Rosa repeated the story of her disappearance, and concluded by saying, “She told Tulee she was homesick to go to Madame.”

“She surely wouldn’t dare to do that,” he replied.

“Massa Gerald,” said Tulee, and she watched him closely while she spoke, “there’s something I didn’t tell Missy Rosy, ’cause I was feared it would worry her.  I found this little glove of Missy Flory’s, with a bunch of sea-weed, down on the beach; and there was marks of her feet all round.”

Rosa uttered a cry.  “O heavens!” she exclaimed, “I saw an alligator a few days ago.”

An expression of horror passed over his face.  “I’ve cautioned her not to fish so much for shells and sea-mosses,” said he; “but she was always so self-willed.”

“Don’t say anything against the little darling!” implored Rosa.  “Perhaps we shall never see her again.”

He spoke a few soothing words, and then took his hat, saying, “I am going to the sea-shore.”

“Take good care of yourself, dear Gerald!” cried Rosa.

“No danger ’bout that,” muttered Tulee, as she walked out of hearing.  “There’s things with handsomer mouths than alligators that may be more dangerous.  Poor little bird!  I wonder where he has put her.”

His feelings as he roamed on the beach were not to be envied.  His mind was divided between the thoughts that she had committed suicide, or had been drowned accidentally.  That she had escaped from his persecutions by flight he could not believe; for he knew she was entirely unused to taking care of herself, and felt sure she had no one to help her.  He returned to say that the tide had washed away the footprints, and that he found no vestige of the lost one.

At dawn he started for the plantation, whence, after fruitless inquiries, he rode to the Welby estate.  Mrs. Delano had requested the household servants not to mention having seen a small young lady there, and they had nothing to communicate.

He resolved to start for New Orleans as soon as possible.  After a fortnight’s absence he returned, bringing grieved and sympathizing letters from the Signor and Madame; and on the minds of all, except Tulee, the conviction settled that Floracita was drowned.  Hope lingered long in her mind.  “Wherever the little pet may be, she’ll surely contrive to let us know,” thought she.  “She ain’t like the poor slaves when they’re carried off.  She can write.”  Her mistress talked with her every day about the lost darling; but of course such suspicions were not to be mentioned to her.  Gerald, who disliked everything mournful, avoided the subject entirely; and Rosabella, looking upon him only with the eyes of love, considered it a sign of deep feeling, and respected it accordingly.