“The marriage was long ago fixed to come off on Miss Sutherland’s birthday, and she and her friends see no reason to change it now. That, you know, my dear, is on the 15th of this month—a week from to-day. The ceremony is to take place in the morning, my love, and you are to be one of the bridesmaids. Immediately after the benediction, the bridal pair are to set out upon a tour of the springs and other places of fashionable summer resort, of six weeks. You and I, Rose, are going up into the pine woods, to a quiet farm-house, to spend the hot months; for indeed, dear child, I do not think you strong enough to bear the fatigue of a northern journey, or the crowd and bustle of a watering-place.” “Dear mamma, how much you give up for me!” “My child, I would do anything in the world to see you restored to health and cheerfulness like other young girls.” “But this, sweet mamma, is too much to sacrifice. It is too much for you to give up Saratoga and Nahant, where you meet so many friends and admirers, and where you enjoy and adorn society so much. Mamma, do not think of giving this pleasure up, and burying yourself for me in the pine woods. Let us go to Saratoga.” “My love! I tell you the long, fatiguing journey, the crowded hotels, the execrable tables, the wretched attendance, and the noise and confusion, would kill you, Rosalie!” “And then my sweet mamma would really be the rich young southern widow she is generally supposed to be,” said the girl, gazing on her young step-mother with a fond, sorrowful smile. “Oh, Rosalie! why did you say that to me, love? Do you believe in the traditional selfishness of all step-mothers, from the days of Cinderella’s step-dame to yours? Or have you read such poetry as— ‘There’s nothing true but heaven,’ till you have lost faith in all things?—poetry that, Heaven knows, gives anything but ‘Glory to God, and peace and good will to man.’” “Dear mamma, I am very sorry I said what I did. Oh, believe me, it was far from my heart to be so cruelly unjust as I see you must think me! _You selfish_—the most disinterested mother that ever cherished a poor, sick, troublesome child! Oh, forgive the light and thoughtless words that could be twisted into such a hint.” “Just tell me how you came to say what you did, Rosalie, for the words trouble me.” “Nay, never heed them, dear, kind mamma. Forget them; they were wicked words, since they gave you pain.” “Rosalie, I insist upon knowing what put such a thought into your head.” “Mother, sometimes I hear things not intended for my ear, which, nevertheless, I cannot help hearing”— “Explain.”