As it was, she often listened to the dash of the sea with the melancholy feeling that rest might be found beneath its waves.

But she was still very young, the sky was bright, the earth was lovely, and she had a friend who had promised to provide a safe asylum for her somewhere.

She tried to regain her strength, that she might leave the island, with all its sad reminders of departed happiness.
Thinking of this, she rose one day and wandered into the little parlor to take a sort of farewell look.

There was the piano, so long unopened, with a whole epic of love and sorrow in its remembered tones; the pretty little table her mother had painted; the basket she had received from her father after his death; Floracita's paintings and mosses; and innumerable little tokens of Gerald's love.

Walking round slowly and feebly in presence of all those memories, how alone she felt, with none to speak to but Tulee and the old colored mammy,--she, who had been so tenderly cared for by her parents, so idolized by him to whom she gave her heart! She was still gazing pensively on these souvenirs of the past, when her attention was arrested by Tom's voice, saying: "Dar's a picaninny at de Grat Hus.
How's turrer picaninny ?" The thought rushed upon her, "Ah, that baby had a father to welcome it and fondle it; but _my_ poor babe--" A sensation of faintness came over her; and, holding on by the chairs and tables, she staggered back to the bed she had left.
Before the babe was a fortnight old, Tom announced that he was to accompany his master to New Orleans, whither he had been summoned by business.