“My dear,” said her mother, going up to her, “I do not know that Mr. Incledon will be here to-day; but if he comes I must give him an answer. Have you reflected upon what I said to you? I need not tell you again how important it is, or how much you have in your power.” Rose clasped her hands together in self-support, one hand held fast by the other, as if that slender grasp had been something worth clinging to. “Oh! what can I say?” she cried; “I--told you; what more can I say?” “You told me! Then, Rose, everything that I said to you last night goes for nothing, though you must know the truth of it far, far better than my words could say. Is it to be the same thing over again--always over again? Self, first and last, the only consideration? Everything to please yourself; nothing from higher motives? God forgive you, Rose!” “Oh, hush, hush! it is unkind--it is cruel. I would die for you if that would do any good!” cried Rose. “These are easy words to say; for dying would do no good, neither would it be asked of you,” said Mrs. Damerel impatiently. “Rose, I do not ask this in ordinary obedience, as a mother may command a child. It is not a child but a woman who must make such a decision; but it is my duty to show you your duty, and what is best for yourself as well as for others. No one--neither man nor woman, nor girl nor boy--can escape from duty to others; and when it is neglected some one must pay the penalty. But you--you are happier than most. You can, if you please, save your family.” “We are not starving, mamma,” said Rose, with trembling lips; “we have enough to live upon--and I could work--I would do anything”-- “What would your work do, Rose? If you could teach--and I don’t think you could teach--you might earn enough for your own dress; that would be all. Oh, my dear! listen to me. The little work a girl can do is nothing. She can make a sacrifice of her own inclination--of her fancy but as for work, she has nothing in her power.” “Then I wish there were no girls!” cried Rose, as many a poor girl has done before her, “if we can do nothing but be a burden--if there is no work for us, no use for us, but only to sell ourselves. Oh, mamma, mamma! do you know what you are asking me to do?” “I know a great deal better than you do, or you would not repeat to me this vulgar nonsense about selling yourself. Am I likely to bid you sell yourself? Listen to me, Rose. I want you to be happy, and so you would be--nay, never shake your head at me--you would be happy with a man who loves you, for you would learn to love him. Die for us! I have heard such words from the lips of people who would not give up a morsel of their own will--not a whim, not an hour’s comfort”-- “But I--I am not like that,” cried Rose, stung to the heart. “I would give up anything--everything--for the children and you!”