The necessary arrangements were soon made; and when Flora was transformed into Miss Welby, she smiled very faintly as she remarked, “How queer it seems to be always running away.”

“This is the last time, my child,” replied Mrs. Delano.  “I will keep my little bird carefully under my wings.”

When Flora was in the boat, hand in hand with her new friend, and no one visible whom she had ever seen before, her excitement began to subside, but sadness increased.  In her terror the poor child had scarcely thought of anything except the necessity of escaping somewhere.  But when she saw her island home receding from her, she began to realize the importance of the step she was taking.  She fixed her gaze on that part where the lonely cottage was embowered, and she had a longing to see even a little whiff of smoke from Tulee’s kitchen.  But there was no sign of life save a large turkey-buzzard, like a black vulture, sailing gracefully over the tree-tops.  The beloved sister, the faithful servant, the brother from whom she had once hoped so much, the patient animal that had borne her through so many pleasant paths, the flowery woods, and the resounding sea, had all vanished from her as suddenly as did her father and the bright home of her childhood.

The scenes through which they were passing were beautiful as Paradise, and all nature seemed alive and jubilant.  The white blossoms of wild-plum-trees twinkled among dark evergreens, a vegetable imitation of starlight.  Wide-spreading oaks and superb magnolias were lighted up with sudden flashes of color, as scarlet grosbeaks flitted from tree to tree.  Sparrows were chirping, doves cooing, and mocking-birds whistling, now running up the scale, then down the scale, with an infinity of variations between.  The outbursts of the birds were the same as in seasons that were gone, but the listener was changed.  Rarely before had her quick musical ear failed to notice how they would repeat the same note with greater or less emphasis, then flat it, then sharp it, varying their performances with all manner of unexpected changes.  But now she was merely vaguely conscious of familiar sounds, which brought before her that last merry day in her father’s house, when Rosabella laughed so much to hear her puzzle the birds with her musical vagaries.  Memory held up her magic mirror, in which she saw pictured processions of the vanished years.  Thus the lonely child, with her loving, lingering looks upon the past, was floated toward an unknown future with the new friend a kind Providence had sent her.

CHAPTER IX.

Rosa was surprised at the long absence of her sister; and when the sun showed only a narrow golden edge above the horizon, she began to feel anxious.  She went to the kitchen and said, “Tulee, have you seen anything of Floracita lately?  She went away while I was sleeping.”