"I am going out to New Zealand," replied Rosaline. "As soon as I have laid my dear mother in her last home--and Death's shadow is even now upon her--I bid farewell to England for ever. We have relations who are settled near Wellington, and they are waiting to receive me. Were Mr. Raynor a free man and had never possessed any other ties on earth, there could be no question, now or ever, of love between him and me." Daisy's delicate hand went out to clasp the not less delicate one that rested near her on the bed, and her cheeks took quite a red tinge for her own folly and mistakes in the past. A wonderful liking, fancy, admiration, esteem--she hardly knew what to call it--was springing up in her heart for this sad and beautiful young woman, whom she had so miserably misjudged. "Forgive me my foolish thoughts," she whispered, quite a painful entreaty in her eyes. "I wish I had known you before: I would have made a friend of you." "Thank you, thank you!" warmly responded Rosaline. "That is all I came to say; but it is Heaven's truth. I, the unconscious cause of the trouble, am more sorry for it than you can be. Farewell, Mrs. Raynor: for now I must go back to my mother. I shall ever pray for your happiness and your husband's." "Won't you kiss me?" asked Daisy with a sob. And Rosaline bent over her and kissed her. "Are you convinced now, Daisy?" questioned Frank, coming into the room when he had seen Rosaline out of the house. "Are you happier?" All the answer she made was to lie on his arm and cry silently, abjectly murmuring something that he could not hear. "I thought it best to ask Rosaline to come, as you would not believe me. When I told her of the mischief that was supposed to have been afloat, she was more eager to come than I to send her." "Forgive me, Frank! Please don't be harsh with me! I am so ashamed of myself; so sorry!" "It is over now; don't think about it any more," kissing her very fervently. "I will never be so stupid again," she sobbed. "And--Frank--I think I shall--perhaps--get well now." Rosaline had said that Death's shadow lay upon her mother even while she was talking with Mrs. Raynor. In just twenty-four hours after that, Death himself came. When the day's sunlight was fading, to give place to the tranquil stars and to the cooler air of night, Mrs. Bell passed peacefully away to her heavenly home. She had been a great sufferer: she and her sufferings were alike at rest now. It was some two hours later. The attendant women had gone downstairs, and Rosaline was sitting alone, her eyes dry but her heart overwhelmed with its anguish, when Blase Pellet came to make a call of inquiry. He had shown true anxiety for the poor sick woman, and had often brought her little costly dainties; such as choice fruit. And once--it was a positive fact--once when Rosaline was absent, Blase had sat down and read to her from the New Testament.