But poor Rose! Bitter indeed was her distress when she found we had no comfort to give her. The shock was too great for her physical strength, and ere many hours had elapsed it was evident that a severe illness would be the consequence. For days she lay tossing in feverish delirium; whilst we kept anxious watch by her bedside, much fearing what the issue might be. But our fears were mercifully disappointed; the fever turned, and soon the much-loved patient was pronounced out of danger. But the improvement was very gradual, and after a while almost imperceptible. Extreme exhaustion was accompanied in Rose’s case by an apathetic indifference to everything around her, which formed the chief barrier to her recovery. She felt no desire to get strong again, now that life had no longer any great attraction for her. ‘If we could only rouse her to take an interest in anything, she would soon be well,’ the doctor said to me one day. A possibility of doing so occurred to me at that moment, and I resolved to try, though I could scarcely hope to succeed. In the evening, when I was sitting by Rose’s couch, and knew that Mr Aslatt had gone out, and would not be back for an hour or two, I said to her gently: ‘I think you feel a little stronger to-day; do you not, darling?’ A heavy sigh was the only response to my question. I knelt by her side, and gently drew her head upon my shoulder as I whispered: ‘I wish you could unburden your heart to me, dear Rose. Would it not be a relief to tell me the sad thoughts that occupy your mind?’ No answer but by tears, which I was glad to see, for I knew they would relieve her heavy heart. After a while, words followed. She told me how little she cared to get well again; what a dreary blank life appeared to her, now that he whom she had so loved and trusted had proved unworthy; how it seemed to her she was of no use in the world, and the sooner she were out of it the better for herself and every one else. And a great deal more in the same strain. I reminded her of her guardian’s love for her, and his great anxiety for her recovery, and urged her to try to get well for his sake. But she only shook her head despondingly. ‘I have never been anything but a trouble to him,’ she said; ‘he would be happier without me. If I were out of the way, I daresay he would marry. I used to make plans for his future as well as for my own, you know; but now everything will be different.’ ‘I do not think Mr Aslatt would have married,’ I ventured to say. ‘Why not?’ asked Rose. I was silent, and she did not repeat the question. ‘I have a story to tell you, Rose, which I think you may like to hear,’ I said presently. ‘A story!’ she said in surprise. ‘Yes, darling, a story.’