Breathing heavily in the sudden sleep that kindly brought a brief oblivion of himself, he lay with flushed cheeks, disordered hair, and at his feet the little rose, that never would be fresh and fair again,--a pitiful contrast now to the brave, blithe young man who went so gayly out that morning to be so ignominiously overthrown at night. Many girls would have made light of a trespass so readily forgiven by the world; but Rose had not yet learned to offer temptation with a smile, and shut her eyes to the weakness that makes a man a brute. It always grieved or disgusted her to see it in others, and now it was very terrible to have it brought so near,--not in its worst form, by any means, but bad enough to wring her heart with shame and sorrow, and fill her mind with dark forebodings for the future. So she could only sit mourning for the Charlie that might have been, while watching the Charlie that was, with an ache at her heart which found no relief till, putting her hands there as if to ease the pain, they touched the pansies, faded, but still showing gold among the sombre purple; and then two great tears dropped on them as she sighed,-- "Ah me! I do need heart's-ease sooner than I thought!" Her uncle's step made her spring up and unlock the door, showing him such an altered face that he stopped short, ejaculating in dismay,-- "Good heavens, child! what's the matter?" adding, as she pointed to the sofa in pathetic silence, "Is he hurt?--ill?--dead?" "No, uncle: he is--" She could not utter the ugly word, but whispered, with a sob in her throat, "Be kind to him," and fled away to her own room, feeling as if a great disgrace had fallen on the house. CHAPTER X. _THE SAD AND SOBER PART._ "How will he look? what will he say? can any thing make us forget and be happy again?" were the first questions Rose asked herself as soon as she woke from the brief sleep which followed a long, sad vigil. It seemed as if the whole world must be changed, because a trouble darkened it for her. She was too young yet to know how possible it is to forgive much greater sins than this, forget far heavier disappointments, outlive higher hopes, and bury loves compared to which hers was but a girlish fancy. She wished it had not been so bright a day, wondered how her birds could sing with such shrill gayety, put no ribbon in her hair, and said, as she looked at the reflection of her own tired face in the glass,-- "Poor thing! you thought the new leaf would have something pleasant on it. The story has been very sweet and easy to read so far, but the sad and sober part is coming now." A tap at the door reminded her that, in spite of her afflictions, breakfast must be eaten; and the sudden thought that Charlie might still be in the house made her hurry to the door, to find Dr. Alec waiting for her with his morning smile. She drew him in, and whispered anxiously, as if some one lay dangerously ill near by,--