A bright Saturday morning had been arranged for one of those expeditions.  April showers had already been the means of bringing forth flowers (if not May flowers), only to be found by the penetrating eyes of “Trapper Johnnie,” as some of the more mischievous urchins had dared to designate their leader.

When, on the auspicious moment, at the marshalling of the clan, two had dared to break the rules, so strictly laid down, surprise was momentarily visible on many faces.

Lady Rosamond, the next in importance to Johnnie, had pleaded inability to attend, with a desire to retain her friend and companion.  There was something in the pleading and beautiful eyes of Lady Rosamond that drove vexation at a respectful distance, and welcomed, in its stead, a feeling akin to sympathy within the heart of the manly boy.  True chivalric dignity asserted itself in every form when necessity demanded.  Her ladyship instantly received permission to remain, with a generous grace that made Johnnie a true hero in the estimation of his fair suppliant.

“Accept this favor, Sir Knight, as a token of the sincerity of your lady,” said Lady Rosamond, stepping forward with a knot of pale blue silk in her hand.

With the brave gallantry of a Douglas, our hero knelt at the feet of her ladyship, and, receiving the favor, in graceful recognition kissed the fair hand that placed it there.

“Well done, my boy!” cried Sir Howard, who had been watching the ceremony from an open window, whence he had heard all that passed, and the circumstances which led to it; “you have already shown that spirit which I hope will always characterize my children.”

After the picnickers had departed Lady Rosamond and Mary Douglas returned to the house, where they were met by Lady Douglas.

“My child, are you ill to-day?” said her ladyship; “you are unusually pale, while your eyes have a wearied look.”

“I do not feel quite well this morning,” returned Lady Rosamond, languidly.

“You need rest, my dear, after the fatigue of last evening; too much gaiety does not bring a bloom to my Rosamond,” said her ladyship, kissing the pale cheek of the lovely girl, adding:  “My dear, you must retire to your room, while I prepare a gentle sedative.”

Lady Rosamond did retire.  She also received the cooling draught from the fair hand of Lady Douglas, whose kindness shone in administering to the wants of others.

Poor Lady Rosamond’s rest could not be gained by the simple sedative.

Physical ailments are not the worst form of suffering that afflict humanity.  Lady Rosamond was enduring a mental conflict that was crushing in its intensity.  The more she tried to baffle its power the more forcibly did it affect her.  Vainly had she struggled within herself for aid, but no response.  Faint hope dawned in the form of appeal.  She now resolved to go to her dear companion with all her trials and tale of suffering.  At intervals this hope died away, but in the end gained the mastery.  It was this resolve that kept Lady Rosamond from joining in the festive train that set off that morning.  It was this resolve that detained Mary Douglas as well.  It was this resolve that bade Lady Rosamond to seek the quiet of her chamber preparatory to the trying disclosure.