drag on a
miserable existence! And if he does," questioned the maiden, "and
if he does, _what is that to me_?" She did not, for a moment or two,
trust herself to frame an answer, though the tell-tale blood, first
mounting to and then receding from her cheek, replied; but then she
began to calculate how long she had known Edward, and thought how very
natural it was she should feel interested, deeply interested, in him.
He had no sister; why should she not be to him a sister? Ah, Rose,
Rose! that sisterly reasoning is of all others the most perilous.

Time passed on. The bride wrote a letter, which, in its tone and
character, sounded pretty much like a long trumpet-note of exultation.
Mrs. Myles declared it to be a dear letter, a charming letter, a most
lady-like letter, and yet evidently she was not satisfied therewith.
She read scraps of it to all the neighbours, and vaunted Mrs. Ivers,
the Honourable Mrs. Ivers, up to the skies. Like all persons whose
dignity and station are not the result of inheritance, in the next
epistle she was even more anxious to impress her humble relatives
with an idea of her consequence. Mingled with a few epithets of love,
were a great many eulogiums on her new station. She was too honest to
regret, even in seeming, the rural delights of the country, (for Helen
could not stoop to deceit,) but she gave a list of titled visitors,
and said she would write more at length, were it not that every spare
moment was spent in qualifying herself to fill her station so as to do
credit to her husband." This old Mrs. Myles could not understand; she
considered Helen fit to be a queen, and said so.

CHAPTER V.

For more than two months, Rose and Edward did not meet again; for more
than four after that, he never entered the cottage which had contained
what he held most dear on earth; but one evening he called with Mr.
Stokes. The good rector might have had his own reasons for bringing
the young man to the cottage; but if he had he kept them to himself,
the best way of rendering them effective.

After that, Edward often came, sometimes with a book from the rectory,
sometimes with a newspaper for Mrs. Myles, sometimes to know if he
could do anything for the old lady in the next town, where he was
going, sometimes for one thing, sometimes for another, but always with
some excuse, which Rose was happy to accept as the true one; satisfied
that she could see him, hear him, know that he was there.

It