o 'the Rose that all admire.' Nobody will admire her
any more, I think."

"Why?" inquired Cora, in surprise.

"Oh, you didn't see her face. She had her mask veil, do you call
it?--down, so you couldn't see. But, oh, my conscience! how she is
changed in these last six weeks! She is not a blooming rose any more.
She is a snubbed, trampled on, crushed, and wilted rose. Her face looks
pale; her hair dull; her eyes weak; her beauty nowhere; her cheerfulness
nowhere else."

Early the next morning, after a hasty breakfast, Mr. Rockharrt entered
his carriage to drive to the works. Young Mrs. Rockharrt, under the plea
of fatigue from her long journey, retired to her own room.

Cora said to her brother:

"Sylvan, I wish you would order the little carriage and take me to the
Banks to see Violet. I should have paid her this attention sooner but
for the pressure of work that has been upon me. I must defer it no
longer, but go this morning."

"All right, Cora!" answered the young man, and he left the room to do
his errand.

Cora went up stairs to get ready for her drive.

In about fifteen minutes the two were seated in the little open landau,
that had been the gift of the late Mrs. Rockharrt to her beloved
granddaughter, and that the latter always used when driving out in the
country around Rockhold during the summer.

They did not have to cross the ferry, as the new house of Fabian
Rockharrt was on the same side of the river as was Rockhold.

The road on this west side was, however, much rougher, though the
scenery was much finer.

They drove on through the woods, which here clothed the foot of the
mountain and grew quite down to the water's edge, meeting over their
heads and casting the road into deep shadow.

They drove on for about three miles, when they came to a point where
another road wound up the mountain side, through heavy woods, and
brought them to a beautiful plateau, on which stood the handsome house
of Fabian Rockharrt, in the midst of its groves, flower gardens,
arbors, orchards and conservatories.

It was a double, two-storied house, of brown stone, with a fine green
background of wooded mountain, and a front view of the river below and
the mountains beyond. There were bay windows at each end and piazzas
along the whole front.

As the carriage drew up before the door, Violet was discovered walking
up and down the front porch. She looked very fragile, but very pretty
with her slight, graceful figure