But, blinded as she was, she gradually became aware that he did not seem exactly like the same man who first won her girlish love.  Her efforts to please him were not always successful.  He was sometimes moody and fretful.  He swore at the slightest annoyance, and often flew into paroxysms of anger with Tom and Tulee.  He was more and more absent from the cottage, and made few professions of regret for such frequent separations.  Some weeks after Flora’s disappearance, he announced his intention to travel in the North during the summer months.  Rosabella looked up in his face with a pleading expression, but pride prevented her from asking whether she might accompany him.  She waited in hopes he would propose it; but as he did not even think of it, he failed to interpret the look of disappointment in her expressive eyes, as she turned from him with a sigh.

“Tom will come with the carriage once a week,” said he; “and either he or Joe will be here every night.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

But the tone was so sad that he took her hand with the tenderness of former times, and said, “You are sorry to part with me, Bella Rosa?”

“How can I be otherwise than sorry,” she asked, “when I am all alone in the world without you?  Dear Gerald, are we always to live thus?  Will you never acknowledge me as your wife?”

“How can I do it,” rejoined he, “without putting myself in the power of those cursed creditors?  It is no fault of mine that your mother was a slave.”

“We should be secure from them in Europe,” she replied.  “Why couldn’t we live abroad?”

“Do you suppose my rich uncle would leave me a cent if he found out I had married the daughter of a quadroon?” rejoined he.  “I have met with losses lately, and I can’t afford to offend my uncle.  I am sorry, dear, that you are dissatisfied with the home I have provided for you.”

“I am not dissatisfied with my home,” said she.  “I have no desire to mix with the world, but it is necessary for you, and these separations are dreadful.”

His answer was:  “I will write often, dearest, and I will send you quantities of new music.  I shall always be looking forward to the delight of hearing it when I return.  You must take good care of your health, for my sake.  You must go ambling about with Thistle every day.”

The suggestion brought up associations that overcame her at once.  “O how Floracita loved Thistle!” she exclaimed.  “And it really seems as if the poor beast misses her.  I am afraid we neglected her too much, Gerald.  We were so taken up with our own happiness, that we didn’t think of her so much as we ought to have done.”

“I am sure I tried to gratify all her wishes,” responded he.  “I have nothing to reproach myself with, and certainly you were always a devoted sister.  This is a morbid state of feeling, and you must try to drive it off.  You said a little while ago that you wanted to see how the plantation was looking, and what flowers had come out in the garden.  Shall I take you there in the barouche to-morrow?”