them," said Rose, sadly, "I wonder if they did it for
fun?"

"Where did you sleep?"

"I had a little room that opened into mamma's."

"And where was all this growling?"

"In papa's room. The door was just opposite to mine, and was open. All
the light was there, you know. Mamma's room was dark, but there was a
candle in the dressing-room."

"Did you see anything?"

"Only the light. It was such a moment. I don't think I saw Mr. Maddox,
but I am quite certain I heard him, for he had an odd little cough."

"Then, Rose, I have little doubt that all this cruelty to you, poor
inoffensive little being, was to hide some plots against your father."

She caught his meaning with the quickness of a mind precocious on some
points though childish on others. "Then if I had been brave and told the
truth, he might never have hurt papa."

"Mind, I do not know, and I never thought of blaming you, the chief
sufferer! No, don't begin to cry again."

"Ah! but I did tell a lie. And I never can confess it to mamma," she
said, recurring to the sad lament so long suppressed.

She found a kind comforter, who led her to the higher sources of
consolation, feeling all the time the deep self-accusation with which
the sight of sweet childish penitence must always inspire a grown
person.

"And now you will not fear to tell your aunt," he added, "only it should
be when you can mention it without such sad crying."

"Telling you is almost as good as telling her," said Rose, "and I
feel safe with you," she added, caressingly drawing his arm round her.
"Please tell Aunt Ermine, for my crying does give her such a headache."

"I will, then, and I think when we all know it, the terrors will leave
you."

"Not when I see Mr. Maddox. Oh, please now you know why, don't make me
walk without you. I do know now that he could not do anything to me, but
I can't help feeling the fright. And, oh! if he was to speak to me!"

"You have not seen him here before?"

"Yes I have, at least I think so. Once when Aunt Ermine sent me to the
post-office, and another time on the esplanade. That is why I can't
bear going out without you or Aunt Ailie. Indeed, it is not disliking
Tibbie."

"I see it is not, my dear, and we will say no more about it till you
have conquered your alarm; but remember, that he is not likely to know
you again. You must be more changed in these three years than he is."

This consideration seemed to reassure Rose greatly, and her next