And so, with the belief that her stay was to be short, Rose passively suffered them to dress her for the journey, which was to be performed partly by railway and partly in a carriage.  For the first time since the night of his engagement with Ella Campbell, Henry was this morning free from intoxicating drinks.  He had heard them say that Rose must die, but it had seemed to him like an unpleasant dream, from which he now awoke to find it a reality.  They had brought her down from her chamber, and laid her upon the sofa in the parlor, where Henry came unexpectedly upon her.  He had not seen her for several days, and when he found her lying there so pale and still, her long eyelashes resting heavily upon her colorless cheek, and her small white hands hanging listlessly by her side, he softly approached her thinking her asleep, kissed her brow, cheek and lips, whispering as he did so, “Poor girl! poor Rosa! so young and beautiful.”

Rose started, and wiping from her forehead the tear her brother had left there, she looked anxiously around.  Henry was gone, but his words had awakened in her mind a new and startling idea.  Was she going to die?  Did they think so, and was this the reason of Henry’s unwonted tenderness? and sinking back upon her pillows, she wept as only those weep to whom, in the full flush of youth and beauty, death comes a dreaded and unwelcome guest.

“I cannot die,—­I will not die,” said she at last, rousing herself with sudden energy; “I feel that within me which says I shall not die.  The air of Glenwood will do me good, and grandma’s skill in nursing is wonderful.”

Consoled by these reflections, she became more calm, and had her father now given his consent for her to remain in Boston, she would of her own accord have gone to Glenwood.

* * * * *

The morning train bound for Albany stood in the depot, waiting the signal to start; and just before the final “all aboard” was sounded, a handsome equipage drove slowly up, and from it alighted Mr. Lincoln, bearing in his arms his daughter, whose head rested wearily upon his shoulder.  Accompanying him were his wife, Jenny, and a gray-haired man, the family physician.  Together they entered the rear car, and instantly there was a hasty turning of heads, a shaking of curls, and low whispers, as each noticed and commented upon the unearthly beauty of Rose, who in her father’s arms, lay as if wholly exhausted with the effort she had made.

The sight of her, so young, so fair, and apparently so low, hushed all selfish feelings, and a gay bridal party who had taken possession of the ladies’ saloon, immediately came forward, offering it to Mr. Lincoln, who readily accepted it, and laying Rose upon the long settee, he made her as comfortable as possible with the numerous pillows and cushions he had brought with him.  As the creaking engine moved slowly out of Boston, Rose asked that the window might be raised, and leaning upon her elbow, she looked out upon her native city, which she was leaving for ever.  Some such idea came to her mind; but quickly repressing it, she turned towards her father, saying with a smile, “I shall be better when I see Boston again.”