"How queer it seems to be always running away."

"This is the last time, my child," replied Mrs. Delano. "I will keep
my little bird carefully under my wings."

When Flora was in the boat, hand in hand with her new friend, and no
one visible whom she had ever seen before, her excitement began to
subside, but sadness increased. In her terror the poor child had
scarcely thought of anything except the necessity of escaping
somewhere. But when she saw her island home receding from her, she
began to realize the importance of the step she was taking. She fixed
her gaze on that part where the lonely cottage was embowered, and
she had a longing to see even a little whiff of smoke from Tulee's
kitchen. But there was no sign of life save a large turkey-buzzard,
like a black vulture, sailing gracefully over the tree-tops. The
beloved sister, the faithful servant, the brother from whom she had
once hoped so much, the patient animal that had borne her through so
many pleasant paths, the flowery woods, and the resounding sea, had
all vanished from her as suddenly as did her father and the bright
home of her childhood.

The scenes through which they were passing were beautiful as Paradise,
and all nature seemed alive and jubilant. The white blossoms of
wild-plum-trees twinkled among dark evergreens, a vegetable imitation
of starlight. Wide-spreading oaks and superb magnolias were lighted up
with sudden flashes of color, as scarlet grosbeaks flitted from tree
to tree. Sparrows were chirping, doves cooing, and mocking-birds
whistling, now running up the scale, then down the scale, with an
infinity of variations between. The outbursts of the birds were the
same as in seasons that were gone, but the listener was changed.