an old man; la! I dare say I shall last his time;' and so, why should I
poison your latter days with worrying about ME?"

Mr. Lusignan stared at her, and his lip quivered; but he thought the
trait hardly consistent with her superficial character. He could not
help saying, half sadly, half bitterly, "Well, but of course you have
told Dr. Staines."

Rosa opened her beautiful eyes, like two suns. "Of course I have done
nothing of the sort. He has enough to trouble him, without that. Poor
fellow! there he is, worrying and striving to make his fortune, and gain
your esteem--'they go together,' you know; you told him so." (Young cats
will scratch when least expected.) "And for me to go and tell him I am
in danger! Why, he would go wild. He would think of nothing but me and
my health. He would never make his fortune: and so then, even when I
am gone, he will never get a wife, because he has only got genius and
goodness and three thousand pounds. No, papa, I have not told poor
Christopher. I may tease those I love. I have been teasing YOU this ever
so long; but frighten them, and make them miserable? No!"

And here, thinking of the anguish that was perhaps in store for those
she loved, she wanted to cry; it almost choked her not to. But she
fought it bravely down: she reserved her tears for lighter occasions and
less noble sentiments.

Her father held out his arms to her. She ran her footstool to him, and
sat nestling to his heart.

"Please forgive me my misconduct. I have not been a dutiful daughter
ever since you--but now I will. Kiss me, my own papa! There! Now we are