“Eh? Yes; all right! Certainly! The child always was fond of me, and it might give her too much of a shock to meet me suddenly, after so long a separation! Very considerate of you, Mark, certainly—very!” “Is there anything else I can order for you before I go?” “Eh? No, nothing; I am much obliged to you, nephew.” “Well, if you should think of anything after I am gone, you can ring for it, you know.” “Yes—yes.” “Good afternoon for the present, I will come and fetch you at tea-time.” “Yes; very well, I shall be ready. Hark ye, Mark! break my arrival to your wife cautiously, do you hear? Joy kills sometimes.” “I shall be careful not to endanger Rosalie’s life,” said Mark, smiling as he left the room. No sooner had the door closed behind his nephew, than, with a sigh of profound satisfaction, Uncle Billy arose and sat down in the easy chair, and drew the table towards him. In addition to everything else on the table, there was a tall, black bottle, which Mr. Bolling took up, uncorked, and put to his nose with a look of delightful anticipation. He sat it down suddenly, with an expression of intense disgust— “Tomato catsup, by all that is detestable, and I thought it was port wine! Here, waiter!—(where the devil is the bell-rope?) Waiter, I say!” A man in a linen apron put his head in at the door— “Did you call, sir?” “Yes; bring me a bottle of your best port wine.” The man withdrew, and after a while returned with a black bottle of the villanous drugged compound which is sold and bought as the best port wine, and which _bon vivants_ like Mr. Bolling imbibe with perfect faith. We will leave Uncle Billy to the enjoyment of his beloved creature comforts, and follow Mark Sutherland to his “sweet home.” CHAPTER XXIX. FAILING HEALTH. “’Tis shadow’d by the tulip tree—’tis mantled by the vine; The wild plum sheds its yellow fruit from fragrant thickets nigh, And flowery prairies from the door stretch till they meet the sky.” _Bryant._ On the outskirts of the town, embosomed in a grove of trees, stood Rose Cottage, the pleasant home of the Sutherlands. It was named partly from Rosalie, and partly from her favourite flower—the rose—of which every variety had been collected and cultivated to adorn her house and garden. The house itself was simple and plain in its structure—just an oblong two-story frame building, painted white, with green Venetian blinds, and having four rooms on each floor, with a wide passage running through the centre from front to back, and with an upper and lower piazza running all around the house.