ce pass out of her sister's face and
manner; and it never came into her mind that she was turning back a page
in her own experience, over which Rose had long ago pondered with wonder
and sadness.

"I could not make Janet see the necessity that seemed so clear to me,"
she went on. "I could not make her understand, or, at least, I thought
she could not understand, for she spoke as though she thought that
Fanny's coming, and those old vexations, made me wish to get away, and
it was not easy to answer her when she said that my impatience and
restlessness would all pass away, and that I must fulfil papa's last
wish, and stay with the rest. I thought the time had come when the
necessity for that was over, and that another way would be better for
_me_, certainly; and I thought for Arthur and Fanny, too, and for you,
Rosie. But, Oh! how much wiser Janet was than I, that night. But I did
not think so at the time. I was wild to be set free from the present,
and to have my own will and go away. It was well that circumstances
were too strong for me. It has come true, as Janet said. I think it is
better for us all that I have been at home all those years. Fanny and I
have done each other good. It has been better for us all."

She paused a moment, and then added,--

"Of course, if it had been necessary that I should go out into the
world, and make my own way, I might have done as others have done, and
won, at least, a measure of success. And so we might still, you and I
together, Rose, if it were necessary, but that makes all the difference.
There is no question of necessity for us, dear, at present, and as for
God's work, and work for our fellow creatures, we can find that at home.
Without separating from the others, I mean."

But Rose's face clouded again.

"There need be no question of separating from the others, Graeme.
Norman is out there, and there are hundreds of women who have their own
place and work in the world, who have not been driven by necessity to
look for them--the necessity of making a living, I mean. There are
other necessities that a woman must feel--some more than others, I
suppose. It is an idle, foolish, vain life that I am living. I know
that I have not enough to fill my life, Graeme. I know it, though I
don't suppose I can make you understand it. I am past the age now to
care for being petted, and amused, and made much of by the rest of you.
I mean, I am too old now to feel that enough fo