CHAPTER XLIV.
IN WHICH THE HISTORY RETURNS TO APPLE ORCHARD.
Having devoted much space in the foregoing pages to those scenes, descriptive, grotesque, and sentimental, which took place at the Bower of Nature and Winchester, it is proper that we should now go back to the domain of Apple Orchard, and the inhabitants of that realm, so long lost sight of in the contemplation of the graces and attractions of Miss Sallianna, and the various planets which hovered in the wake of that great feminine sun of love and beauty.

Apple Orchard, so long lost sight of, will not longer suffer itself to be neglected; and, fortunately, the return of our heroine, Redbud, affords an opportunity of passing away, for the time, from other scenes, and going thither in her company.
Redbud's sickness did not last long.

The girl had one of those constitutions which, though they seem frail and delicate, yet, like the reed, are able to resist what breaks more robust frames.
The wetting she had gotten, on the evening whose events we have chronicled, had not seriously affected her;--a severe cold, and with it some slight fever, had been the result.

And this fever expended itself completely, in a few days, and left the girl well again, though quite weak and "poorly," as say the Africans.
Redbud, like most persons, was not fond of a sick-room; and after sending word, day after day, to our friend Verty--who never failed to call twice at least, morning and evening--that she was better, and better, the girl, one morning, declared to cousin Lavinia that she was well enough to put on her dressing-wrapper, and go down stairs.
After some demur, accompanied by many grave and solemn shakes of the head, Miss Lavinia assented to this view of the case; and accordingly set about arranging the girl's hair, which had become--thanks to the fact that she could not bear it tied up--one mass of curls of the color of gold; and this task having been performed with solemn but affectionate care, the Squire made his appearance, according to appointment, and taking his "baby," as he called our heroine of sixteen and a half, in his arms, carried her down stairs, and deposited her on a sofa, fronting the open window, looking on the fresh fields and splendid autumn forest.
Redbud lay here gazing with delight upon the landscape, and smiling pleasantly.

The autumn hours were going to the west--the trees had grown more golden than on that fine evening, when, with sad mishaps to Fanny, the gay party had wandered over the hills, though not very far away, and seen the thunder-storm suck in the dazzling glories of the bannered trees.