ad struck its roots down to the very core of his;
twisting them with every fibre of his being. A love which, though it
had sprung up so early, and come to maturity so fast, might yet be the
curse of his whole existence. Save that no love conceived virtuously,
for a good woman, be it ever so hopeless, can be rightly considered as
a curse.

"Shall we go away?" I whispered--"a long walk--to the other side of the
Flat? She will have left Rose Cottage soon."

"When?"

"Before noon, I heard. Come, David."

He suffered me to put my arm in his, and draw him away for a step or
two, then turned.

"I can't, Phineas, I can't! I MUST look at her again--only for one
minute--one little minute."

But he stayed--we were standing where she could not see us--till she
had slowly left the grave. We heard the click of the churchyard gate:
where she went afterward we could not discern.

John moved away. I asked him if we should take our walk now? But he
did not seem to hear me; so I let him follow his own way--perhaps it
might be for good--who could tell?

He descended from the Flat, and came quickly round the corner of the
cottage. Miss March stood there, trying to find one fresh rose among
the fast-withering clusters about what had been our parlour window and
now was hers.

She saw us, acknowledged us, but hurriedly, and not without some
momentary signs of agitation.

"The roses are all gone," she said rather sadly.

"Perhaps, higher up, I can reach one--shall I try?"

I marvelled to see that John's manner as he addressed her was just like
his manner always with her.

"Thank you--that will do. I wanted to take some away with me--I am
leaving Rose Cottage to-day, Mr. Halifax."

"So I have heard."

He did not say "sorry to hear." I wondered did the omission strike
her? But no--she evidently regarded us both as mere acquaintances,
inevitably, perhaps even tenderly, bound up with this time; and as
such, claiming a more than ordinary place in her regard and
remembrance. No man with common sense or common feeling could for a
moment dare to misinterpret the emotion she showed.

Re-entering the house, she asked us if we would come in with her; she
had a few things to say to us. And then she again referred gratefully
to our "kindness."

We all went once more--for the last time--into the little parlour.
"Yes--I am going away," said she, mournfully.

"We hope all good will go with you--always and everywhere."