"Oh, yes, 'tis a lovely place," answered Rosamond, "but--but--Mr. Browning is not here," and she averted her crimson face. "Is Mr. Browning so necessary to your happiness" Miss Porter asked, and bringing an ottoman, Rosamond sat down at her visitor's feet and thus replied: "We talked so much of him at the Springs that it surely is not foolish in me to tell you what everybody knows. Now, you won't laugh at me, will you? Mr. Browning and I are going to--oh, I can't tell it; but, any way, your fortune-telling is not true." "Mr. Browning and you are going to be married. Is that it?" the woman asked; and with a quick, upward glance of her soft, brown eyes, Rosamond replied, Yes, that's it--that's it; and oh, you can't begin to guess how happy I am. He is not _crazy_ either. It was something else, though I don't know what, for he never told me, and I do not care to know. The obstacle has been removed, whatever it was, and it has wrought such a change in him. He's so much younger-- handsomer, now, and so kind to me. I'm glad you've come, Miss Porter, and you'll stay till after the wedding. It's the twentieth, and he has bought me so many new things. We are going to Europe. Just think of a winter in Paris, with Mr. Browning! But, what! Are you _crying_?" and Rosamond started as a burning tear fell upon her forehead. "Rosamond Leyton," said Miss Porter, in a voice husky with emotion, "I have not wept in eight long years, but the sight of you, so innocent, so happy, wrings the tears from my stony heart, as agony will sometimes force out the drops of perspiration when the body is shivering with cold. I was young like you once, and my bridal was fixed--" She paused, and stealing an arm around her waist, Rosamond said pleadingly, "Tell me about it, Miss Porter, I always knew you had a history. Did the man die?" "No--no. Better for me if he had--aye, and better, too, for you." This last was a whisper, and Rosamond did not hear it. Her thoughts were bent upon the story, and she continued, "Will it pain you too much to tell it now?" "Yes, yes, wait," Miss Porter said, "Wait until after dinner, and meantime, as I cannot possibly stay until the 20th, perhaps you will let me see your dresses." Nothing could please Rosamond more, and gay as a little child, she led the way to a large upper room, which contained her wedding outfit. Proudly she displayed her treasures, flitting like a bird from one pile of finery to another, and reserving the most important until the very last. "There's the dinner-bell," she suddenly exclaimed, "I did not think it could be _one_. Only four hours more--but come, let us go down and after dinner, if you'll never tell Mrs. Peters, nor anybody, I'll try on my bridal dress and let you see if it is becoming. I want so much to know how it looks, since Maria put the rose-buds in the berthe. And then your story. I must hear that."