“No; when you’re most contented, you’re least so. The two things naturally go together, and keep up a constant flow of action that does away with torpidness.” “How long do you think it will be before my work is finished here?” “I don’t know. It’s rather a foolish question to ask. No one knows. It depends upon what time the seed takes to ripen and the bent of your mind.” “And in the evenings must I study?” “It is your only time. But what you want is plenty of hard work and plenty of deep thought.” “And that is almost everything,” said Rosalie. “I believe it is,” answered the frog; and by the simple process of pulling another knob emptied a shovelful of coal on the fire out of the chimney-side. It was not long after this when Rosalie prepared for bed. She rubbed the liquid on her hands, and found it very soon relieved them. Then she drank the contents of the bottle and retired to the inner room, first bidding the frog “Good-night.” “I sleep on the doorstep,” said it, “so you may sleep doubly secure. Nothing evil can cross me, for my life is charmed.” And, somehow or other, there seemed more life, strength, and independence in this small creature than there had ever been in Mariana. Poor Mariana! Rosalie fell asleep thinking of her, wondering how she had taken the news of her escape, and whether Mr. Barringcourt indulged in anything further than a frown when the truth was told to him. But these thoughts did not keep her long out of the land of dreams. Perhaps it was that Rosalie had enough to do thinking of her own affairs just then. It never struck her that her escape could make any material difference to Mariana. She imagined her living the same even life, with one real pleasure in the week in compensation for its darkness, and saw within her mind the wedding-dress nearing completion, and trembled in her sleep to think it soon must be finished and fade again to nothing for want of one to wear it. And in the night she dreamt the seeds were sown, the time of harvest came, and every seed appeared as a huge and barren stone. Then in despair and disappointment she wept upon them, and they disappeared. CHAPTER XVIII SEEDS GROWING CONTRARIWISE After that, life began in earnest for Rosalie. For some weeks her days were given to digging, her nights to mastering the alphabet of some unknown language. It was all dry work, and very hard. No one came near, except the frog, and she often found herself wishing for more human companionship. But still it was not Rosalie’s nature to grumble too much at circumstances. She contented herself with an occasional sigh, and for the rest learnt to love the harsh, croaking voice that had something to say about most things, and was always kind enough to revive her drooping spirits with cheering words.