already fallen;--for at one time they told him his child was dead. Oh,
never, never can he forget the unutterable anguish of that moment!"

Mr. Dinsmore paused, unable to proceed. Rose had been weeping for some
time. She well knew to whose story she was listening, and her gentle,
loving heart was filled with pity for both him and for his child.

"I have but little more to tell," he resumed; "the child has at length
entirely recovered her health; she is dearer to her father's heart
than words can express, and is very happy in the knowledge that it is
so, and that henceforward he will strive to assist her to walk in the
narrow way, instead of endeavoring to lead her from it.

"Their home has been a very happy one; but it lacks one thing--the
wife and mother's place is vacant; she who filled it once is
gone--never to return!--but there is a sweet, gentle lady who has
won the hearts of both father and daughter, and whom they would fain
persuade to fill the void in their affections and their home.

"Miss Rose, dare I hope that you would venture to trust your happiness
in the hands of a man who has proved himself capable of such cruelty?"

Rose did not speak, and he seemed to read in her silence and her
averted face a rejection of his suit.

"Ah, you cannot love or trust me!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I was
indeed a fool to hope it. Forgive me for troubling you; forgive my
presumption in imagining for a moment that I might be able to win you.
But oh, Rose, could you but guess how I love you--better than aught
else upon earth save my precious child! and even as I love her better