“GOD is looking at you, Miss Aguilar, and you cannot cover your face from Him!” said the old lady, severely. “I do not wish to, indeed,” replied Rose, meekly, uncovering her face again, “I do not wish to; but I _do_ wish He would take me away—would catch me up from the earth—would send my angel mother to fetch me!” Mrs. Collins did not reply to this; she sat the bed, seemingly unwilling to converse with her. At last she said— “Did you ever mention to your cousin your wish to return to Maryland, Miss Aguilar?” “No, I did not.” The old lady looked disapprobation, but inquired— “May I presume to ask _why_, Miss Aguilar?” “I have made several attempts, but Hagar gives me no opportunity of speaking to her at all!” “Not to-day, Miss Aguilar?—not a half hour before this?” “Oh, to-day—to-day—I _could_ not talk to her—could not _look_ at her or bear her look!” The old lady now grew positively pale, and shrank away from the side of the girl. Rosalia followed the gesture with deprecating eyes. “You must excuse me, Miss Aguilar, but all this is very horrible—very!” She was silent again for a long time, and then she said— “You spoke, Miss Aguilar, of your wish to follow your friend, Mrs. Wilde; as that is quite impossible, why not now go back to Maryland to your future moth—to Mrs. Buncombe?” “Yes, yes; I will do that, if they will let me—I wish to do it!” “Mrs. Withers will very gladly assist your departure, Miss Aguilar.” “Will _you_ ask her?” “I will.” “Go now and do it; let it all be arranged during these rainy days, so that as soon as the bad weather is over I shall be able to set out; it is no use to put off the journey until we can write to Emily and she can reply to our letter or come after me; _that_ would make the interval too long. Some one will be travelling down to Washington just at this season. Yes, members of Congress will be going soon, and Hagar can send me with some gentleman’s family; or, at all events, I can travel alone—I am not afraid of water now! not now! My God! not of death in any shape or form. Go now! go to Hagar, Mrs. Collins!” The old lady arose and left the room, full of the darkest suspicions; she found Hagar in the nursery. After a little desultory conversation, she remarked, as composedly as she could— “I have just come from the chamber of Miss Aguilar; I think there is nothing as yet the matter with her health of body; her mind seems disturbed, disordered, depressed.” Hagar, of course, knew _that_; but attributed it to the wounded spirit—wounded by her own recent harshness. The old lady continued— “And she expresses a wish to return to Maryland!” “Indeed! Does she?” exclaimed Hagar, looking up. “Yes, and I think the change of air and scene would benefit her spirits.” The color was coming back to Hagar’s cheek, and the light to her eye. The old lady went on to say—