y ascribed her condition to fatigue; but Sybil then
scarcely knew what fatigue meant. After supper she aroused herself by an
effort, and offered to attend Mrs. Blondelle back again to that lady's
chamber; and when they got there, even lingered a little while, and very
kindly repeated her request that if Rosa should be frightened in the
night, she should run up the communicating stairs and rap at Sybil's
bedroom door for assistance. And then Sybil bade her visitor
good-night, and vanished up the stairs.

The travellers were all very tired, and so, notwithstanding Rosa's fears
and Sybil's jealousy, they were all soon fast asleep.

CHAPTER X.

THE JEALOUS BRIDE.

Yea, she was jealous, though she did not show it,
For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.--BYRON.

Rosa was the last to wake up in the morning. The nurse had already
dressed the child and taken him from the room; so Rosa rang her bell to
bring the truants back.

Janet came alone.

"Where is little Crow?" inquired Crow's mamma.

"In the breakfast-room, me leddy, on the laird's knee," answered the
girl.

"I tell you there are no lairds in America, Janet!" said the lady,
impatiently.

"Well, on the gentleman's knee, ma'am."

"Very well, now come help me to dress."

Janet hastened to obey, and in half an hour Rosa Blondelle issued from
her chamber, looking if possible even more beautiful than she had looked
on the previous evening; for she wore an elegant morning robe of white
cashmere, embroidered down the front and around the bodice, sleeves,
and skirt with a border of blue bells, and she had her splendid hair
dressed in the simple natural ringlets that were the most becoming to
her.

Janet walked before her mistress, to show the way. Far up the great
hall, she opened a door on the left-hand side, admitting the lady to a
delightful front room, whose front windows looked out upon the lake, the
valley, and the opposite range of mountains.

It was a golden October morning, and from a cloudless deep-blue sky the
sun shone down in dazzling splendor upon the valley, kindling up into a
conflagration of living light all the variegated foliage of the trees,
upon the mountain sides and the river's banks, where the glowing crimson
of the oak and the flaming orange of the elm mingled with the royal
purple of the dogwood and the deep green of the cedar. And all this