partially suspended, "Oh!" and in that single monosyllable there was
to the young man watching her a world of meaning. "She's your sister,
this little Rose," and the soft dark eyes flashed brightly upon him.

"What did you suppose her to be?" he asked, and Maggie answered, "I
thought she might be your wife, though I should rather have her for a
sister if I were you."

The young man smiled involuntarily, thinking to himself how his
fashionable city friends would be shocked at such perfect frankness,
which meant no more than their own studied airs.

"You are a good girl, Maggie," he said at last, "and I wouldn't for
the world deceive you; Rose is my step-sister. We are in no way
connected save by marriage, still I love her all the same. We were
brought up together by a lady who is aunt to both, and Rose seems to
me like an own dear sister. She has saved me from almost everything. I
once loved the wine cup; but her kindly words and gentle influence won
me back, so that now I seldom taste it. And once I thought to run away
to sea, but Rose found it out, and, meeting me at the gate, persuaded
me to return. It is wonderful, the influence she has over me, keeping
my wild spirits in check; and if I am ever anything I shall owe it all
to her."

"Does she live in Worcester?" asked Maggie; and Henry answered: "No;
in Leominster, which is not far distant. I go home once a month; and
I fancy I can see Rose now, just as she looks when she comes tripping
down the walk to meet me, her blue eyes shining like stars and her
golden curls blowing over her pale forehead. She is very, very frail;
and sometimes when I look upon her the dread fear steals over me that