Then, for no other reason than a thirst for excitement, she longed to see that awakening, and one day when they sat together alone, she took Rosamond's hand in hers, and examining its scarcely legible lines, said, half playfully, half seriously, "Rosamond, people have called me a fortune-teller. I inherited the gift from my grandmother, and though I do not pretend to much skill, I can surely read your destiny. You _love_ Mr. Browning. I have known that all along. You think of him by day--you dream of him by night, and no thought is half so sweet as the thought of going home to him. But, Rosamond, you will not marry him. There is an impediment, as you say, but not insanity. I cannot tell you what it is, but I can see," and she bent nearer to the hand which trembled in her own. "I can see that for you to marry him, or--mark me, Rosamond--for you even to love him, is a most wicked thing--a dreadful sin in the sight of Heaven, and you must forget him--will you?" Rosamond had laid her face upon the bed and was sobbing hysterically, for Miss Porter's manner frightened her even more than her words. In reply to the question, "Will you?" she at last answered passionately, _"No, I won't!_ It is _not_ wicked to love him as I do. I am his _sister_, nothing more." Miss Porter's lip curled scornfully a moment, and then she said, "Let me tell you the story of _my_ life, shall I?" No answer from Rosamond, and the lady continued: "When I was about your age I fancied I loved a man who, I think, must have been much like Mr. Browning--" "No, no," interrupted Rosamond. "Nobody was ever like Mr. Browning. I don't want to hear the Miss Porter, but if I mistake not she will go home story. I don't want anything but to go home." I will not tell her until it's more necessary, thought much sooner than she anticipates. And she was right, for on that very night Mr. Browning sat reading a letter which ran as follows: "I find myself so happy with _your little_ Rosamond, who chances to be my room-mate, that I have postponed my visit to Riverside, until some future time, which, if you continue neutral, may never come--but the moment you trespass on forbidden ground, or breathe a word of love into _her_ ear--beware! She loves _you_. I have found that out, and I tell it because I know it will not make your life more happy, or your punishment easier to bear!" He did not shriek--he did not faint--he did not move--but from between his teeth two words came like a burning hiss, "Curse her!" Then, seizing his pen, he dashed off a few lines, bidding Rosamond "not to delay a single moment, but to come home at once." "She knows it all," he said, "and now, if _she_ comes here, it will not be much worse. I can but die, let what will happen." This letter took Rosamond and the Lawries by surprise, but not so Miss Porter. She expected it, and when she saw how eager Rosamond was to go, she smiled a hard, bitter smile, and said, "I've half a mind to go with you."