“I believe,” said the gentleman, “he is right, quite right; for out of such religion springs contentment, and all the higher as well as the humbler virtues.  Yes, he is quite right.”  Much more he urged Rose, with all the persuasive eloquence of warm affection, to discover, if it were possible, she could change.  He tried her on all points, but she replied with the clear straightforward truthfulness that has nothing to conceal.  She wavered in nothing:  firm to her love, steady to her principles, right-thinking and clear-sighted, he felt that Rose Dillon of Abbeyweld would have added the dignity of virtue to the dignity of rank, but that her mind was of too high an order to bend to the common influences that lead women along the beaten track of life.

They parted to meet no more; and Rose shed tears at their parting.  “I did not wish you to make a declaration that did me too much honour,” she said; “but I entreat you to say nothing of it to Mrs. Ivers.  My own course is taken, and God knows how earnestly I will pray that you may find one in every way worthy your high caste of mind and station.”

I wonder would Edward Lynne have quite approved of those tears; I wonder would he have been pleased to have observed the cheek of his affianced bride pressed against the drawing-room window, to catch a last glimpse of the cab which dashed from Mr. Ivers’ door.  Perhaps not—­for the generous nature of woman’s love and woman’s friendship, is often beyond man’s comprehension—­but he would have been pleased to see, after she had paced the room for half an hour, the eagerness with which she received and opened a letter from himself; to have witnessed the warm kiss impressed upon his name; to hear the murmured “dear, dear Edward!” Her heart had never for a moment failed in its truth—­never for an instant wavered.

That day week the cousins separated.  “You must come to me when I return, Rose,” said Helen—­“you must come and witness my triumphs.  My husband’s brother is very ill—­cannot live long—­but that is a secret.  I trust Ivers will make a figure in the lower, before called to the upper house; if he does not, it will break my heart.  There, God bless you, Rose; you have been very affectionate, very sweet to me, but I do, I confess, envy you that cheerful countenance—­cheerful and calm.  I always think that contented people want mind and feeling; but you do not, Rose.  By the way, how strangely Mr. ——­ disappeared; I thought you had clipped his wings.  Well, next season, perhaps.  Of course, after this, you will think no more of Edward.”  Fortunately for Rose, Helen expected no replies, and after a few more words, as I have said, they parted.

In little more than three months, Rose Dillon and Edward Lynne were married.

CHAPTER VIII.