She agreed, in the same strain, to oblige him--a decision greeted with satisfaction by the pair in whose behalf he besought her friendly offices. The versatile invention and deft fingers of the little brunette were welcome to the heavily-taxed housekeeper, as were her gay good-humor and words of cheer and affection to the younger of her companions. The two girls became more confidential in six days than eighteen years of neighborly intercourse had sufficed to make them. Mabel's innate delicacy and excellent common sense would, in ordinary circumstances, have barred effusiveness upon the theme nearest her heart, but love at nineteen is rarely discreet, even when the persuasives to communicativeness are less powerful than were the sorcery of Rosa's sympathy and the confessions that paved the way to answering and trustful communicativeness on her friend's part. They were having what she called “a good, long, comforting, as well as comfortable chat” over their sewing in Mabel's chamber on the afternoon of the eighth day of Winston's absence. The weather was lovely, with the mellow brightness and balmy airs that make Virginian autumns a joy and glory until November is half spent, and the atmosphere held, at sunset, the warmth and much of the radiance which had set the day--a perfect gem--in the heart of the golden month. Into the eastern windows gazed the full moon, a crimson globe upon the hazy horizon, while Venus lay, large and tremulous, among the dying fires of the west. “'Lovers love the western star,'” quoted Rosa, merrily, taking Mabel's work from her and throwing it upon the bed. “Come and enjoy the holy hour with me.” They leaned together upon the window-sill, their young faces tinted by the changeful hues of the sky, both thoughtful and mute, until Rosa broke the silence by a heavy sigh. “O Mabel, you should be a happy, happy girl; blessed among women. You can love--freely and joyously--and have pride and faith in the one beloved.” “As you will some day,” rejoined the other, drawing nearer to her, “when you, in your turn, shall know the unspeakable sweetness of unquestioning faith--of utter dependence upon him to whom you have given your heart.” “Utter dependence!” echoed Rosa. “That would mean utter wreck of heart, hope--everything--should the anchor give way. It is a hazardous experiment, ma belle!” The other looked down at her with simple fearlessness. “'For it was founded upon a rock!'” she repeated softly; yet the exultant ring of her accent vibrated upon the ear like a joyous challenge. Rosa's fretful movement was involuntary. “Mine would drag in the sand at every turn of the tide, every rise of the wind, if I were to follow your advice, and say 'yes' to the pertinacious Alfred,” she said reproachfully.