Returning from rehearsal, a few hours before, she had seen a young Italian girl, who strongly reminded her of her lost sister.
"Ah!" thought she, "if Flora and I had gone out into the world together, to make our own way, as Madame first intended, how much sorrow and suffering I might have been spared!" She went to the piano, where the familiar music of Norma lay open before her, and from the depths of her saddened soul gushed forth, "_Ah, bello a me Ritorno_." The last tone passed sighingly away, and as her hands lingered on the keys, she murmured, "Will my heart pass into it there, before that crowd of strange faces, as it does here ?" "To be sure it will, dear," responded Madame, who had entered softly and stood listening to the last strains.
"Ah, if all would hear with _your_ partial ears!" replied Rosabella, with a glimmering smile.

"But they will not.

And I may be so frightened that I shall lose my voice." "What have you to be afraid of, darling ?" rejoined Madame.

"It was more trying to sing at private parties of accomplished musicians, as you did in Paris; and especially at the palace, where there was such an _elite_ company.

Yet you know that Queen Amelia was so much pleased with your performance of airs from this same opera, that she sent you the beautiful enamelled wreath you are to wear to-night." "What I was singing when you came in wept itself out of the fulness of my heart," responded Rosabella.