But Rotha did not like the Home. Its forms and varieties of infirmity, disease, and decay, were very disagreeable to her. She had one of those temperaments to which all things beautiful, graceful, and lovely, speak with powerful influences, and which are correspondingly repelled and distressed by the tokens of pain or want or coarse living. All the delight of these women at the sight of Mrs. Mowbray, and all their intense enjoyment of her gifts, manifested broadly and abundantly, could not reconcile Rotha to the sight of their worn, wrinkled faces, bowed forms, bleared eyes, and dulled expression. Every one was not so; but these were the majority. Certainly Rotha had not had a very dainty experience of life during the years of her abode in New York; she had lived where the poorer classes lived and been accustomed to seeing them. But there the sick and infirm were mostly in their houses, where she did not visit them; and the exceptions were noticed one at a time. Here there was an aggregation of infirmity, which oppressed her young heart and revolted her fastidious sense. It was not pleasant; and Rotha, like most others who have no experience of life, was devoted to what was pleasant. She wondered to see the glee and enjoyment with which Mrs. Mowbray moved about among these poor people; a word, and a word of cheer, for every one; her very looks and presence coming like beams of loving light upon their darkness. She seemed to know them almost all. "How's rheumatism, aunty?" she asked cheerily of a little, wrinkled, yellow old woman, sitting in a rocking chair and hovering near a fire. "O missus, it's right smart bad! it is surely." "Where is it now? in your hands, or your feet?" "O missus, it is all places! 'Pears there aint no place where it aint. It's in my hands, and in my feet, and in my head, and in my back; and I can't sleep o' nights; and the nights is powerful long! so they be." "Ah, yes; it makes a long night, to have to lie awake aching! I know that by experience. I had rheumatism once." "Did you, missus! But it warn't so bad as I be?" "No, not quite, and I was stronger to bear it. You know who is strong to help you bear it, aunty?" "Yes, missus," said the poor creature with a long sigh;--"I does love de Lord; sartain, I do. He do help. But I be so tired some times!" "We'll forget all that when we get to heaven, aunty." There was a faint gleam in the old eyes, as they looked up to her; a faint smile on the withered lips. The rays of that morning light were catching the clouds already! "Now, aunty, I've brought you some splendid tea. Shall I make you a cup, right off?" "You wouldn't have time missus--" "Yes, I would! Time for everything. Here, Sabrina, bring a kettle of boiling water here and put it on the fire; mind, it must boil."