Madame’s anxiety was much diminished after she began to receive letters in Rosa’s own handwriting; but, knowing the laws of Georgia, and no longer doubtful concerning Fitzgerald’s real character, she placed small reliance upon his promise of manumission.  “This is another of his deceptions,” said she to the Signor.  “I have been thinking a good deal about the state of things, and I am convinced there will be no security in this country for that poor girl.  You have been saying for some time that you wanted to see your beautiful Italy again, and I have the same feeling about my beautiful France.  We each of us have a little money laid up; and if we draw upon the fund Mr. King has deposited, we can take Rosabella to Europe and bring her out as a singer.”

“She would have a great career, no doubt,” replied the Signor; “and I was going to suggest such a plan to you.  But you would have to change your name again on my account, Madame; for I was obliged to leave Italy because I was discovered to be one of the Carbonari; and though fifteen years have elapsed, it is possible the watchful authorities have not forgotten my name.”

“That’s a trifling obstacle,” resumed Madame.  “You had better give notice to your pupils at once that you intend to leave as soon as present engagements are fulfilled.  I will use up my stock for fancy articles, and sell off as fast as possible, that we may be ready to start for Europe as soon as Rosa has sufficient strength.”

This resolution was immediately acted upon; but the fates were unpropitious to Madame’s anticipated visit to the lonely island.  A few days before her intended departure, the Signor was taken seriously ill, and remained so for two or three weeks.  He fretted and fumed, more on her account than his own, but she, as usual, went through the trial bravely.  She tried to compensate Rosa for the disappointment, as far as she could, by writing frequent letters, cheerful in tone, though prudently cautious concerning details.  Fearing that Mr. Fitzgerald’s suspicions might be excited by an apparent cessation of correspondence, she continued to write occasionally under cover to him, in a style adapted to his views, in case he should take a fancy to open the letters.  The Signor laughed, and said, “Your talent for diplomacy is not likely to rust for want of use, Madame.”  Even Rosa, sad at heart as she was, could not help smiling sometimes at the totally different tone of the letters which she received under different covers.

She had become so accustomed to passive endurance, that no murmur escaped her when she found that her only white friend could not come to her, as she had expected.  Granny Nan boasted of having nursed many grand white ladies, and her skill in the vocation proved equal to her pretensions.  Only her faithful Tulee and the kind old colored mammy were with her when, hovering between life and death, she heard the cry that announced the advent of a human soul.