"I am to consider the report true, then," persisted Florence. A momentary struggle took place in Fanny’s mind. Love and resentment strove for the mastery. The latter conquered, and the voice was calm and decided which replied, "I assure you, Miss Woodburn, that Dr. Lacey bears no relation to me except that of a common acquaintance." "Indeed," said Florence. "I am sorry, for I was anticipating much pleasure in describing Dr. Lacey’s intended lady to the New Orleans girls." Fanny did not answer, and as Stanton just then approached, and asked her to go to the music room, she took his arm readily, glad to escape so painful a conversation. "She is a strange girl," thought Florence, "and yet I know I should love her. I wonder what makes her so sad. Can it be that she really loved that Mr. Wilmot? At any rate, I am sorry for her and hope she will marry Mr. Stanton, who seems much pleased with her." This was the impression left on Florence’s mind, which was productive of much mischief. At a late hour the company dispersed. Fanny returned home, weary and sick at heart. Her conversation with Florence had awakened painful reminiscences of the past, and the gray daylight was beginning to streak the eastern horizon ere her heavy lids closed in slumber. In a few days Florence Woodburn departed for New Orleans, where her mother’s brother resided. We will take passage with her and pay a visit to Dr. Lacey in his Southern home. CHAPTER XI A GLANCE AT NEW ORLEANS SOCIETY The house which Dr. Lacey occupied was situated on one of the pleasantest streets of New Orleans. It was a large, airy structure, which had formerly been owned by a wealthy French gentleman who had spared neither money nor pains to adorn it with every elegance which could minister to the luxurious habits common to a Southern clime. When it passed into the hands of Dr. Lacey’s father, he gratified his Northern taste, and fitted it up with every possible convenience, molding its somewhat ancient aspect into a more modern style. When Dr. Lacey reached the age of twenty-one, his father made him the owner of the house, he himself removing to another part of the city. At the time of which we are speaking, nothing could exceed the beauty of the house and grounds. The yard which surrounded the building was large, and laid out with all the taste of a perfect connoisseur. In its center was a fountain, whose limpid waters fell into a large marble basin, while the spray which constantly arose from the falling stream seemed to render the heat of that sultry climate less oppressive. Scattered throughout the yard were the numerous trees and flowering shrubs which grow in profusion at the "sunny South." Here the beautiful magnolia shook its white blossoms in the evening breeze, and there the dark green foliage of the orange trees formed an effectual screen from the mid-day sun.