"Wait one moment," she said, as she saw him about to commence the
letter. "Wait till I bring you a sheet of gilt-edged paper. It is more
worthy of Rose, I fancy, than the plainer kind."

"Thank you," he said. "I will tell her of your suggestion."

The paper was brought, and then seating herself by the window Maggie
looked out abstractedly, seeing nothing, and hearing nothing save the
sound of the pen, as it wrote down words of love for the gentle Rose.
It was not a long epistle; and, as at the close of the Douglas letter
he had asked a message from Theo, so now at the close of this he
claimed one from Maggie.

"What shall I say for you?" he asked; and, coming toward him, Margaret
answered, "Tell her I love her, though I don't know who she is!"

"Why have you never asked me?" queried Henry; and, coloring crimson,
Maggie answered hesitatingly, "I thought you would tell me if you
wished me to know."

"Read this letter, and that will explain who she is," the young man
continued, offering the letter to Maggie, who, grasping it eagerly,
sat down opposite, so that every motion of her face was clearly
visible to him.

The letter was as follows:

"MY DARLING LITTLE ROSE: Do you fancy some direful calamity has
befallen me, because I have not written to you for more than a week?
Away with your fears, then, for nothing worse has come upon me than a