“I am not so much grieved as surprised,” said Mr. Sutherland. And after a short pause he said, “There was another—my cousin.” The face of the lady grew troubled—she did not speak. “Is _India_ well?” again spake Mark, in a faltering voice. “India is well, and beautiful as ever. She was the belle of Washington last winter—her beauty the theme of every tongue—the envy of every woman, the madness of every man. No assembly was complete without ‘the Pearl of Pearl River!’” Mark Sutherland grew pale, and shivered—saying, “Of course she”—— “Among her own sex there was no rival star. She divided public interest and attention only with St. Gerald Ashley, that great new planet on the political horizon.” Mark Sutherland’s whole strong frame was convulsed. He started up and paced the floor in extreme agitation—then, seizing his hat, rushed out of the room. “And _I_ was to prepare him for it, said Rosalie!” exclaimed Mrs. Vivian, looking after him, as the pity of her heart grew strong. CHAPTER X. ROSALIE AND HER LOVER. “She loves, but ’tis not him she loves— Not him on whom she ponders, When in some dream of tenderness Her truant fancy wanders. The forms that flit her vision through Are like the shapes of old, Where tales of prince and paladin On tapestry are told. Man may not hope her heart to win, Be his of common mould.”—_C. F. Hoffman._ In the meantime, the two young riders took their way up a narrow bridle-path, leading up a long crooked pass of the mountain. The morning was glistening with brightness and freshness, and the mingled joyous sounds of rural life made music in the air. They rode along awhile in silence, strange enough in a pair so youthful. At length the young man broke the spell. “Rose!” “Well, Robert!” “I cannot bear this suspense! I cannot, indeed. Heart and frame are wearing out with it!” Rosalie stole a glance at his clear, bright blue eye, and round, fresh, ruddy cheek, looking still brighter and fresher under the glossy, crisp, curling, auburn hair—and a smile lighted up her countenance. “Ah! you may laugh! You have the hardest, the most unimpressible heart I ever saw in my life! But good and strong as my constitution is, it will break down—it will indeed, Rosalie—if you keep this up much longer. And I wish it _would_ break down! I do so! Then perhaps you would pity me.” “But, Robert, my pity would be very poor compensation for lost health.” “I don’t know! If I could make you feel for me any way, or at any cost, I should be glad.” “I _do_, Robert. I feel a very sincere esteem and friendship for you. Surely you cannot doubt that.” “Oh! yes, you are good to me to a certain degree. Your heart is like a peach!” “Like a peach!”