p and approached the conservatory on
tip-toe, holding his hand out behind him to enjoin silence and secrecy.
The pair could witness the scene through the glass before Evan spoke.

'What suspicions?' he asked.

Rose looked up, as if the harshness of his tone pleased her.

'Do you like red roses best, or white?' was her answer, moving to a
couple of trees in pots.

'Can't make up your mind?' she continued, and plucked both a white and
red rose, saying: 'There! choose your colour by-and-by,' and ask Juley
to sew the one you choose in your button-hole.'

She laid the roses in his hand, and walked away. She must have known
that there was a burden of speech on his tongue. She saw him move to
follow her, but this time she did not linger, and it may be inferred
that she wished to hear no more.

CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR

The only philosophic method of discovering what a young woman means,
and what is in her mind, is that zigzag process of inquiry conducted by
following her actions, for she can tell you nothing, and if she does
not want to know a particular matter, it must be a strong beam from the
central system of facts that shall penetrate her. Clearly there was
a disturbance in the bosom of Rose Jocelyn, and one might fancy that
amiable mirror as being wilfully ruffled to confuse a thing it was asked
by the heavens to reflect: a good fight fought by all young people at
a certain period, and now and then by an old fool or two. The young it
seasons and strengthens; the old it happily kills off; and thus, what
is, is made to work harmoniously with what we would have be.

After quitting Evan, Rose hied to her friend Jenny Graine, and in the
midst of sweet millinery talk, darted the odd question, whether baronets
or knights ever were tradesmen: to which Scottish Jenny, entirely
putting aside the shades of beatified aldermen and the illustrious list
of mayors that have welcomed royalty, replied that it was a thing quite
impossible. Rose then wished to know if tailors were thought worse of
than other tradesmen. Jenny, premising that she was no authority, stated
she imagined she had heard that they were.

'Why?' said Rose, no doubt because she was desirous of seeing justice
dealt to that class. But Jenny's bosom was a smooth reflector of facts
alone.

Rose pondered, and said with compressed eagerness, 'Jenny, do you think
you could ever bring yourself to consent to care at all for anybody eve