eavily upon her colorless cheek, and her small white hands hanging
listlessly by her side, he softly approached her thinking her asleep,
kissed her brow, cheek and lips, whispering as he did so, "Poor girl!
poor Rosa! so young and beautiful."

Rose started, and wiping from her forehead the tear her brother had
left there, she looked anxiously around. Henry was gone, but his words
had awakened in her mind a new and startling idea. Was she going to
die? Did they think so, and was this the reason of Henry's unwonted
tenderness? and sinking back upon her pillows, she wept as only those
weep to whom, in the full flush of youth and beauty, death comes a
dreaded and unwelcome guest.

"I cannot die,--I will not die," said she at last, rousing herself
with sudden energy; "I feel that within me which says I shall not die.
The air of Glenwood will do me good, and grandma's skill in nursing is
wonderful."

Consoled by these reflections, she became more calm, and had her
father now given his consent for her to remain in Boston, she would of
her own accord have gone to Glenwood.

* * * * *

The morning train bound for Albany stood in the depot, waiting the
signal to start; and just before the final "all aboard" was sounded, a
handsome equipage drove slowly up, and from it alighted Mr. Lincoln,
bearing in his arms his daughter, whose head rested wearily upon his
shoulder. Accompanying him were his wife, Jenny, and a gray-haired
man, the family physician. Together they entered the rear car, and
instantly there was a hasty turning of heads, a shaking of curls, and
low whispers, as each noticed and commented upon the unearthly beauty
of Rose, who in her father's arms, lay as if wholly exhausted with the
effort she had made.

The sight of her, so young, so fair, and apparently so low, hushed all
selfish feelings, and a gay bridal party who had taken possession of
the ladies' saloon, immediately came forward, offering it to Mr.
Lincoln, who readily accepted it, and laying Rose upon the long
settee, he made her as comfortable as possible with the numerous
pillows and cushions he had brought with him. As the creaking engine
moved slowly out of Boston, Rose asked that the window might be
raised, and leaning upon her elbow, she looked out upon her native
city, which she was leaving for ever. Some such idea came to her mind;
but quickly repressing it, she turned towards her father, saying with
a smile, "I