so blue and forlorn. I hope you don't fancy I'm going to die? Of
course I'm not."

Here a coughing fit ensued, and after it was over, she continued,
"Isn't George Moreland expected soon?"

Jenny nodded, and Rose proceeded, "I must, and _will_ be well before
he comes, for 'twill never do to yield the field to that Howard girl,
who they say is contriving every way to get him,--coaxing round old
Aunt Martha, and all that. But how ridiculous! George Moreland, with
his fastidious, taste, marry a pauper!" and the sick girl's fading
cheek glowed, and her eyes grew brighter at the absurd idea!

Just then Mr. Lincoln entered the room. He had been consulting with
his wife the propriety of taking Rose to her grandmother's in the
country. She would thus be saved the knowledge of his failure, which
could not much longer be kept a secret; and besides that, they all,
sooner or later, must leave the house in which they were living; and
he judged it best to remove his daughter while she was able to endure
the journey. At first Mrs. Lincoln wept bitterly for if Rose went to
Glenwood, she, too, must of course go and the old brown house, with
its oaken floor and wainscoted ceiling, had now no charms for the gay
woman of fashion who turned with disdain from the humble roof which
had sheltered her childhood.

Lifting her tearful eyes to her husband's face, she said "Oh, I can't
go there. Why not engage rooms at the hotel in Glenwood village.
Mother is so odd and peculiar in her ways of living, that I never can
endure it," and again Mrs. Lincoln buried her face in the folds of her
fine linen cambric, thinking there was never in the world a woman as
wretched as herself.

"Don't, Hatty, don't; it distresses me to see you feel thus. Rooms and
board at the hotel would cost far more than I can afford to pay, and
then, too,--" here he paused, as if to gather courage for what he was
next to say; "and then, too, your mother will care for Rose's _soul_
as well as body."

Mrs. Lincoln looked up quickly, and her husband continued, "Yes,
Hatty, we need not deceive ourselves longer. Rose must die, and you
know as well as I whether our training has been such as will best fit
her for another world."

For a time Mrs. Lincoln was silent, and then in a more subdued tone,
she said, "Do as you like, only you must tell Rose. _I_ never can."

Half an hour after, Mr. Lincoln entered his daughter's room, and
bending affectionately over her pillow, said, "