d, so exquisitely fringed, did not smile in unison; they
had acquired a piercing and searching expression, altogether different
from their former brilliancy.

The elevated manners, the polished tone which high society alone
bestows, only increased the distance between the two cousins, though
Rose was certainly gratified by the exclamation of pleasure which told
how much better than she anticipated were the accommodations prepared
by her humble relative.

"Such pretty rooms--such beautiful flowers! Rose, you must have grown
rich, and without growing unhappy. Strange, you look ten years younger
than I do!"

"Late hours, public life, and anxieties," said Rose.

"Yes, that last appointment his lordship obtained, the very thing
above all others I so desired for him, has completely divided him from
his home. We hardly ever meet now, except at what I may call our own
public dinners."

"And he, who used to be so affectionate, so fond of domestic life!"
involuntarily exclaimed Rose.

"And is so still; but the usages of society, the intrigues and bustle
of public business, quite overthrow every thing of that kind. Oh, it
is a weary, wearying world!"

"But to a mind like yours, the achieving an object must be so
delightful!"

"Ay, Rose, so it is; but that sort of thing soon passes away, and we
have no sooner obtained possession of one, than another still more
desirable presents itself. How peaceful and happy you seem. Well, an
idle mind must be a perpetual feast."

"But I have not an idle mind, not an idle moment," replied Rose,
colouring a little; "my husband, my children, my humble household, the
care of the parochial schools, now that poor Mr. Stokes has grown so
infirm"--

"Yes, yes!" interrupted Helen; "and yet, Rose, when I look at you,
even now, I cannot but think you were fitted for better things."

"Better than learning how to occupy time profitably, and training
souls for immortality!" she replied; "but you are worn and tired, let
me wait upon you this one night, as I used long, long ago to do--let
me wait upon my own dear cousin, instead of a menial, this one night,
and to-morrow you shall see Edward and the children."

The worn-hearted woman of the great world laid her face upon her
cousin's shoulder, and then fairly hid it in her bosom. Why it was, He
only, who knows the mysterious workings of the human heart, can tell;
but she wept long and very bitterly, assigning no cause for her tears,
but sobbing