“And well for me that it is in your case, as I have often thought,” she said in sportive tone, “for it seems to hide all my imperfections and show you virtues that are wholly imaginary.”

“Then it is a very good and desirable kind of blindness, I think,” remarked Grandma Elsie with her pleasant smile.

“Now, Cousin Elsie, please tell me about Rosie,” Marian requested with a look of keen interest.  “I suppose she is both very busy and very happy.”

“Quite busy and happy too, I think, except when her thoughts turn upon the approaching separation—­partial at least—­from home and its loved ones.”

“And doubtless that thought makes you sad too, cousin,” sighed Marian.  “Ah, what a world of partings it is! and how sudden and unexpected many of them are.”

“Yes; but there are none in that happy land to which we are journeying.  Ah, what a blessed land it must be! no sin, no sorrow, pain or care, no death, but eternal life at the foot of the dear Master whose love for his redeemed ones is greater, tenderer than that of a mother for her own little helpless child.”

“How intense it must be!” said Marian musingly.  “I can realise that now as I never could before my little darling came.  But now, about Rosie and her betrothed.  Do they not expect to settle somewhere in this region, cousin?”

“I think that question remains yet to be fully discussed; it is certainly still undecided.  Probably they will not for some time settle permanently in any one spot.  Mrs. Croly is an invalid, almost constantly being taken from place to place in search of health, and never satisfied to be long separated from either husband or son—­her only child.”

“Ah, I’m afraid that will make it hard for Rosie,” said Marian.  “By the way, I think they would better bring her here and put her in our doctor’s care,” she added with a smiling and arch look up into her husband’s face.

“Ah, my dear!” he said with a slight smile and a warning shake of the head, “don’t allow yourself to take to the business of hunting up cases for me; especially chronic and incurable ones.”

“But is she so bad as that?” asked Marian, turning to her cousin Elsie again.

“I suppose so,” Elsie replied.  “I have never been told that her case was considered incurable, but I know that she has been an invalid for many years.”

“And with no daughter to nurse and care for her!  She may well deem herself fortunate in getting one so sweet and bright as Rosie.”

“Rosie has had no experience as a nurse,” said her mother, “but she is kind-hearted and I hope will prove a pleasant and helpful daughter to her husband’s mother; as she has been to her own.”

“I haven’t a doubt of it.  And is the wedding to come off soon, cousin?”

“The day has not yet been set,” replied Mrs. Travilla, with a slight sigh at thought of the parting that must follow, “but we expect to fix upon one in the latter part of June; which I hope will give you time to grow strong enough to make one of our party.  But I fear I am keeping you talking too long,” she added, rising and laying the babe, who had fallen asleep again, gently back among its pillows.