She had peeped about everywhere, and was becoming very much dispirited with the desolation, when Mr. Jacobs came back with a mule and a small cart, which he said was the best conveyance he could procure.  The jolting over hillocks, and the occasional grunts of the mule, made it an amusing ride; but it was a fruitless one.  The plantation negroes were sowing cotton, but all Mr. Fitzgerald’s household servants were leased out in Savannah during his absence in Europe.  The white villa at Magnolia Lawn peeped out from its green surroundings; but the jalousies were closed, and the tracks on the carriage-road were obliterated by rains.

Hiring a negro to go with them to take back the cart, they made the best of their way to the boat, which was waiting for them.  Fatigued and disconsolate with their fruitless search, they felt little inclined to talk as they glided over the bright waters.  The negro boatmen frequently broke in upon the silence with some simple, wild melody, which they sang in perfect unison, dipping their oars in rhythm.  When Savannah came in sight, they urged the boat faster, and, improvising words to suit the occasion, they sang in brisker strains:—­

  “Row, darkies, row! 
      See de sun down dar am creepin’;
  Row, darkies, row! 
      Hab white ladies in yer keepin’;
  Row, darkies, row!”

With the business they had on hand, Mrs. Delano preferred not to seek her friends in the city, and they took lodgings at a hotel.  Early the next morning, Mr. Jacobs was sent out to ascertain the whereabouts of Mr. Fitzgerald’s servants; and Mrs. Delano proposed that, during his absence, they should drive to The Pines, which she described as an extremely pleasant ride.  Flora assented, with the indifference of a preoccupied mind.  But scarcely had the horses stepped on the thick carpet of pine foliage with which the ground was strewn, when she eagerly exclaimed, “Tom!  Tom!” A black man, mounted on the seat of a carriage that was passing them, reined in his horses and stopped.

“Keep quiet, my dear,” whispered Mrs. Delano to her companion, “till I can ascertain who is in the carriage.”

“Are you Mr. Fitzgerald’s Tom?” she inquired.

“Yes, Missis,” replied the negro, touching his hat.

She beckoned him to come and open her carriage-door, and, speaking in a low voice, she said:  “I want to ask you about a Spanish lady who used to live in a cottage, not far from Mr. Fitzgerald’s plantation.  She had a black servant named Tulee, who used to call her Missy Rosy.  We went to the cottage yesterday, and found it shut up.  Can you tell us where they have gone?”

Tom looked at them very inquisitively, and answered, “Dunno, Missis.”

“We are Missy Rosy’s friends, and have come to bring her some good news.  If you can tell us anything about her, I will give you this gold piece.”

Tom half stretched forth his hand to take the coin, then drew it back, and repeated, “Dunno, Missis.”