It was Browning’s turn now to tremble and perspire.  “Bless my soul, Jim!” said he, “no drift on the Comstock was ever half so hot as this, never, by Jove!”

They were admitted and shown to the parlor.  Browning asked for Mrs. and Miss Hamlin, and bade the servant say some friends desired to see them.

Who can picture the joy that followed the coming of those ladies into the room!  It is better to imagine it.

After an hour had passed, and the tears had dried, and the tremblings ceased a little, Browning’s sister drew him a little aside and asked him why he did not inquire about some one else.

“Because,” said he, “I dare not.”

“Well,” said the dear girl, “she is due here even now.  If you will go into the library I will meet her, tell her mother has a caller, and propose that we go to the library.  When we get there I will lose myself for your sake, and, like the famous witches, ‘dissolve into thin air.’”

“She is not married?” asked Browning.

“No,” replied his sister.

“Heart whole?” Browning queried.

“How should I know?” answered his sister; “but there is the door-bell.  Hurry Jack!  This way to the library!”

Rose Jenvie came in.  Grace met and greeted her in the hall.

“Why, Grace,” said Rose, “you have been crying.  What is wrong, dear?”

“Nothing is wrong,” said Grace, “nothing at all, and I have not been crying.”  And all the time the tears were running down her cheeks.

“Why,” exclaimed Rose, “what in the world is the matter?  What has so upset you this morning?”

“I tell you, nothing,” answered Grace.  “Mamma has a caller in the parlor; let us go to the library.”

Reaching the door, Grace opened it for Rose, and then said, pettishly, “There!  I have forgotten a letter I wish to show you; go in, and I will be back directly.”

Rose naturally walked in, when Grace closed the door behind her, turned the key noiselessly and fled.

The curtains were half drawn, the day was cloudy, and Rose advanced two or three steps into the room before she discovered another occupant.  That occupant rose as she stopped.  She saw a manly fellow with hair cut short and full mustache.  He saw a woman a little above the medium height, with hazel eyes, full and proud, a fair, clear-cut face, a slight but perfectly developed form, and the face wore a look which it seemed to him was sad, despite its beauty, as though some thought within made a shadow on the fair young life.

The young man gazed a moment, then raising and opening his arms, in a voice that shook perceptibly, said, “Rose!”

She gazed a moment, then with a joyous cry of “O, Jack!” sprang into the outstretched arms, and for the first time in their lives their lips met.

There were tears in Jack’s eyes; the tears were raining down Rose’s face, and both were shaking as with a burning ague.  Browning sank upon a sofa, still clasping the fair girl in his strong arms, and seating her beside him.