aid, trying to speak naturally, and failing signally.
"And when are we going home?"

"Early in November, I believe. Frank and I are to make Montreal our
home, for he will not give up his profession, of course; and you shall
come and live with us if you like the city better than St. Croix."

Rose's slumbers that night were sadly disturbed. It was not the contrast
between her handsome bedroom and downy pillows, and the comfortless
little chamber she had slept in so long; it was not thought of her
sister's goodness and generosity: it was the image of Eeny, in silk and
jewels, the bride of Jules La Touche, the millionaire.

Somehow, unacknowledged in her heart of hearts, there had lingered a
hope of vengeance on her husband, triumph for herself as the wife of her
deserted lover! There would be a divorce, and then she might legally
marry. She had no conscientious scruples about that sort of marriages,
and she took it for granted Monsieur La Touche could have none either.
But now these hopes were nipped in the bud. Eeny--younger, fresher,
fairer, perhaps--was to have him and the splendid position his wife must
attain; and she was to be a miserable, poor, deserted wife all her days.

I am afraid Mrs. Stanford was not properly thankful for her blessings
that night. She had thought, only one day before, that to find her
friends and be forgiven by them would be the sum total of earthly
happiness; but now she had found them, and was forgiven, she was as
wretched as ever.

The contrast between what she was and what she might have been was
rather striking, certainly; and the bitterest pang of all was the
thought she had no one to blame, from first to last, but herself.

Oh, if she had only been true! This was what came of marrying for love,
and trampling under foot prudence, and honour, and truth. A month or two
of joy, and life-long regret and repentance!

Doctor Danton, his wife, and sister, took a hurried scamper over London,
and departed for Paris.

The weather in that gay capital was very warm, indeed, but delightful to
Rose, who had never crossed the Channel before. Paris was comparatively
familiar ground to the young Doctor; he took the two ladies sight-seeing
perpetually; and Mrs. Stanford almost forgot her troubles in the
delights of the brilliant French city.

A nurse had been engaged for baby, so that troublesome young gentleman
no longer came between his mamma and life's enjoyment. Her diminished
wardrobe had b