"I do try, Rose. But poverty--poverty and trouble have left their mark. That mark has sunk deep, very deep. Still, I will try to live for your sake--indeed, for all your sakes. Don't cry, my dear daughter." I wiped my tears softly away. After a time, I said in a voice which I tried hard not to be tremulous: "Are you strong enough, mother, for me to say something?" "Yes, my darling, certainly." "Are you not a little surprised, mother, at this sudden change? Are you not a little curious to know by what means poverty has folded her wings and flown away from us?" My mother was silent for nearly a full moment, then she said slowly: "I know you have a story to tell me whenever I am ready to hear it. But I am too weak to listen to it to-night. Weakness keeps us from being very curious, Rose. I don't think, even in health, I was ever inordinately curious about anything. I was always able to take things on trust from those I loved. I can take riches on trust for the present, Rose." "You are just the sweetest mother in the world," I said, kissing her on her forehead. Just then the peal of the front-door bell penetrated into my mother's room. I started back at the sound. "What is the matter, dear?" she asked. "Did that bell startle you?" "It did, mother, because--because I know who has come." "Some friend of yours, darling?" "Yes, a--a friend of mine. I must go down-stairs to see him. Mother, give me your two hands for a moment." She gave them without a word. I bent low, and placed my mother's hands on my head. "Mother, say these words over me, `God bless you, Rosamund; your mother's God bless you!'" "Your mother's God abundantly bless you, my precious daughter?" said my mother. I kissed her thin hands passionately, and ran out of the room. A footman in livery was coming up the stairs. He bore a card on a silver salver. "The gentleman is in the drawing-room, miss," he said. I took the card, rushed past the astonished servant, and untidy and discomposed, tears scarcely dried on my cheeks, entered the drawing-room. My cousin Tom was standing by one of the windows. When he heard my step he turned quickly round, advanced a pace or two, then stood still, a crimson wave of colour dyeing his darkly-bronzed cheeks, and his white brow. He looked confused, awkward, uncertain. I, on the contrary, had no room in my over-full heart for embarrassment. "I have sent for you, Cousin Tom," I said, "to say that I will marry you as soon as ever you will have me." I looked him full in the face as I spoke, and when I had finished I held out one of my hands for him to take. He stared at me for a moment in absolute astonishment. Then a queer change came over his whole face. It became irradiated with the sweetest and most joyful light. He took my slim fingers between his two great hands, and almost crushed them.