Frederic was too manly in feeling and habit of speech to deal in florid rhapsodies, but each line had its message from his heart to hers. He loved her purely and in truth, and there was not a sentence that did not tell her this, by inference, if not directly. He trusted her--and this, too, he told her, more as a husband might the wife of years than a lover of her he had won so lately. Their hopes were the same and their lives, and she dwelt longest upon the sketched plans for the future of these. It brought him closer to her than anything else--put her secret and reluctant imaginations of evil, and Rosa's daring insinuations, out of sight and recollection. She read slowly, and with frequent pauses, that she might take in the exquisite flavor of this and that phrase of endearment; set before herself in beauty and distinctness the scenes he portrayed as the adornment of the prospect which was theirs. The second and yet more deliberate perusal over, she folded the sheet with lingering touches to every corner, thrust it into the envelope, and drew it forth again to peep once more at the signature--“Forever and truly, your own Frederic;” pressed it to her lips, then to her heart, and bestowed it securely in her writing-desk, before she unclosed her brother's epistle. With her finger upon the seal--a big drop of red wax, like a petrified blood-gout, stamped with the Aylett coat-of-arms--she leaned through the casement to watch for the flutter of Rosa's white dress among the vari-colored maples shading the lawn--sang a clear, sweet second to the song that ascended to her eyrie: “Why weep ye by the tide, ladye? Why weep ye by the tide? I'll wed ye to my youngest son, And ye shall be his bride. And ye shall be his bride, ladye, Sae comely to be seen; But aye she loot the tears down fa' For lock o' Hazeldean.” “MY DEAR MABEL” [wrote the lord of Ridgeley]--“I wish you, so soon as you receive this, to communicate with Jenkyns and Smythe concerning the new parlor furniture I ordered from them. In talking it over, Clara and I have decided that it had better be covered with maroon, instead of green, as you advised. I enclose a sample of damask which they must match exactly. I would I write direct to them, but think it likely that Jenkyns, the managing man of the firm, is in your neighborhood at this time. He told me, when I was in town, of his intention to visit Mrs. Wilson, his sister, I believe, who lives on the White Oak road, about three miles from Ridgeley. Send for him, and put the samples into his hands. If he cannot get the precise color in Richmond, let him order it from New York.