The hot blood rushed to my cheeks as I replied quickly, “He is engaged to Miss Montrose. They were to have been married this fall, Mrs. Lansing said, but the marriage is, I presume, deferred on account of their recent affliction. At least I hear nothing said of it.” “If I am any judge of human nature,” returned Charlie, “Mr. Delafield cares far more for _you_ than for Miss Montrose, even if they _are_ engaged. But then you are poor, while she is rich, and that I suppose makes the difference.” I knew Mr. Delafield too well to suspect him of mercenary motives in marrying Ada, and so I said, “He loved her, of course, and it was natural that he should, for though she had some faults, he probably saw in her enough of good to overbalance the bad.” And still I could not help thinking that, as Charlie had said, his attentions to me were far more lover-like than they were towards her. But then I fancied that his kindness was prompted by the pity which he felt for me, a young girl so far from home. Thus the days wore on, leaving me deceived—and him deceived, while the letter still lay behind the bureau! At last the morning dawned on which I was to say good-bye to the scenes I loved so well. I was to leave the “sunny South,” with its dark evergreens, its flowering vines, its balmy air. I was to leave _him_, who, ere the next autumn leaves were falling, would take to his beautiful home a bride. Then I thought of little Jessie’s grave, which I had not seen, and on which my tears would never fall, and taking from its hiding-place the tress of shining hair, I wept over that my last adieu. It was later than usual when Mr. Delafield appeared, and as he came in I saw that he was very pale. “Are you sick?” I asked, as he wiped the perspiration from his face. “No, no,” he hurriedly answered; at the same time crossing over to a side table, he poured out and drank two large goblets of ice water. Then resuming his former seat near me, he took my hand, and looking me earnestly in my face, said, “_Rose_, shall I ever see you here again?” Before I could answer, Ada chimed in, “Of course we shall. Do coax the doctor to bring you here sometime, and let us see how you bear the honors of being madam!” Instantly the earnest look passed away from Mr. Delafield’s face, and was succeeded by a scowl, which remained until the carriage which was to take me to the dépôt was announced. Then the whole expression of his countenance changed, and for a brief instant my heart thrilled with joy, for I could not mistake the deep meaning of his looks as he bent over me and whispered his farewell. “God bless you, Rose,” he said. “_My Rose_ I once hoped to call you. But it cannot be. Farewell!” There was one burning kiss upon my lips, and the next moment he was gone. “Are you going to the dépôt?” asked his sister, as he was leaving the room.