ny could not
find words enough to express her enthusiastic rapture at such a miracle
of babydom, and kissed Master Reginald into an angry fit of crying.

They got up to their rooms at last. Rose broke down again in the
seclusion of her chamber, and cried until her eyes were as sore as her
heart. How happy they all looked, loving and beloved; and she, the
deserted wife, was an object of pity. While she sat crying, there was a
tap at the door. Hastily drying her eyes, she opened it, and admitted
Grace.

"Have you been crying, Rose?" she said, tenderly taking both her hands,
and sitting down beside her. "My poor dear, you must try and forget your
troubles, and be happy with us. I know it is very sad, and we are all
sorry for you; but the husband you have lost is not worth grieving for.
Were you not surprised," smiling, "to see Mr. La Touche here?"

"Hardly," said Rose, rather sulkily. "I suppose he is here in the
character of Eeny's suitor?"

"More than that, my dear. He is here in the character of Eeny's
affianced husband. They are to be married next month."

Rose uttered an exclamation--an exclamation of dismay. She certainly had
never dreamed of this.

"The marriage would have taken place earlier, but was postponed in
expectation of your and Kate's arrival. That is why Harry and Agnes are
here. M. La Touche has a perfect home prepared for his bride in Ottawa.
Come, she is in Kate's room now. I will show you her trousseau."

Rose went with her step-mother from her chamber into Eeny's
dressing-room. There was spread out the bridal outfit. Silks, in rich
stiffness, fit to stand alone; laces, jewels, bridal-veil, and wreath.
Rose looked with dazzled eyes, and a feeling of passionate, jealous envy
at her heart. It might have been hers, all this splendour--she might
have been mistress of the palace at Ottawa, and the wife of a
millionaire.

But she had given up all for love of a handsome face; and that handsome
face smiled on another now, and was lost to her forever. She choked back
the rebellious throbbing of her heart, and praised the costly wedding
outfit, and was glad when she could escape and be alone again. It was
all bitter as the waters of Marah, to poor, widowed Rose; their
forgiveness, so ready and so generous, was heaping coals of fire on her
head; and at home, surrounded by kind friends and every comfort so long
a stranger to her, she felt even more desolate than she had ever done in
the dreary London lo