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EVERY

SATURDAY.

VOL. II.]

A ROSE IN JUNE.

CHAPTER X. (continued.)

A FOURNAL OF CHOICE READING.

MR. INCLEDON had a friend who was one of the Lords of the Admiralty, and upon whom he could rely to do him a service; a friend whom he had never asked for anything for what was official patronage to the master of Whitton? He wrote him a long 3 and charming letter, which, if I had L only room for it, or if it had any

thing to do except incidentally with this simple history, would give the reader a much better idea of his abilities and social charms than anything I can show of him here. In it he discussed the politics of the moment, and that gossip on a dignified scale about ministers and high officials of state which is half history — and he touched upon social events in a light and amusing strain, with that half cynicism which lends salt to correspondence; and he told his friend half gayly, half seriously, that he was beginning to feel somewhat solitary, and that dreams of marrying, and marrying soon, were stealing into his mind. And he told him about his Perugino ("which I fondly hope may turn out an early Raphael"), and which it would delight him to show to a brother connoisseur. "And, by the bye," he added, after all this, "I have a favor to ask of you which I have kept to the end like a lady's postscript. I want you to extend the ægis of your protection over a fine young fellow in whom I am considerably interested. His name is Wodehouse, and his ship is at present on that detestable slave trade service which costs us so much money and does so little good. He has been a long time in the service, and I hear he is a very promising young officer. I should consider it a personal favor if you could do something for, him; and (N. B.) it would be a still greater service to combine promotion with as distant a post as possible. His friends are anxious to keep him out of the way for private reasons the old 'entanglement' business, which, of course, you will understand; but I think it hard that this sentence of banishment should be conjoined with such a disagreeable service. Give him a gunboat, and send him to look for the Northwest passage, or any

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SATURDAY, JULY 11, 1874.

where else where my lords have a whim for exploring! I never thought to have paid such a tribute to your official dignity as to come, hat in hand, for a place, like the rest of the world. But no man, I suppose, can always resist the common impulse of his kind; and I am happy in the persuasion that to you I will not plead in vain."

I am afraid that nothing could have been more disingenuous than this letter. How it worked, the reader will see hereafter; but, in the mean time, I cannot defend Mr. Incledon. He acted, I suppose, on the old and time-honored sentiment that any stratagem is allowable in love and war, and consoled himself for the possible wrong he might be doing (only a possible wrong, for Wodehouse might be kept for years cruising after slaves, for anything Mr. Incledon knew) by the unquestionable benefit which would accompany it. “A young fellow living by his wits will find a gunboat of infinitely more service to him than a foolish love affair which never could come to anything," his rival said to himself.

And after having sealed this letter, he returned into his fairy land. He left the library where he had written it, and went to the drawing-room which he rarely used, but which was warm with a cheerful fire and lighted with soft wax-lights for his pleasure, should he care to enter. He paused at the door a moment and looked at it. The wonders of upholstery in this carefully decorated room, every scrap of furniture in which had cost its master thought, would afford pages of description to a fashionable American novelist, or to the refined chronicles of the Family Herald; but I am not sufficiently learned to do them justice. The master of the house, however, looked at the vacant room with its sottly burning lights, its luxurious vacant seats, its closely drawn curtains, the books on the tables which no one ever opened, the pictures on the walls which nobody looked at (except on great occasions), with a curious sense at once of desolation and of happiness. How dismal its silence was not a sound but the dropping of the ashes from the fire, or the movement of the burning fuel; and he himself a ghost looking into a room which might be inhabited by ghosts for aught he knew. Here and there, indeed, a group of chairs had been arranged by accident

[No. 2.

so as to look as if they were occupied, as if one unseen being might be whispering to another, noiselessly smiling, and pointing at the solitary. But no, there was a pleasanter interpretation to be given to that soft, luxurious, brightly-colored vacancy; it was all prepared and waiting, ready for the gentle mistress who was to come.

How different from the low-roofed drawing-room at the White House, with the fireplace at one end of the long room, with the damp of ages in the old walls, with draughts from every door and window, and an indifferent lamp giving all the light they could afford! Mr. Incledon, perhaps, thought of that, too, with an increased sense of the advantages he had to offer; but lightly, not knowing all the discomforts of it. He went back to his library after this inspection, and the lights burned on, and the ghosts, if there were any, had the full enjoyment of it till the servants came to extinguish the candles and shut up everything for the night.

CHAPTER XI.

WHEN Rose went up the creaking stairs to bed on that memorable night her feelings were like those of some one who has just been overtaken by one of the great catastrophes of nature - a hurricane or an earthquake — and who, though escaped for the moment, hears the tempest gathering in another quarter, and knows that this is but the first flash of its wrath, and that he has yet worse encounters to meet. I am of Mr. Incledon's opinion

or rather of the doubt fast ripening into an opinion in his mind-that he had made a mistake, and that possibly if he had taken Rose herself "with the tear in her eye," and pressed his suit at first hand, he might have succeeded better; but such might-be's are always doubtful to affirm and impossible to prove. She sat down for a while in her cold room, where the draughts were playing freely about, and where there was no fire-to think; but as for thinking, that was an impossible operation in face of the continued gleams of fancy which kept showing now one scene to her, now another; and of the ringing echo of her mother's words which kept sounding through and through the stillness. Self-indulgence- choosing her own pleasure rather than her duty - what

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she liked instead of what was right. Rose was far too much confused to make out how it was that these reproaches seemed to her instinct so inappropriate to the question; she only felt it vaguely, and cried a little at the thought of the selfishness attributed to her; for there is no opprobrious word that cuts so deeply into the breast of a romantic, innocent girl. She sat there pensive till all her faculties got absorbed in the dreary sense of cold and bodily discomfort, and then she rose and said her prayers, and untwisted her pretty hair and brushed it out, and went to bed, feeling as if she would have to watch through the long, dark hours till morning, though the darkness and loneliness frightened her, and she dreaded the night. But Rose was asleep in half an hour, though the tears were not dry on her eyelashes, and I think slept all the long night through which she had been afraid of, and woke only when the first gray of daylight revealed the cold room and a cold morning dimly to her sight slept longer than usual, for emotion tires the young. Poor child she was a little ashamed of herself when she found how soundly she had slept.

"Mamma would not let me call you," said Agatha, coming into her

room;

"she said you were very tired last night; but do please come down now, and make haste. There is such a basket of flowers in the hall from Whitton, the man says. Where's Whitton? Isn't it Mr. Incledon's place? But make haste, Rose, for breakfast, now that you are awake."

So she had no time to think just then, but had to hurry down-stairs, where her mother met her with something of a wistful look, and kissed her with a kind of murmured half apology. "I am afraid I frightened you last night, Rose."

"Oh, no, not frightened," the girl said, taking refuge among the children, before whom certainly nothing could be said; and then Agatha and Patty surged into the conversation, and all gravity or deeper meaning was taken out of it. Indeed, her mother was so cheerful that Rose would almost have hoped she was to hear no more of it, had it not been for the cluster of flowers which stood on the table and the heaped-up bunches of beautiful purple grapes which filled a pretty Tuscan basket, and gave dignity to the bread and butter. This was a sign of the times which was very alarming; and I do not know why it was, unless it might be by reason of her youth, that those delicate and lovely things — fit never moved offerings for a loverher to any thought of what it was she was rejecting, or tempted her to consider Mr. Incledon's proposal as one which involved many delightful things along with himself, who was not delightful. This idea, oddly enough, did not find any place in her mind, though she was as much subject to the

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-

EVERY SATURDAY.

influence of all that was lovely and pleasant as any girl could be.

The morning passed, however, without any further words on the subject, and her heart had begun to beat easier and her excitement to calm down, when Mrs. Damerel suddenly came to her, after the children's lessons, which was now their mother's chief occupa tion. She came upon her quite unexpectedly, when Rose, moved by their noiseless presence in the room, and unable to keep her hands off them any longer, had just commenced, in the course of her other arrangements (for Rose had to be a kind of upper housemaid, and make the drawingroom habitable after the rough and ready operation which Mary Jane tidying "), to make a pretty called " group upon a table in the window of Mr. Incledon's flowers. Certainly they made the place look prettier and pleasanter than it had ever done yet, especially as one stray gleam of sunshine, somewhat pale, like the girl herself, but cheery, had come glancing in to light up the long, low, quaint room and caress the flowers.

"Ah, Rose, they have done you good already!" said her mother; "You look more like yourself than I have seen you for many a day."

Rose took her hands from the last flower-pot as if it had burned her, and stood aside, so angry and vexed to have been found at this occupation that she could have cried.

66

My dear," said her mother, going up to her, "I do not know that Mr. Incledon will be here to-day; but if he comes I must give him an answer. Have you reflected upon what I said to you? I need not tell you again how important it is, or how much you have in your power."

66

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Rose clasped her hands together in had self-support, one hand held fast by grasp the other, as if that slender been something worth clinging to. 'Oh! what can I say?" she cried; "I told you; what more can I say? "You told me! Then, Rose, everything that I said to you last night goes for nothing, though you must know the truth of it far, far better than my words Is it to be the same thing again? could say. over again always over Self, first and last, the only consideration? Everything to please yourself; nothing from higher motives? God forgive you, Rose!"

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Oh, hush, hush! it is unkind it is cruel. I would die for you if that would do any good!" cried Rose.

"These are easy words to say; for dying would do no good, neither would it be asked of you," said Mrs. Damerel impatiently. "Rose, I do not ask this in ordinary obedience, as a mother may command a child. It is not a child but a woman who must make such a decision; but it is my duty to show you your duty, and what is best for yourself as well as for others. No one

neither man nor woman, nor girl nor boy - can escape from

duty to others; and when it is neg-
lected some one must pay the penalty.
But you -
you are happier than most.
You can, if you please, save your fam-
ily."

"We are not starving, mamma,” said Rose, with trembling lips; “we have enough to live upon and } could work I would do anything

"What would your work do, Rose? If you could teach- and I don't think you could teach - you might earn enough for your own dress; that would be all. Oh, my dear! listen to The little work a girl can do is her own inclination of her fancy; nothing. She can make a sacrifice of but as for work, she has nothing in her power."

me.

were no

"Then I wish there girls!" cried Rose, as many a poor do nothing but be a burden - if there girl has done before her, "if we can is no work for us, no use for us, but mamma! do you know what you are only to sell ourselves. Oh, mamma, asking me to do?"

"I know a great deal better than you do, or you would not repeat to me this vulgar nonsense about selling yourself. Am I likely to bid you sell yourself? Listen to me, Rose. I want you to be happy, and so you would be

nay, never shake your head at me you would be happy with a man who loves you, for you would learn to love him. Die for us! I have heard such words from the lips of people who would not give up a morsel of their not a whim, not an hour's own will comfort " "But I - I am not like that," cried Rose, stung to the heart. "I would give up anything everything - for the children and you!"

66

---

Except what you are asked to give up; except the only thing which you Rose, I can give up. Again I They are have known such cases. not rare in this world."

say,

If you

Oh, mamma, mamma!" "You think I am cruel. knew my life, you would not think so; you would understand my fear and horror of this amiable self-seeking which looks so natural. Rose," said her mother, dropping into a softer "I have something more to say to you perhaps something that will weigh more with you than anything!

tone,

can say.

Your father had set his heart on this. He spoke to me of it on his death-bed. God knows! perhaps he saw then what a dreary strug gle I should have, and how little had been done to help us through. One of the last things he said to me was, 'Incledon will look after the boys.""

"Papa said that?" said Rose, putting out her hands to find a prop. Her limbs seemed to refuse to support her. She was unprepared for this new, unseen antagonist. How did he know?

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C

J 1874.]

She made no direct answer to Rose's question, but took her hand within both of hers, and continued, with her "You would like eyes full of tears: to please him, Rose-it was almost to please him, the last thing he said and to rescue me from anxieties I can see no end to, and to secure Bertie's future. Oh, Rose! you should thank so much for God that you can do those you love. And you would be You are young, and happy, too. love begets love. He would do everything that man could do to please you. He is a good man, with a kind heart; you would get to love him; and, my dear, you would be happy, too."

44

Mamma," said Rose, with her head bent down and some silent tears dropping upon Mr. Incledon's flowers -a flush of color came over her downcast face, and then it grew pale again; her voice sounded so low that her mother stooped towards her to hear "mamma, I should what she said like to tell you something.'

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Mrs. Damerel made an involuntary movement -a slight instinctive withdrawal from the confidence. Did she guess what it was? If she did so, she made up her mind at the same "What is it, time not to know it. dear?" she said tenderly but quickly. "Oh, Rose! do you think I don't understand your objections? But, my darling, surely you may trust your mother, who loves you more than all the world. You will not reject it— I know you will not reject it. There is no blessing that is not promised to those that deny themselves. He will not hurry nor press you, dear. Rose, say I may give him a kind an?" swer when he comes

Rose's head was swimming, her heart throbbing in her ears and her throat. The girl was not equal to such a strain. To have the living and the dead both uniting against her both appealing to her in the several names of love and duty against love-was more than she could bear. She had sunk into the nearest chair, unable to stand, and she no longer felt strong enough, even had her mother been willing to hear it, to make that confession which had been on her lips. At what seemed to be the extremity of human endurance, she suddenly saw one last resource in which she might still find safety, and grasped at it, May scarcely aware what she did. I see Mr. Incledon myself if he comes?" she gasped, almost under her breath.

66

"Surely, dear," said her mother, surprised; "of course that would be if you are able for it, if the best will think well before you decide, if you will promise to do nothing has tily. Oh, Rose! do not break my heart!"

you

"It is more likely to be my own that I will break," said the girl, with a shadow of a smile passing over her face. "Mamma, will you be very kind, and say no more? I will think,

A ROSE IN JUNE.

think -- everything that you say; but
let me speak to him myself, if he
comes.'

Mrs. Damerel looked at her very
earnestly, half suspicious, half sympa
thetic. She went up to her softly and
put her arms round her, and pressed
the girl's drooping head against her
breast. "God bless you, my dar-
ling!" she said, with her eyes full of
tears; and kissing her hastily, went
out of the room, leaving Rose alone
with her thoughts.

If I were to tell you what these thoughts were, and all the confusion of them, I should require a year to do it.

Rose had no heart to stand up
and fight for herself all alone against
the world. Her young frame ached
and trembled from head to foot with
the unwonted strain. If there had
to
any one-
been indeed any one
struggle for; but how was she to stand
alone and battle for herself? Every-
thing combined against her; every
motive, every influence. She sat in
a vague trance of pain, and, instead
of thinking over what had been said,
only saw visions gleaming before her
of the love which was a vision, nothing
more, and which she was called upon
A vision that was all;
to resign.
a dream, perhaps, without any foun-
dation. It seemed to disperse like a
mist, as the world melted and dissolved
around her the world which she had
world, a
known showing a new
dreamy, undiscovered country, forming
out of darker vapors before her. She
sat thus till the stir of the children in
the house warned her that they had
come in from their daily walk to the
early dinner. She listened to their
voices and noisy steps and laughter
with the strangest feeling that she
was herself a dreamer, having nothing
in common with the fresh, real life
where all the voices rang out so
clearly, where people said what they
meant with spontaneous outcries and
laughter, and there was no concealed
meaning and nothing beneath the
sunny surface; but when she heard
her mother's softer tones speaking to
the children, Rose got up hurriedly,
and fled to the shelter of her room.
If anything more were said to her she
thought she must die. Happily Mrs.
Damerel did not know that it was her
voice, and not the noise of the chil-
She sent
dren, which was too much for poor
Rose's overstrained nerves.
word by Agatha that Rose must lie
down for an hour and try to rest; and
that quiet was the best thing for her
headache, which, of course, was the
plea the girl put forth to excuse her
flight and seclusion. Agatha, for her
part, was very sorry and distressed
that Rose should miss her dinner, and
wanted much to bring something up-
stairs for her, which was at once the
kindest and most practical suggestion
of all.

The bustle of dinner was all over
and the house still again in the dreary
afternoon quiet, when Agatha, once

more, with many precautions, stole
into the room. "Are you awake?"
she said: "I hope your head is better.
Mr. Incledon is in the drawing-room,
and mamma says, please, if you are
better will you go down, for she is
busy; and you are to thank him for
the grapes and for the flowers. What
does Mr. Incledon want, coming so
often? He was here only yesterday,
Oh !
and sat for hours with mamma.
what a ghost you look, Rose! Shall I
bring you some tea?

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"It is too early for tea. mind; my head is better."

Never

not

"But you have had no dinner," said practical Agatha; "it is much wonder that you are pale."

Rose did not know what she answered, or if she said anything. Her head seemed to swim more than ever. Not only was it all true about Mr. Incledon, but she was going to talk to him, to decide her own fate finally one way or other. What a good thing that the drawing-room was so dark in the afternoon that he could not remark how woe-begone she looked, how miserable and pale!

He got up when she came in, and went up to her eagerly, putting out his hands. I suppose he took her appearance as a proof that his suit was progressing well; and, indeed, he had come to-day with the determination to see Rose, whatever might happen. He took her hand into both of his, and for one second pressed it fervently and close. kind of you to see "It is very How can I thank you for giving me this opportunity?" he said.

me.

"Oh, no! not kind; I wished it," said Rose, breathlessly, withdrawing her hand as hastily as he had taken it; and then, fearing her strength, she sat down in the nearest chair, and said, falteringly, "Mr. Incledon, I wanted very much to speak to you myself."

"And I, too," he said- her simplicity and eagerness thus opened the way for him and saved him all embarrassment-"I, too, was most anxious to see you. I did not venture to speak of this yesterday, when I met you. I was afraid to frighten and distress you; but I have wished ever since that I had dared'

"Oh, please do not speak so!" she cried. In his presence Rose felt so young and childish, it seemed impossible to believe in the extraordinary change of positions which his words implied.

Miss Da"But I must speak so. my demerel, I am very conscious of ficiences by your side of the disparity between us in point of age and in many other ways; you, so fresh and untouched by the world, I affected by it, as every man is more or less; but if you will commit your happiness to my hands, don't think, because I am not so young as you, that I will watch over it less carefully — that it will be less precious in my eyes."

"Ah! I was not thinking of my hap

piness," said Rose; "I suppose I have no more right to be happy than other people - but oh! if you would let me speak to you! Mr. Incledon, oh! why should you want me? There are so many girls better, more like you, that would be glad. Oh! what is there in me? I am silly; I am not well educated, though you may think so. I am not clever enough to be a companion you would care for. I think it is because you don't know."

Mr. Incledon was so much taken by surprise that he could do nothing but laugh faintly at this strange address. "I was not thinking either of education or of wisdom, but of you, only you," he said.

"But you know so little about me; you think I must be nice because of papa; but papa himself was never satisfied with me. I have not read very much. I know very little. I am not good for anywhere but home. Mr. Incledon, I am sure you are deceived in me. This is what I wanted to say. Mamma does not see it in the same light; but I feel sure that you are deceived, and take me for something very different from what I am," said Rose, totally unconscious that every word she said made Mr. Incledon more and more sure that he had done the very thing he ought to have done, and that he was not deceived.

"Indeed, you mistake me altogether," he said. "It is not merely because you are a piece of excellence it is because I love you, Rose."

"Love me! Do you love me?" she said, looking at him with wondering eyes; then drooping with a deep blush under his gaze "but I do not love you."

"I did not expect it; it would have been too much to expect; but if you will let me love you, and show you how I love you, dear!" said Mr. Incledon, going up to her softly, with something of the tenderness of a father to a child, subduing the eagerness of a lover. "I don't want to frighten you; I will not hurry nor tease; but some time you might learn to love

me.

"That is what mamma says," said Rose, with a heavy sigh.

Now this was scarcely flattering to a lover. Mr. Incledon felt for the moment as if he had received a downright and tolerably heavy blow; but he was in earnest, and prepared to meet with a rebuff or two. "She says truly," he answered, with much gravity. "Rose, may I call you Rose? - do not think I will persecute or pain you; only do not reject me hastily. What I have to say for myself is very simple. I love you that is all; and I will put up with all a man may for the chance of winning you, when you know me better, to love me in return."

These were almost the same words as those Mrs. Damerel had employed; but how differently they sounded they had not touched Rose's heart at

all before; but they did now with a curious mixture of agitation and terror, and almost pleasure. She was sorry for him, more than she could have thought possible, and somehow felt more confidence in him, and freedom to tell him what was in her heart.

"Do not answer me now, unless you please," said Mr. Incledon. "If you will give me the right to think your family mine, I know I can be of use to them. The boys would become my charge, and there is much that has been lost which I could make up had I the right to speak to your mother as a son. It is absurd, I know," he said, with a half-smile; "I am about as old as she is; but all these are secondary questions. The main thing is you. Dear Rose, dear child, you don't know what love is "

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"I will not give it up so long as there is any hope," he said; "tell me what is it? I will do nothing to break your heart."

She made a pause. It was hard to say it, and yet, perhaps, easier to him than it would be to face her mother and make this tremendous confession. She twisted her poor little fingers together in her bewilderment and misery, and fixed her eyes upon them as if their interlacing were the chief matter in hand. "Mr. Incledon," she said, very low, "there was some one else-oh, how can I say it! some one whom I cared for - whom I can't help thinking about."

"Tell me," said Mr. Incledon, bravely quenching in his own mind a not very amiable sentiment; for it seemed to him that if he could but secure her confidence all would be well. He took her hand with caressing gentleness, and spoke low, almost as low as she did. "Tell me, my darling; I am your friend, confide in me. Who was it? May I know?"

"I cannot tell you who it was," said Rose, with her eyes still cast down, "because he has never said anything to me; perhaps he does not care for me; but this has happened: without his ever asking me, or perhaps wishing it, I cared for him. I know a girl should not do so, and that is why I cannot cannot! But," said Rose, raising her head with more confidence, though still reluctant to meet his eye, 66 now that you know this you will not think of me any more, Mr. Incledon. I am so sorry if it makes you at all unhappy; but I am of very little consequence; you cannot be long unhappy about me.

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"Pardon me if I see it in quite a different light," he said. "My mind is not at all changed. This is but a fancy. Surely a man who loves you,

and says so, should be of more weight than one of whose feelings you know nothing."

"I know about my own," said Rose, with a little sigh; "and oh, don't think, as mamma does, that I am selfish! It is not selfishness; it is because I know, if you saw into my heart, you would not ask me. Oh, Mr. Incledon, I would die for them all if I could. but how could I say one thing to you, and mean another? How could I let you be deceived?

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"Then, Rose, answer me truly; is your consideration solely for me?"

She gave him an alarmed, appealing look, but did not reply.

"I am willing to run the risk," he said, with a smile, "if all your fear is for me; and I think you might run the risk too. The other is an imagination; I am real, very real,” he added, very constant, very patient. So long as you do not refuse me absolutely, I will wait and hope."

66

Poor Rose, all her little art was exhausted. She dared not, with her mother's words ringing in her ears, and with all the consequences so clearly before her, refuse him abso lutely, as he said. She had appealed to him to withdraw, and he would not withdraw. She looked at him as if he were the embodiment of fate, against which no man can strive.

"Mr. Incledon," she said, gravely and calmly, "you would not marry any one who did not love you?"

"I will marry you, Rose, if you will have me, whether you love me or not," he said; "I will wait for the love, and hope."

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Oh, be kind!" she said, driven to her wits' end. "You are free, you can do what you please, and there are so many girls in the world besides me. And I cannot do what I please," she added, low, with a piteous tone, looking at him. Perhaps he did not hear these last words. He turned from her with I know not what mingling of love, and impatience, and wounded pride, and walked up and down the darkling room, making an effort to command himself. She thought she had moved him at last, and sat with her hands clasped together, expecting the words which would be deliverance to her. It was almost dark, and the firelight glimmered through the low room, and the dim green glimmer of the twilight crossed its ruddy rays, not more unlike than the two who thus stood so strangely opposed to each other. At last, Mr. Incledon returned to where Rose sat in the shadow, touched by neither one illumination nor the other, and eagerly watching him as he approached her through the uncertain gleams of the ruddy light.

"There is but one girl in the world for me," he said, somewhat hoarsely. "I do not pretend to judge for any do one but myself. So long as you not reject me, I will hope." And thus their interview closed.

1874.]

When he had got over the disagreeable shock of encountering that indifference on the part of the woman he loved, which is the greatest blow that can be given to a man's vanity, Mr. Incledon was not at all down-hearted about the result. He went away, with half a dozen words to Mrs. Damerel, begging her not to press his suit, but "All to let the matter take its course. will go well if we are patient," he said, with a composure which, perhaps, surprised her; for women are apt to prefer the hot-headed in such points, and Mrs. Damerel did not reflect that, having waited so long, it was not so hard on the middle-aged lover to wait a little longer. But his forbearance at least was of immediate service to Rose, who was allowed time to recover herself after her agitation, and had no more exciting appeals addressed to her for some time.

But Mr. Incledon

went and came, and a soft, continued pressure, which no one could take decided objection to, began to make itself felt.

CHAPTER XII.

MR. INCLEDON went and came; he did not accept his dismissal, nor, indeed, had any dismissal been given to him. A young lover, like Edward Wodehouse, would have been at once crushed and rendered furious by the appeal Rose had made so ineffectually to the man of experience who knew what he was about. If she was worth having at all, she was worth a struggle; and Mr. Incledon, in the calm exercise of his judgment, knew that at the last every good thing falls into the arms of the patient man who can wait. He had not much difficulty in penetrating the thin veil which she had cast over the " whom she cared, but who, so far she knew, did not care for her. It could be but one person, and the elder lover was glad beyond description to know that his rival had not spoken, and that he was absent and likely to be absent. Edward Wodehouse being thus disposed of, there was no one else in Mr. Incledon's way, and with but a little patience he was sure to win.

some one

" for

as

As for Rose, though she felt that her appeal had been unsuccessful, she too was less discouraged by it than she could have herself supposed. In the first place she was let alone; nothing was pressed upon her; she had time allowed her to calm down, and with time everything was possible. Some miracle would happen to save her; or, if not a miracle, some ordinary turn of affairs would take the shape · of miracle, and answer the same purWhat is Providence, but a dipose. vine agency to get us out of trouble, to restore happiness, to make things pleasant for us? so, at least, one thinks when one is young; older, we begin to learn that Providence has to watch over many whose interests

A ROSE IN JUNE.

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are counter to ours as well as our
own; but at twenty, all that is good
and necessary in life seems always on
our side, and there seems no choice
for Heaven but to clear the obstacles
out of our way.
Something would
happen, and all would be well again;
and Rose's benevolent fancy even ex-
Mr.
poor
ercised itself in finding for "
Incledon some one who would suit
him better than herself. He was very
treat-
wary, very judicious, in his
ment of her. He ignored that one
scene when he had refused to give up
his proposal, and conducted himself
for some time as if he had sincerely
given up his proposal, and was no
more than the family friend, the most
kind and sympathizing of neighbors.
It was only by the slowest degrees
that Rose found out that he had given
up nothing, that his constant visits
and constant attentions were so many
meshes of the net in which her simple
For the
feet were being caught.
first few weeks, as I have said, she
was relieved altogether from every-
thing that looked like persecution.
She heard of him, indeed, constantly,
but only in the pleasantest way.
Fresh flowers came, filling the dim old
rooms with brightness; and the gar-
dener from Whitton came to look af-
ter the flowers and to suggest to Mrs.
Damerel improvements in her garden,
and how to turn the hall, which was
large in proportion to the house, into
a kind of conservatory; and baskets of
fruit came, over which the children
rejoiced; and Mr. Incledon himself
came, and talked to Mrs. Damerel and
played with them, and left books, new
books, all fragrant from the printing,
of which he sometimes asked Rose's
opinion casually. None of all these
good things was for her, and yet she
had the unexpressed consciousness,
which was pleasant enough so long as
no one else remarked it and no rec-
was asked, that but for
her those pleasant additions to the
family life would not have been.
Then it was extraordinary how often
he would meet them by accident in
their walks, and how much trouble he
would take to adapt his conversation
to theirs, finding out (but this Rose
did not discover till long after) all her
tastes and likings. I suppose that
having once made up his mind to take
so much trouble, the pursuit of this
shy creature, who would only betray
what was in her by intervals, who
shut herself up like the mimosa when-
ever she was too boldly touched, but
who opened secretly with an almost
childlike confidence when her fears
were lulled to rest, became more in-
teresting to Mr. Incledon than a more
ordinary wooing, with a straightfor-
ward"
yes" to his proposal at the
end of it, would have been. His van-
ity got many wounds both by Rose's
unconsciousness and by her shrinking;
but he pursued his plan undaunted
by either, having made up his mind
to win her and no other; and the

ompense

more difficult the fight was, the more
triumphant would be the success.

on

This state of affairs lasted for some time; indeed, everything went quietly, with no apparent break in the gentle monotony of existence at the White House, until the spring was so far advanced as to have pranked itself out in a flood of primroses. It was something quite insignificant and incidental which for the first time reawakened Rose's fears. He had looked at her with something in his eyes which betrayed him, or some word had dropped from his lips which startled her; but the first direct attack upon her peace of mind did not come from Mr. Încledon. It came from two ladies on the Green, one of whom at least was very innocent of evil meaning.

Rose was walking with her mother on an April afternoon, when they met Mrs. Wodehouse and Mrs. Musgrove, likewise taking their afternoon walk.

Mrs. Musgrove was a

struck

very quiet person, who interfered with
nobody, yet who was mixed up with
everything that went on on the Green,
by right of being the most sympathetic
of souls, ready to hear everybody's
grievance and to help in everybody's
trouble. Mrs. Wodehouse
straight across the Green to meet Mrs.
Damerel and Rose, when she saw
encounter
them, so that it was by no ordinary
chance meeting, but an
one side at least,
sought eagerly on
that this revelation came. Mrs. Wode-
house was full of her subject, vibrat-
bonnet, which thrilled and nodded
ing with it to the very flowers on her
against the blue distance like a sol-
forward
dier's plumes. She
with a forced exuberance of cordiality,
holding out both her hands.

came

"Now tell me!" she said; "may we congratulate you? Is the embargo removed? Quantities of people have assured me that we need not hold our tongues any longer, but that it is all settled at last.

"What is all settled at last?" asked Mrs. Damerel, with sudden stiff"I beg your parness and coldness. don, but I really don't in the least know what you mean."

"I said I was afraid you were too hasty," said Mrs. Musgrove.

66

Well, if one can't believe the evito believe?" cried Mrs. Wodehouse. dence of one's senses, what is one "It is not kind, Rose, to keep all your old friends so long in suspense. Of course, it is very easy to see on which side the hesitation is; and I am sure I am very sorry if I have been premature."

a

"You are more than premature," little said Mrs. Damerel with laugh, and an uneasy color on her cheek, "for you are speaking a language neither Rose nor I understand. I hope, Mrs. Wodehouse, you have good news from your son."

"Oh, very good news indeed!" said the mother, whose indignation on her son's behalf made the rose on her

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