Captain Fairfax arose and left the room immediately, and instead of sending a servant, went himself to bring Mrs. Georgia. For so great was his desire to gratify promptly every wish of his loved one’s heart, that he seldom trusted the execution of them to any but himself, lest they should fail or be delayed. It was well in this instance, at least, that he went in person. A servant could not have effected the purpose. The conscience-stricken Georgia would not have ventured to come. Even when unannounced, by reason of his haste, Captain Fairfax entered her parlor, the beauty turned deadly pale, under the fear of detected guilt. But when she saw his calm, kind manner, and heard him entreat, as a favor, that she would put on her bonnet immediately, and return with him to see his wife, who was extremely ill at Fairview, the sorceress was reassured, and with her usual bewitching grace consented to accompany him.
When they arrived at Fairview House, and were shown up into the sick chamber, the patient smiled and held out her hands. Georgia hastened towards her, and seized both hands, covering them with kisses, and making a show of great emotion. Zuleime raised her feeble voice, and begged all to go out of the room, and leave her alone with her visitor. And when every one had departed, and the door was closed, she said—
“Sit down, please, here by my bedside.” Mrs. Georgia took the nurse’s arm-chair. “Dear Georgia,” she said, gently taking both her hands, and looking kindly in her face, “I sent for you, because I thought you must be so unhappy about what you have unintentionally caused me to suffer. And I wished to tell you not to remember it in bitterness any more. Oh! I grieve so much at the memory of what I have made my dear father suffer, that I can feel for others who are tortured by remorse, and I would not, for the whole world, that any one should mourn for what they have caused me to suffer. So, dear Georgia, I acquit you of all blame, from the bottom of my heart, indeed I do—and I pray that God may make you happier than I have ever been. And I will never, never drop a hint, by which any one shall suspect—I mean I will never let fall a word to any one, that shall injure you, Georgia. I would not die and bequeath you so bitter a legacy as an enemy. Though I knew you would not come and ask me, I sent for you to assure you of this, Georgia, and to reconcile myself with you, that we might be friends before I die. And now, God bless you! Kiss me, and say good-bye, for my fever is rising.”
And she held up her lips. Georgia was weeping.
“Zuleime, my dear child, why don’t you call me mamma, as heretofore?” she asked.
“Oh, don’t you know long ago you told me not to do it. But I will, if you wish it, now. Kiss me, dear mamma. There, now, go and be at peace.”
Georgia hurried from the room. They never met again.
Zuleime revived slightly when the spring opened. She had heard that her sister Carolyn had nearly recovered her health, and was just about to set out on her voyage home. And two secret wishes the poor girl indulged: once more to visit White Cliffs, and to live to see her only sister again. But she kept them to herself in the fear of giving Frank trouble, for she knew that he would try to move Heaven and earth to please her, and deeply grieve if he should fail. She concealed her wants, but they were discovered by him who watched day and night to anticipate her wishes. And Captain Fairfax called upon the family physician, and consulted him upon the possibility of taking Zuleime to White Cliffs, as soon as the spring weather should be permanently settled. The physician’s opinion was highly favorable to his wishes. He said that she might be removed by easy stages to the country, and that if proper care and attention were bestowed, the journey and the change of air would probably be found very beneficial to her health. Captain Fairfax hastened home to cheer his wife with the news. And she was gladdened by it. She caught both his hands and kissed them, and held them to her face, and looking at him fondly, said—
“Dear Frank! dearest Frank! you try to perform miracles for me!”
The same night, Captain Fairfax wrote to Mrs. Clifton, of Hardbargain, to go over to White Cliffs and prepare to receive the invalid. And from that day Zuleime revived, and by the first of June was so much better, as to be able to be placed in the comfortable family carriage, in which, sometimes reclining upon downy cushions, sometimes resting upon the bosom of her husband, and supported by his arms, she traveled by easy stages to White Cliffs. They reached the end of their journey upon the afternoon of the third day. Mrs. Clifton and Catherine were there to receive them. Zuleime was lifted out of the carriage, very much exhausted. Yet, as she was gently carried through the yard, her eyes roved gladly over all the dear familiar scene—over mountains, fields and forests, clothed now in the luxuriant foliage of June—and all her countenance lighted up with joy, and she exclaimed many times in tones of profound gratitude—