xist it might have been a good thing for me to
marry George.

"Miss Temple did not come to the house that morning, as she so often
did, but I asked Emily to send over and invite her to tea; for I did not
wish to lose any time in the carrying out of my plans. It was about the
middle of the afternoon when Bernard and his brother came in from a
walk. I had been anxious to see George, because I wanted to talk with
him about Margaret before he met her. I was going to speak very
guardedly, of course; but I knew it would be well to prepare his mind,
and I had made up my mind exactly what I was going to say.

"I artfully managed so that George and I walked over the lawn to a bench
in the shade of a big tree where there was something or other--I
entirely forget what it was--which I said I would show him. Mr. and
Mrs. Cheston and Bernard were on the piazza, but I did not ask them to
join us.

"We sat down on the bench, and, in a general sort of way, I asked him
what he had been doing, meaning presently to bring up the subject of
Margaret, for I did not know what time she might drop in. But George was
just as anxious to talk as I was, and, being a man, he was a little more
pushing, and he said:

"'Now, little Rosa, I am so glad you came down here with me, for I have
something on my mind I want to tell you, and I want to do it myself,
before anybody else interferes. It is just this: I am engaged to be
married, and as soon as I get back from England I am going to--' And
then he opened his eyes very wide and looked hard at me. 'What is the
matter, Rosa?' he exclaimed. 'Don't you feel well?'

"In one instant all my plans and hopes and happy dreams of the future
had dropped to the ground, and had been crushed into atoms.

"'Well!' said I, and I think I spoke in a queer voice. 'I am very well.
There is nothing the matter with me. What is her name?'

"He told me; but I had never heard it before, and it was of no more
importance to me than the buzzing of a bee.

"'It will be very nice,' I said; 'and now let us go up to the house and
tell the others.'

"I think that for a woman who had just received such a blow as had been
dealt to me I behaved very well indeed. But I was cold and, I suspect,
pale. I listened as the others talked, but I did not say much myself;
and, as soon as I could make some excuse, I went up to my room. There I
threw myself into a great chair, and gently cried myself to sleep. I did
not sob loudly, because I