Rose’s face was a study—­all that was good and evil in her was aroused at the sight of the rich and costly jewels—­vanity, cupidity, gratitude, tenderness.

“Oh, how superb they are!  I never saw such splendid gems!  A parure for a princess, and you give them to me?  What a munificent present!  How kind you are, Cora!  What can I do?  How shall I ever be able to return your kindness?” said Rose, as tears of delight and wonder filled her eyes.

“Wear them and enjoy them.  They suit your fair complexion very well.  And now let me bid you good-by, here.”

“No, no; not yet.  I will go down and see you off—­see the very last of you, Cora, until the carriage takes you out of sight.  Oh, dear, it may indeed be the very last that I shall ever see of you, sure enough.”

“I hope not.  Why do you speak so sadly?”

“Because I am not strong.  My father died of consumption; so did my elder brothers and sisters, the children of his first marriage, and often I think I shall follow them.”

Mrs. Rothsay looked at the speaker.  The transparent delicacy of complexion, the tenderness of the limpid blue eyes, the infantile softness of face, throat, and hands, certainly did not seem to promise much strength or long life; but Cora spoke cheerfully: 

“Such hereditary weakness may be overcome in these days of science, Rose.  You must banish fear and take care of yourself.  Now, I really must go and put on my bonnet.”

“Very well, then, if you must.  I will meet you in the hall.  Oh, my dear, I am so very grateful to you for these precious jewels, and more than all for the friendship and kindness that prompted the gift,” said Rose; and perhaps she really did believe that she prized the giver more than the gift; for such self-deception would have been in keeping with her superficial character.

Cora left the room and hurried to her chamber, where she put on her bonnet and her linen duster.  She had scarcely fastened the last button when her brother knocked at the door, calling out: 

“Come, Cora, come, or we shall miss the train.”

Cora caught up her traveling bag, cast

    “A long, last, lingering look”

around the dear, familiar room which she had occupied when at Rockhold from her childhood’s days, and then went out and joined her brother.

In the hall below they were met by Rose

“Be good to her, poor thing,” whispered Cora to Sylvan.

“All right,” replied the young lieutenant.

Rose’s eyes were filled with tears.  It seemed to the friendless creature very hard to lose Cora, just as Cora was beginning to be friendly.

“Good-by,” said Mrs. Rothsay, taking the woman’s hand.  But Rose burst into tears, threw her arms around the young lady’s neck, hugged her close, and kissed her many times.

“Good-by, my pretty step-grandmother-in-law,” said Sylvan, gayly, taking her hand and giving her a kiss.  “You are still