“No, missy,” she replied.  “The last I see of her was in her room, with the embroidery-frame before her.  She was looking out of the window, as she did sometimes, as if she was looking nowhere.  She jumped up and hugged and kissed me, and called me ‘Dear Tulee, good Tulee.’  The little darling was always mighty loving.  When I went there again, her needle was sticking in her work, and her thimble was on the frame, but she was gone.  I don’t know when she went away.  Thistle’s come back alone; but he does that sometimes when little missy goes rambling round.”

There was no uneasiness expressed in her tones, but, being more disquieted than she wished to acknowledge, she went forth to search the neighboring wood-paths and the sea-shore.  When she returned, Rosa ran out with the eager inquiry, “Is she anywhere in sight?” In reply to the negative answer, she said:  “I don’t know what to make of it.  Have you ever seen anybody with Floracita since we came here?”

“Nobody but Massa Gerald,” replied Tulee.

“I wonder whether she was discontented here,” said Rosa.  “I don’t see why she should be, for we all loved her dearly; and Gerald was as kind to her as if she had been his own sister.  But she hasn’t seemed like herself lately; and this forenoon she hugged and kissed me ever so many times, and cried.  When I asked her what was the matter, she said she was thinking of the pleasant times when Papasito querido was alive.  Do you think she was unhappy?”

“She told me once she was homesick for Madame Guirlande,” replied Tulee.

“Did she?  Perhaps she was making so many things for Madame because she meant to go there.  But she couldn’t find her way alone, and she knew it would be very dangerous for either of us to go to New Orleans.”

Tulee made no reply.  She seated herself on a wooden bench by the open door, swinging her body back and forth in an agitated way, ever and anon jumping up and looking round in all directions.  The veil of twilight descended upon the earth, and darkness followed.  The two inmates of the cottage felt very miserable and helpless, as they sat there listening to every sound.  For a while nothing was heard but the dash of the waves, and the occasional hooting of an owl.  The moon rose up above the pines, and flooded earth and sea with silvery splendor.

“I want to go to the plantation and call Tom,” said Rosa; “and there is such bright moonshine we might go, but I am afraid Gerald would be displeased.”

Tulee at once volunteered to bring out Thistle, and to walk beside her mistress.

Both started at the sound of footsteps.  They were not light enough for Floracita, but they thought it might be some one bringing news.  It proved to be the master of the house.

“Why, Gerald, how glad I am!  I thought you were in Savannah,” exclaimed Rosa.  “Have you seen anything of Floracita?”

“No.  Isn’t she here?” inquired he, in such a tone of surprise, that Tulee’s suspicions were shaken.