e old nurse; "but it's no doing of
mine. But look here, Miss Rose, you be persuaded by me, go straight
to your mamma and ask her yourself. Maybe there is a doubt whether you
oughtn't to know, but there is no doubt that I mustn't tell you."

Rose hesitated, but presently her curiosity overpowered her reluctance.

Mrs. Fane-Smith, or, as she had been called in her maiden days, Isabel
Raeburn, was remarkably like her daughter in so far as features
and coloring were concerned, but she was exceedingly unlike her in
character, for whereas Rose was vain and self-confident, and had a
decided will of her own, her mother was diffident and exaggeratedly
humble. She was a kind-hearted and a good woman, but she was in danger
of harassing herself with the question, "What will people say?"

She looked up apprehensively as her daughter came into the room.
Rose felt sure she had been crying, her curiosity was still further
stimulated, and with all the persuasiveness at her command, she urged
her mother to tell her the meaning of the mysterious paragraph.

"I am sorry you have asked me," said Mrs. Fane-Smith, "but, perhaps,
since you are no longer a child, you had better know. It is a sad story,
however, Rose, and I should not have chosen to tell it to you today of
all days."

"But I want to hear, mamma," said Rose, decidedly. "Please begin. Who is
this Mr. Raeburn?"

"He is my brother," said Mrs. Fane-Smith, with a little quiver in her
voice.

"Your brother! My uncle!" cried Rose, in amazement.

"Luke was the oldest of us," said Mrs. Fane-Smith, "then came Jean, and
I was the youngest of all, at least of those who lived."

"Then I have an aunt, too, an Aunt Jean?" exclaimed Rose.

"You shall hear the whole story," replied her mother. She thought for a
minute, then in rather a low voice she began: "Luke and Jean were always
the clever ones, Luke especially; your grandfather had set his heart on
his being a clergyman, and you can fancy the grief it was to us when he
threw up the whole idea, and declared that he could never take Orders.
He was only nineteen when he renounced religion altogether; he and my
father had a great dispute, and the end of it was that Luke was sent
away from home, and I never have seen him since. He has become a very
notorious infidel lecturer. Jean was very much unsettled by his change
of views, and I believe her real reason for marrying old Mr. Craigie
was that she had made him promise to let her see L