ose. "I know I would. Mother
said that after father had gone, and after we were asleep, he asked
her if he might just look upon you for a moment; and she opened the
door, and he stood in it, looked towards you for a second, and
then turned and went out without a single word, seeming very much
agitated." Rose's voice was a little agitated too. Though she felt the
arm that was twined tenderly about her waist, she did not dare to look
in the face so near her own. "Mother says," she continued, "that he
was very handsome and very pale. I suppose he is very poor, but--"

"But what, Rose?"

"I am sure," she said, hesitatingly, "that will make no difference."

Julia only answered with a little caress.

"When he comes back," said simple Rose, who was certain that it would
all come right, "he will want to come and see that lovely little
place, and you will want to come with him; I would like to see him."

"When he comes back," said Julia, brightly, "you shall see him, little
Rose; you are a dear, good girl, and if you are ever in peril, I am
sure some brave, handsome man will come to you."

Rose hoped he would.

The older women had talked matters over also in their grave, prudent
woman's way, and both learned from the brightness in Julia's face and
eyes, that the ramble in the woods had been pleasant. On their way
home Julia described it all to her mother.

They drove around by way of Mrs. Ridgeley's, and found her busy and
cheerful. She had a letter from Bart full of cheerful encouragement,
and the Colonel had returned, and would remain in Newbury for the
present.

Julia caught George and this time actually kissed the blushing,
half-angry, yet really pleased boy.

The next day Mrs. Ridgeley visited the graves of her husband and son,
on her way from her friend Mrs. Punderson's, and was touched by the
evidences of a watchful care that marked them. At the head of Henry's
grave was planted a beautiful rose tree, full of buds, and a few wild
flowers lay withered among the green grass springing so freshly over
him. The mother wondered what hand performed this pious act. Like
Bart, she supposed that some gentle maiden thus evinced her tenderness
for his memory, and was very anxious to know who she was.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

ROUGH SKETCHES.

The sun drank up the waters out of Jefferson, and the almanac brought
the day for the May term of the Court for Ashtabula county; came
the Judge, the juries and unfortunate parti