ther he had heard from
Mr. and Mrs. Fabian Rockharrt, his answer would be brief--

"Yes; they are both well. They are at Paris. They are at Berne. They are
at Aix," or wherever the tourists might then chance to be.

Sylvan was a better correspondent. He answered her letters promptly. His
comments on the visit of Rose Stillwater were characteristic of the boy.

"So you have got the Rose 'that all admire' transplanted to the
conservatories of Rockhold. Wish you joy of her. She is a rose without a
single thorn, and with a deadly sweet aroma. Mind what I told you long
ago. It contains the wisdom of ages. 'Stillwater runs deep.' Mind it
does not draw in and submerge the peace and honor of Rockhold. I shall
see you at the exhibition, when we can talk more freely over this
complication. If Mrs. Stillwater is to remain as a permanent guest at
Rockhold, I shall ask my sister to join me wherever I may be ordered,
after my leave of absence has expired. You see I fully calculate on
receiving my commission."

Cora looked forward anxiously to this meeting with her brother. Only the
thought of seeing him a little sooner than she should otherwise have
done could reconcile her to the proposed trip to West Point, where she
must be surrounded by all the gayeties of the Military Academy at its
annual exercises.

Cora had yielded to her grandfather's despotic will in going a little
into society while they occupied their town house in the State capital.
But she took no pleasure--not the least pleasure--in this.

To her wounded heart and broken spirit the world's wealth was dross and
its honors--vapor!

The only life worth living she had lost, or had recklessly thrown away.
Her soul turned, sickened, from all on earth, to seek her lost love
through the unknown, invisible spheres.

She still wore around her neck the thin gold chain, and suspended from
it, resting on her bosom, the precious little black silk bag that
contained the last tender, loving, forgiving, encouraging letter that he
had written to her on the night of his great renunciation for her sake,
when he had left all his hard won honors and dignities, and gone forth
in loneliness and poverty to the wilderness and to martyrdom.

Oh, she felt she was never worthy of such a love as that; the love that
had toiled for her through long years; the love that had died for her at
last; the love that she had never recognized, never appreciated; the
love of a great hearted man, whom