wide and handsome,
and had a look of riches. Her heart beat so fast, she felt suffocated;
her limbs shook, her eyes had a red blood-like mist floating before them;
but she thanked God each step she climbed; a moment, and she would
look upon the only face she loved.

"He will be glad; oh, I am sure he will be glad!" she said to herself, as
a fear that had never before come near her touched her for a moment--if
he should not care?

But even then, what did it matter? Since he was ill she should be there
to watch him night and day; and when he was well again, if he should wish
her to go away--one could always die.

"But he will be glad--oh, I know he will be glad!" she said to the
rosebuds that she carried to him. "And if God will only let me save his
life, what else do I want more?"

His name was written on a door before her. The handle of a bell hung
down; she pulled it timidly. The door unclosed; she saw no one, and went
through. There were low lights burning. There were heavy scents that were
strange to her. There was a fantastic gloom from old armor, and old
weapons, and old pictures in the dull rich chambers. The sound of her
wooden shoes was lost in the softness and thickness of the carpets.

It was not the home of a poor man. A great terror froze her heart,--if
she were not wanted here?

She went quickly through three rooms, seeing no one and at the end of
the third there were folding doors.

"It is I--Bebee." she said softly, as she pushed them gently apart; and
she held out the two moss-rosebuds.

Then the words died on her lips, and a great horror froze her, still and
silent, there.

She saw the dusky room as in a dream. She saw him stretched on the bed,
leaning on his elbow, laughing, and playing cards upon the lace coverlet.
She saw women with loose shining hair and bare limbs, and rubies and
diamonds glimmering red and white. She saw men lying about upon the
couch, throwing dice and drinking and laughing one with another.

Beyond all she saw against the pillows of his bed a beautiful brown
wicked looking thing like some velvet snake, who leaned over him as
he threw down the painted cards upon the lace, and who had cast about his
throat her curved bare arm with the great coils of dead gold all
a-glitter on it.

And above it all there were odors of wines and flowers, clouds of smoke,
shouts of laughter, music of shrill gay voices.

She stood like a frozen creature and saw--the rosebuds' in her ha