heart-sick. At last he met a sensible man, who made him see there was
no short cut in that profession. He must be content to play the up-hill
game; must settle in some good neighborhood; marry, if possible, since
husbands and fathers of families prefer married physicians; and so be
poor at thirty, comfortable at forty, and rich at fifty--perhaps.

Then Christopher came down to his lodgings at Gravesend, and was very
unhappy; and after some days of misery, he wrote a letter to Rosa in a
moment of impatience, despondency, and passion.

Rosa Lusignan got worse and worse. The slight but frequent hemorrhage
was a drain upon her system, and weakened her visibly. She began to lose
her rich complexion, and sometimes looked almost sallow; and a slight
circle showed itself under her eyes. These symptoms were unfavorable;
nevertheless, Dr. Snell and Mr. Wyman accepted them cheerfully, as fresh
indications that nothing was affected but the liver; they multiplied and
varied their prescriptions; the malady ignored those prescriptions, and
went steadily on. Mr. Lusignan was terrified but helpless. Rosa resigned
and reticent.

But it was not in human nature that a girl of this age could always and
at all hours be mistress of herself. One evening in particular she stood
before the glass in the drawing-room, and looked at herself a long
time with horror. "Is that Rosa Lusignan?" said she, aloud; "it is her
ghost."

A deep groan startled her. She turned; it was her father. She thought he
was fast asleep; and so indeed he had been; but he was just awaking, and
heard his daughter utter her real mind. It was a thunder-clap. "Oh, my
child! what shall I do?" he cried.