“I should be willing to give you five hundred dollars to release my musical friend,” said he.  “But as for those daughters of Mr. Royal, it seems to me, upon reflection, to be rather a quixotic undertaking to go in pursuit of them.  You know it’s a difficult job to catch a slave after he gets to the North, if he’s as black as the ace of spades; and all Yankeedom would be up in arms at any attempt to seize such white ladies.  Of course, I could obtain them in no other way than by courting them and gaining their goodwill.”

Mr. Bruteman and Mr. Chandler made some remarks unfit for repetition, but which were greeted with shouts of laughter.  After much dodging and doubling on the financial question, Fitzgerald agreed to pay two thousand five hundred dollars, if all his demands were complied with.  The papers were drawn and signed with all due formality.  He clasped them in his pocket-book, and walked off with an elastic step, saying, “Now for Nassau!”

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.”