ul, than
any other love could be, that I feel guilty, Yone,--feel as if I sinned
in loving you so, my great white flower?"

I ought to tell you how splendid papa was, never seemed to consider that
Rose had only his art, said I had enough from Aunt Willoughby for both,
we should live up there among the mountains, and set off at once to make
arrangements. Lu has a wonderful tact, too,--seeing at once where her
path lay. She is always so well oriented! How full of peace and bliss
these two months have been! Last night Lu came in here. She brought back
my amber gods, saying she had not intended to keep them, and yet
loitering.

"Yone," she said at last, "I want you to tell me if you love him."

Now, as if that were any affair of hers! I looked what I thought.

"Don't be angry," she pleaded. "You and I have been sisters, have we
not? and always shall be. I love you very much, dear,--more than you may
believe; I only want to know if you will make him happy."

"That's according," said I, with a yawn.

She still stood before me. Her eyes said, "I have a right,--I have a
right to know."

"You want me to say how much I love Vaughan Rose?" I asked, finally.
"Well, listen, Lu,--so much, that, when he forgets me,--and he will, Lu,
one day,--I shall die."

"Prevent his forgetting you, Yone!" she returned. "Make your soul white
and clear, like his."

"No! no!" I answered. "He loves me as I am. I will never change."

Then somehow tears began to come. I didn't want to cry; I had to crowd
them back behind my fingers and shut lids.

"Oh, Lu!" I said, "I cannot think what it would be to live, and he not a
part of me! not for either of us to be in the world without the other!"

Then Lu's tears fell with mine, as she drew her fingers over my hair.
She said she was happy, too; and to-day has been down and gathered every
one, so that, when you see her, her white array will be wreathed with
purple hearts-ease. But I didn't tell Lu quite the truth, you must
know. I don't think I should die, except to my former self, if Rose
ceased to love me. I should change. Oh, I should hate him! Hate is as
intense as love.

Bless me! What time can it be? There are papa and Rose walking in the
garden. I turned out my maid to find chance for all this talk; I must
ring for her. There, there's my hair! silken coil after coil, full of
broken lights, rippling below the knees, fine and fragrant. Who could
have such hair but I? I am the last of the Wi