inion. It must be made for her. But one might fancy you should be
beyond that by this time, Graeme," added Rose, a little scornfully.

Graeme said nothing, and Rose went on.

"It would not be easy here, I know; but out there you and I could make a
home to ourselves, and be independent, and have a life of our own. It
is so different there. You ought to go there just to understand how
very different it is."

"If we needed a home," said Graeme. "But, Rose, I am content with the
home we have."

"Content!" repeated Rose, impatiently. "There is surely something
better than content to be looked for in the world;" and she rose and
walked about the room.

"Content is a very good thing to have," said Graeme, quietly.

"Yes, if one could have it. But now, Graeme, do tell me what is the
good of such a life as we are living now?--as I am living, I ought to
say. Your life and work are worth a great deal to the rest of us;
though you must let me say I often wonder it contents you. Think of it,
Graeme! What does it all amount to, as far as I am concerned, I mean?
A little working, and reading, and music; a little visiting and
housekeeping, if Fanny be propitious--coming, and going, and smiling,
and making believe enjoy it, when one feels ready to fly. I am sick of
the thought of it all."

Graeme did not answer her. She was thinking of the time when she had
been as impatient of her daily life as this, and of how powerless words,
better than she could hope to speak, had been to help her; and though
she smiled and shook her head at the young girl's impetuous protest
against the uselessness of her life, her eyes, quite unconsciously, met
her sister's with a look of wistful pity, that Rose, in her youthful
impatience and jealousy, was quick to resent.

"Of course, the rest would make an outcry and raise obstacles--that is,
if they were to be consulted at all," she went on. "But _you_ ought to
know better, Graeme," added she, in a voice that she made sharp, so that
her sister need not know that it was very near being tearful.

"But, Rose, you have not told me yet what it is you would do, if you
could have your own way. And what do you mean by having a life of your
own, and being independent? Have you any plan?"

Rose sat down, with a little sigh of impatience.

"There is surely something that we could do, you and I together. I can
have no plan, you know quite well; but you might help me, instead of--"
Instead of