would be so dark. There, that's a good girl. Now, come and sit by me
on the bed, and tell me of Riverside. Put your feet in the chair, or
take this pillow. There, turn a little more to the light. I like to
see people when they talk to me."

Rosamond complied with each request, and then, never dreaming of the
close examination to which her face was subjected, she began to speak
of her beautiful home--describing it minutely, and dwelling somewhat
at length upon the virtues of its owner.

"You like him very much," the lady said, nodding a little affirmative
nod to her own question.

"Yes--very--very much," was Rosamond's answer; and the lady continued,
"And _Mrs_. Browning? Do you like her, too?"

"There is no Mrs. Browning," returned Rosamond, adding, quickly, as
she saw in her auditor's face an expression she did not understand,
"but it is perfectly proper I should live there, for Mrs. Peters, the
housekeeper, has charge of me."

"Perhaps, then, he will marry you," and the jeweled hands worked
nervously under the crimson shawl.

"Oh, no, he won't," said Rosamond, decidedly, "he's too old for me.
Why, his hair is turning gray!"

"That's nothing," answered the lady, a little sharply. "Everybody's
hair turns early now-a-days. Sarah found three or four silver threads
in mine, this morning. Miss Leyton, don't you love Mr. Browning?"