CHAPTER VII.

The scenery of the South was in the full glory of June, when Mr.
Fitzgerald, Rosa, and Floracita were floating up the Savannah River in
a boat manned by negroes, who ever and anon waked the stillness of
the woods with snatches of wild melody. They landed on a sequestered
island which ocean and river held in their arms. Leaving the servants
to take care of the luggage, they strolled along over a carpet of
wild-flowers, through winding bridle-paths, where glances of bright
water here and there gleamed through the dark pines that were singing
their sleepy chorus, with its lulling sound of the sea, and filling
the air with their aromatic breath. Before long, they saw a
gay-colored turban moving among the green foliage, and the sisters at
once exclaimed, "Tulipa!"

"Dear Gerald, you didn't tell us Tulee was here," said Rosa.

"I wanted to give you a pleasant surprise," he replied.

She thanked him with a glance more expressive than words. Tulipa,
meanwhile, was waving a white towel with joyful energy, and when
she came up to them, she half smothered them with hugs and kisses,
exclaiming: "The Lord bless ye, Missy Rosy! The Lord bless ye, Missy
Flory! It does Tulee's eyes good to see ye agin." She eagerly led the
way through flowering thickets to a small lawn, in the midst of which
was a pretty white cottage.

It was evident at a glance that she, as well as the master of the
establishment, had done her utmost to make the interior of the
dwelling resemble their old home as much as possible. Rosa's piano was
there, and on it were a number of books which their father had
given them. As Floracita pointed to the ottomans their mother had
embroidered, and the boxes and table she had painted, she said: "Our
good friend the Signor sent those. He promised to buy them."

"He could not buy them, poor man!" answered Fitzgerald, "for he was in
prison at the time of the auction; but he did not forget to enjoin it
upon me to buy them."

A pleasant hour was spent in joyful surprises over pretty novelties
and cherished souvenirs. Rosa was full of quiet happiness, and
Floracita expressed her satisfaction in lively little gambols. The sun
was going down when they refreshed themselves with the repast Tulipa
had provided. Unwilling to invite the merciless mosquitoes, they sat,
while the gloaming settled into darkness, playing and singing melodies
associated with other times.

Floracita felt sorry when the hour of se