ly, and I can't afford to offend my uncle. I am sorry,
dear, that you are dissatisfied with the home I have provided for
you."

"I am not dissatisfied with my home," said she. "I have no desire to
mix with the world, but it is necessary for you, and these separations
are dreadful."

His answer was: "I will write often, dearest, and I will send you
quantities of new music. I shall always be looking forward to the
delight of hearing it when I return. You must take good care of your
health, for my sake. You must go ambling about with Thistle every
day."

The suggestion brought up associations that overcame her at once. "O
how Floracita loved Thistle!" she exclaimed. "And it really seems as
if the poor beast misses her. I am afraid we neglected her too much,
Gerald. We were so taken up with our own happiness, that we didn't
think of her so much as we ought to have done."

"I am sure I tried to gratify all her wishes," responded he. "I have
nothing to reproach myself with, and certainly you were always a
devoted sister. This is a morbid state of feeling, and you must try to
drive it off. You said a little while ago that you wanted to see how
the plantation was looking, and what flowers had come out in the
garden. Shall I take you there in the barouche to-morrow?"

She gladly assented, and a few affectionate words soon restored her
confidence in his love.

When the carriage was brought to the entrance of the wood the next
day, she went to meet it with a smiling face and a springing step. As
he was about to hand her in, he said abruptly, "You have forgotten
your veil."

Tulee was summoned to bring it. As Rosa arranged it round her head,
she remarked, "One would think you were ashamed of me, Gerald."

The words were almost whispered, but the tone sounded more like a
reproach than anything she had ever uttered. With ready gallantry he
responded aloud, "I think so much of my treasure that I want to keep
it all to myself."

He was very affectionate during their drive; and this, combined with
the genial air, the lovely scenery, and the exhilaration of swift
motion, restored her to a greater sense of happiness than she had felt
since her darling sister vanished so suddenly.

The plantation was in gala dress. The veranda was almost covered with
the large, white, golden-eyed stars of the Cherokee rose, gleaming out
from its dark, lustrous foliage. The lawn was a sheet of green velvet
embroidered with flowers. Magnolias a