duced his oracles; and she devoured them. Such precepts to
Tadcaster as she could apply to her own case she instantly noted in her
memory, and they became her law from that moment.

Then, in her simplicity, she said, "And I will show you some things, in
his own handwriting, that may be good for you; but I can't show you
the whole book: some of it is sacred from every eye but his wife's. His
wife's? Ah me! his widow's."

Then she pointed out passages in the diary that she thought might be for
his good; and he nestled to her side, and followed her white finger with
loving eyes, and was in an elysium--which she would certainly have put
a stop to at that time, had she divined it. But all wisdom does not come
at once to an unguarded woman. Rosa Staines was wiser about her husband
than she had been, but she had plenty to learn.

Lord Tadcaster anchored off Gravesend, and visited Mrs. Staines nearly
every day. She received him with a pleasure that was not at all lively,
but quite undisguised. He could not doubt his welcome; for once, when he
came, she said to the servant, "Not at home," a plain proof she did not
wish his visit to be cut short by any one else.

And so these visits and devoted attentions of every kind went on
unobserved by Lord Tadcaster's friends, because Rosa would never go out,
even with him; but at last Mr. Lusignan saw plainly how this would end,
unless he interfered.

Well, he did not interfere; on the contrary, he was careful to avoid
putting his daughter on her guard: he said to himself, "Lord Tadcaster
does her good. I'm afraid she would not marry him, if he was to ask her
now; but in time she might. She likes him a great deal better than any
one else."

As for Philip, he was abroad for his own health, somewhat impaired by
his long and faithful attendance on Rosa.

So now Lord Tadcaster was in constant attendance on Rosa. She was
languid, but gentle and kind; and, as mourners, like invalids, are apt
to be egotistical, she saw nothing but that he was a comfort to her in
her affliction.

While matters were so, the Earl of Miltshire, who had long been sinking,
died, and Tadcaster succeeded to his honors and estates.

Rosa heard of it, and, thinking it was a great bereavement, wrote him
one of those exquisite letters of condolence a lady alone can write. He
took it to Lady Cicely, and showed it her. She highly approved it.

He said, "The only thing--it makes me ashamed, I do not feel my poor
fat