Mr. Fitzgerald had ordered his horse to be saddled at an earlier hour than Tom had ever known him to ride, except on a hunting excursion, and in his own mind he concluded that his master would be asleep at the hour he had indicated.  Before he stretched himself on the floor for the night, he expressed this opinion to the cook by saying, “Yer know, Dinah, white folks is allers mighty wide awake de night afore dey gits up.”

To his surprise, however, Mr. Fitzgerald made his appearance at the stable just as he was beginning to comb the horse.  “You lazy black rascal,” he exclaimed, “didn’t I order you to have the horse ready by this time?”

“Yes, Massa,” replied Tom, sheering out of the way of the upraised whip; “but it peers like Massa’s watch be leetle bit faster dan de sun dis ere mornin’.”

The horse was speedily ready, and Tom looked after his master as he leaped into the saddle and dashed off in the direction of the lonely cottage.  There was a grin on his face as he muttered, “Reckon Missis don’t know whar yer gwine.”  He walked toward the house, whistling, “Nelly was a lady.”

“Dat ar war gwine roun’ an’ roun’ de hus las’ night, jes like a sperit.  ’Twar dat ar Spanish lady,” said Dinah.

“She sings splendiferous,” rejoined Tom, “an’ Massa liked it more dan de berry bes bottle ob wine.”  He ended by humming, “Now all dem happy days am ober.”

“Better not let Massa hear yer sing dat ar,” said Dinah.  “He make yer sing nudder song.”

“She’s mighty gran’ lady, an’ a bery perlite missis, an’ Ise sorry fur her,” replied Tom.

Mr. Fitzgerald had no sense of refreshment in his morning ride.  He urged his horse along impatiently, with brow contracted and lips firmly compressed.  He was rehearsing in his mind the severe reprimand he intended to bestow upon Rosa.  He expected to be met with tears and reproaches, to which he would show himself hard till she made contrite apologies for her most unexpected and provoking proceedings.  It was his purpose to pardon her at last, for he was far enough from wishing to lose her; and she had always been so gentle and submissive, that he entertained no doubt the scene would end with a loving willingness to accept his explanations, and believe in his renewed professions.  “She loves me to distraction, and she is entirely in my power,” thought he.  “It will be strange indeed if I cannot mould her as I will.”

Arrived at the cottage, he found Tulee washing on a bench outside the kitchen.  “Good morning, Tulee,” said he.  “Is your mistress up yet?”

“Missy Rosy ha’n’t been asleep,” she answered in a very cold tone, without looking up from her work.

He entered the house, and softly opened the door of Rosa’s sleeping apartment.  She was walking slowly, with arms crossed, looking downward, as if plunged in thought.  Her extreme pallor disarmed him, and there was no hardness in his tone when he said, “Rosabella!”