Prince Abel begins the little speech to the mother, but his voice and face turn toward the daughter as it ends. Flowers are in glasses upon the mantle, and in vases of many-colored materials and of various shapes upon tables about the room. The last new books, in English editions often, and a few solid classics, are in sight. Pictures also. "What a lovely Madonna!" says Miss Plumer, as she raises her eyes to a beautiful and costly engraving that hangs opposite upon the wall; which, indeed, was intended to be observed by her. "Yes. It is the Sistine, you know," says the Prince, as he sees that the waiter pours wine for Mrs. Plumer. The Prince forgets to mention that it is not the engraving which usually hangs there. Usually it is a pretty-colored French print representing "Lucille," a young woman who has apparently very recently issued from the bath. Indeed there is a very choice collection of French prints which the young men sometimes study over their cigars, but which are this evening in the port-folio, which is not in sight. The waiters move very softly. The wants of the guests are revealed to them by being supplied. Quiet, elegance, luxury prevail. "Really, Mr. Newt"--it is Mrs. Plumer, of New Orleans, who speaks--"you have created Paris in Grand Street!" "Ah! madame, it is you who graciously bring Versailles and the Tuileries with you!" He speaks to the mother; he looks, as he ends, again at the daughter. The daughter for the first time is in the sanctuary of a bachelor--of a young man about town. It is a character which always interests her--which half fascinates her. Miss Plumer, of New Orleans, has read more French literature of the lighter sort--novels and romances, for instance--than most of the young women whom Abel Newt meets in society. Her eyes are very shrewd, and she is looking every where to see if she shall not light upon some token of bachelor habits--something that shall reveal the man who occupies those pretty rooms. Every where her bright eyes fall softly, but every where upon quiet, elegance, and luxury. There is the Madonna; but there are also the last winner at the Newmarket, the profile of Mr. Bulwer, and a French landscape. The books are good, but not too good. There is an air of candor and honesty in the room, united with the luxury and elegance, that greatly pleased Miss Grace Plumer. The apartment leads naturally up to that handsome, graceful, dark-haired, dark-eyed gentleman whose eye is following hers, while she does not know it; but whose mind has preceded hers in the very journey around the room it has now taken.