t ffifofn Bo0fB. JFrontfspitcf. 
 
 'You have ruined mamma's pretty vase." p. 105.
 
 THE TWIN ROSES, 
 
 BT THE AUTHOR OP 
 
 'IRISH AMY," "NELLY, OR THE BEST INHERITANCE," &C. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
 
 No. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
 NEW YOKK: 599 BBOADWAY.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by the 
 
 AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States 
 
 for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAP. I. A HASTY PROMISE 7 
 
 II. THE BABIES 35 
 
 III. THE BO'SE TRANSPLANTED 6 1 
 
 IV. Miss BROWN 82 
 
 V. MISUNDERSTANDING 101 
 
 VI. THE BREACH WIDENS 126 
 
 VII. NELLY 140 
 
 VIII. DEATH 158 
 
 IX. FARTHER CHANGES 178 
 
 X. KOSY'S SECRET 196 
 
 XI. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 214 
 
 XII. A CONTEST 228 
 
 5
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 CHAP. XIII. KITTY 240 
 
 XIV. Miss BROWN 261 
 
 XV. BECKY 278 
 
 XVI. KITTY 290 
 
 XVII. THE MEETING 303 
 
 XVIIL KEUNION .. 310
 
 THE TWIN ROSES, 
 
 ffOW THEY WERE TRAINED. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. 
 
 S Mrs. Mark at home?" asked 
 Mrs. John Campion, hastily, as 
 she shook the snow from her 
 skirts on the steps of her sister- 
 in-law's house, and then, anticipating 
 the servant's reply, she exclaimed, in 
 a tone of vexation, " You don't mean to 
 say that she has gone out this horrible 
 evening ! I made sure of finding her at home; 
 and I want to see her so much !" 
 
 " She a'n't gone far," said the woman who 
 had opened the door, and who seemed rather 
 inclined to resent Mrs. Campion's remark. 
 "She only went across the common to carry 
 
 1* 7
 
 8 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 something to old Miss Brown. We had some 
 venison stew for dinner, and she thought may- 
 be the old women might relish it, as she hain't 
 had no appetite to speak of lately, and her 
 folks don't know how to cook, no more than 
 the pigs. If yon want to see her very much, 
 you'd better come in and wait; for she won't be 
 long, I'm sure." 
 
 " Just as likely as not she will stay all the 
 evening," said Mrs. Campion. " When Miss 
 Brown gets going on the subject of her feelings 
 and complaints, she never knows when to 
 stop." 
 
 " She don't get a chance to get going very 
 often : may-be that's the reason," replied Re- 
 becca, between whom and Mrs. Campion there 
 seemed to exist a sort of antagonism. " She 
 never can say a word to her own folks without 
 being snapped up. If ever the curse of in- 
 gratitude fell upon any one, it will fall upon 
 Martha James and her husband, for the way 
 they treat that old lady. But you'd better 
 come in; for here comes Mrs. Campion this 
 minute." 
 
 " Good-evening, Anne," said an alert little 
 woman, entering the porch as Becky spoke, 
 and making sundry energetic movements to
 
 A. HASTY PROMISE. 9 
 
 get rid of the clinging snow. " Isn't this a 
 storm? But why does Becky keep you stand- 
 ing at the door?" 
 
 " Because she couldn't make up her mind 
 whether she wanted to come in or not," said 
 Becky, answering for herself, as she retreated 
 to her own domain. " I suppose she can de- 
 cide, now you have come." 
 
 'What upon earth have you there, Vero- 
 nica?" asked Anne. Her sister-in-law care- 
 fully unfolded her shawl, and displayed a 
 small black kitten cuddled up in her arms. 
 " Well, I declare ! What a prize ! A present, 
 I suppose, from old Miss Brown." 
 
 " No," said Veronica. " Poor Miss Brown 
 has not even a cat of her own to give away. 
 This little thing I found astray upon the com- 
 mon, and it mewed at me so piteously, and 
 purred so joyously when I took it up, that I 
 had not the heart to abandon it in the snow- 
 storm." 
 
 " Well, never mind that now. I want to 
 talk to you about something more important 
 than kittens." 
 
 "In one minute," said Veronica. "Just 
 take off your bonnet and make yourself 
 comfortable, while I find some milk for
 
 10 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 this poor little thing. I am sure it is half 
 starved." 
 
 Anne made an impatient gesture, but fol- 
 lowed her sister's advice, and settled herself in 
 a comfortable arm-chair-, while Veronica pro- 
 vided a saucerful of warm milk for the kitten, 
 which it lapped with immense enjoyment. 
 Veronica now produced her knitting, and, set- 
 tling herself, in the other arm-chair, waited 
 for her sister-in-law's communication, not, it 
 must be confessed, with any appearance of ab- 
 sorbing interest. She knew how often Anne's 
 mountains produced the very smallest of mice; 
 and she expected nothing larger on the pre- 
 sent occasion. 
 
 "Veronica, do you remember Daisy Birch, 
 
 who was at school with us in T ?" asked 
 
 Anne. 
 
 " Little Daisy Birch ! Yes, certainly. She 
 roomed with Addy Brush, and afterwards 
 married her brother. An idle little thing she 
 was, always in some scrape or other, but very 
 pleasant and lively. What of her ?" 
 
 "Veronica, Daisy Birch is dying in the 
 Sisters' Hospital at this minute!" 
 
 "Why, Anne! Daisy Birch !' ; exclaimed 
 Veronica, effectually roused, and dropping
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. 11 
 
 her knitting. "Are you sure? Who told 
 you?" 
 
 "I have seen her this very day. Veronica. 
 I should say she could not last twenty-four 
 hours. The nurse says she may live a week 
 or two; but it does not seem possible." 
 
 "They have a great deal of experience, you 
 know," remarked Veronica. " But Daisy Birch ! 
 Poor little thing! How could it happen?" 
 
 "Very easily," replied Anne. "She has 
 been living down in New Orleans, and had 
 come as far as this place, on her way to New 
 England, where, it seems, she has some friends, 
 who she hoped might take care of her chil- 
 dren ; for she has twin babies about ten months 
 old, dear, rosy little girls as I ever saw. 
 Well, it seems that somewhere on the road 
 she met a person from her native place, who 
 told her that the old aunt, or whoever it was 
 she intended to go to, was dead, and there was,* 
 no one of her father's family left in the place.- 
 Perhaps the shock was too much for her: at 
 any rate, she was taken very ill at the hotel 
 here, and the landlord, not knowing what else 
 to do, sent her to the hospital, babies and all. 
 It was by the merest chance that I found her. 
 I went up to the hospital to carry some money
 
 12 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 I had been owing old Mrs. Sweeny, our wash- 
 erwoman, who has been there this long time 
 with her leg, you know." 
 
 "I know," said Veronica. "I have been 
 to see her a number of times." 
 
 "You never told me," said Anne. "Yon 
 might have done my errand as well as not. 
 But, however, I went into the wrong ward, by 
 mistake, and there was this poor little woman 
 sitting bolstered up in bed, for it seems she 
 cannot lie down, with her babies beside her. 
 She knew me in a minute, and called me by 
 name; but I did not recognize her in the least 
 till she told me who she was. You never saw 
 any one so changed. Her hair is as gray as 
 Miss Brown's." 
 
 "She used to have such superb chestnut 
 hair," said Veronica. " I don't think I ever 
 saw more beautiful hair. And she must be 
 young, too. She cannot be nearly thirty. But 
 did you hear any thing of her circumstances? 
 Is she poor ?" 
 
 " She says she has hardly a cent in the world. 
 You know she made a runaway match." 
 
 " I know there was some trouble or other 
 about her marriage. I remember I took a 
 great dislike to John Brush the only time I
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. 13 
 
 ever saw him, partly, perhaps, because he was 
 Addy's brother; though I know he had the 
 reputation of being fast even then." 
 
 "Well, it was a runaway match, as I said. 
 Daisy was an orphan, and a good deal of an 
 heiress. Addy got the credit of cooking up 
 the business, and I dare say she had a hand in 
 it. Daisy's guardian refused his consent; but, 
 as uhe property was all her own, of course he 
 had no control over her. I heard of them a 
 few years ago, boarding at the St. Charles in 
 New Orleans, and making a great dash. It 
 appears that Mr. Brush was killed in a duel 
 about three months before these babies were 
 born, and when the aifairs came to be ex- 
 amined, there was nothing left of Daisy's 
 property. All had been spent or wasted, and 
 she was literally destitute. 
 
 " Her money and jewels were taken to pay 
 their bill at the hotel. Finally, Addie took 
 her into her house, till after her babies were 
 born, and then coolly told her she would be 
 obliged to provide for herself, and advised her 
 to set up a school." 
 
 " Fancy Daisy teaching school !" exclaimed 
 Veronica. 
 
 " Fancy tiny woman teaching school with
 
 14 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 twin babies only three months old, and nobody 
 but herself to take care of them!" said Anne. 
 
 "But Daisy Birch, above all! Why, she 
 was the greatest dunce in the school. I don't 
 believe she was off the roll half a dozen times 
 
 in the whole three years I spent at T ; 
 
 and then it was only on the days when I was 
 monitress, and because I used regularly to 
 c.itch her and put her in her right place before 
 I rang the bell. She had fine musical talents, 
 I remember, and she did use to practise indus- 
 triously." 
 
 "It was her music which helped her at last," 
 said Anne. "Some clergyman interested him- 
 self and found her a place in a church-choir, 
 where she received a pretty good salary ; and 
 then she took pupils. But her strength soon 
 gave out. She was attacked with a cough, 
 and used to have slight turns of bleeding at 
 the lungs whenever she sang. At last she 
 had a severe attack, which laid her up entirely, 
 and the physician said there was no hope of 
 her ever being able to sing again. It was then 
 she formed the resolution of coming North to 
 find her father's friend ; and the clergyman who 
 had befriended her at first, got up a purse for 
 her and paid her passage up the river. But
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. 15 
 
 she was sick two or three times upon the road, 
 and she thinks some of her money was stolen. 
 At any rate, she has only three dollars left, 
 and the children are likely to go to the poor- 
 house, for aught I see. That is what I came 
 to tell you about. I told Daisy at once that 
 I would take one of the children and bring it 
 up for my own, and that you would adopt the 
 other. And I want you to go up to the hos- 
 pital the first thing in the morning and con- 
 firm my promise, that the poor thing's mind 
 may be entirely at ease." 
 
 A flush of something like indignation rose 
 in Veronica's face, and it seemed for a moment 
 that she could not trust herself to speak ; for 
 she bent her eyes steadfastly on her work, and 
 plied her needle busily for some moments be- 
 fore she answered. At last she said, calmly, 
 though without looking up, 
 
 " I don't think you should have said such a 
 thing in my name without consulting me. It 
 is a very serious matter to take a child in that 
 way," 
 
 "Well, I declare!" exclaimed Anne, flush- 
 ing in her turn. " If I had supposed you 
 stood so extremely on your dignity, Veronica, 
 I am sure I would not have ventured to use
 
 16 THE TWIN KOSES. 
 
 your name. I did not know you thought 
 yourself such a grand person." 
 
 " It is not that I stand on my dignity, Anne ; 
 though I must say I do not relish having pro- 
 mises made in my name without my know- 
 ledge," returned Veronica. " But it is, as I 
 said just now, a very serious matter to adopt a 
 child. It is taking upon oneself a great re- 
 sponsibility." 
 
 "You were ready enough to patronize that 
 miserable scarecrow of a cat," said Anne, look- 
 ing at the new-comer, which was purring on 
 the rug before the fire. "You would take in 
 a hippopotamus if it should come and purr at 
 you ; but you care nothing for a poor orphan 
 child." 
 
 " I should dearly love to hear a hippopota- 
 mus purr !" said Veronica, laughing. 
 
 " It is no laughing-matter," said Anne, in- 
 dignantly. "There I left poor Daisy with her 
 mind so relieved and settled; and now I must 
 go to-morrow and tell her that she must leave 
 the poor baby to charity, for you won't take 
 it, after all. I thought better of you, Vero- 
 nica; I did, indeed." 
 
 "You will please say nothing further in my 
 name, either one way or the other, until I give
 
 A HASTY PEOMISE. 17 
 
 you authority," said Veronica, decidedly. " If 
 poor Daisy is disappointed, the fault is yours, 
 not mine; for you had no right to make such 
 a promise. Moreover, I have not yet said that 
 I would not take the child. I must have time 
 to think, and to consult my husband. You 
 must see yourself that there is a great differ- 
 ence between taking in a stray kitten and 
 adopting a baby to bring up as one's own. 
 The kitten needs no care beyond food and 
 lodging and kind treatment ; but the child, if 
 it lives, requires not only food and clothing, but 
 discipline and education, both moral and men- 
 tal. It is an immortal being, to be trained for 
 immortality." 
 
 " But that is so much the more reason for its 
 having a good home, Veronica," remarked 
 Anne, in rather a subdued tone. 
 
 " True ; and it is also a reason why the 
 charge should not be undertaken lightly or 
 unadvisedly, but soberly, reverently, discreetly, 
 and in the fear of God. Moreover, it is a 
 thing which, once being done, cannot be un- 
 done. If my kitten is troublesome, I can 
 shut it out in the wood-house ; or, if worse 
 comes to worst, I can have it drowned. Even 
 if my mythical hippopotamus should become
 
 18 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 a burden, I could probably sell him to the 
 circus-people. But if I take a baby, I cannot 
 cast it off in that way. I must keep it how- 
 ever it turns out, whether it grows up healthy 
 and handsome or diseased and deformed, good 
 and dutiful or altogether the reverse." 
 >^ "You might send it to the orphan-asylum, 
 for that matter/' said Anne. 
 
 "Hardly, I think. If the child goes to the 
 asylum now, it will never remember any thing 
 different, and will look forward to any change 
 as an improvement; but to bring it up as your 
 own, petted and indulged as the only child is 
 sure to be, until it is old enough to think and 
 remember and make comparisons, and then 
 turn it over to a public charity, would be an 
 extreme of cruelty hardly to be justified under 
 any circumstances." 
 
 Anne fidgeted, and blushed a little. The 
 truth was that, in the little thought she had 
 bestowed upon the matter, she had finally 
 ended all with, "And, after all, if the child 
 turns out badly, I have only to send it to the-- 
 asylum at last, instead of at first." 
 
 She changed her ground a little. 
 
 " I suppose you think it would give you a 
 great deal of trouble?"
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. 19 
 
 "As to that, I am not apt to mind trouble, 
 and I am used to children, and like them. 
 No, I did not reckon the trouble; though a 
 child of that age nearly doubles the work of 
 a household like ours. But Becky does not 
 mind work, and she is fond of children. As 
 to the expense, I think we might afford it 
 well enough, since Mark has an increase of 
 income, and we are entirely out of debt." 
 
 "John told me that this new arrangement 
 would be a line thing for Mark," observed 
 Anne. " I am surprised to see you still at 
 work for Mrs. Kirkland. I hoped at least 
 you would give that up," she added, glancing 
 at her sister's work, a very delicate and beau- 
 tiful piece of knitting. 
 
 "As to that, I had long ago promised to iill 
 this particular order for Mrs. Kirkland, and I 
 did not think it would be fair to disappoint 
 her. But I do not see why I should give up 
 my fancy-work, Anne. It is a pretty and 
 pleasant occupation, and fills up many late 
 evening -hours when Mark must be away and 
 I can neither read nor sew. It makes, too, a 
 very nice little addition to my private purse. 
 No; I do not think I shall give it up just at 
 present."
 
 20 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "Well, you arc certainly two of the oddest 
 people, you and Mark ! But you have always 
 taken your own way, and I suppose you always 
 will," added Anne, in a tone of virtuous resigna- 
 tion: "so there is no use in talking about that. 
 I do wish, though, that you would make up 
 your inind about this baby. You put me in a 
 very painful position if you refuse; though I 
 suppose you will say it is my own fault. But 
 I did feel so sure. I thought you would snatch 
 at the chance." 
 
 "And so I should, my dear sister. If I were 
 to consult my own inclination alone, I should 
 say at once that I would take the child ; but it 
 is this very fact that makes me desirous to see 
 the thing upon all sides. Our house has been 
 very lonely the last year," said Veronica, her 
 eyes filling with tears as she looked at the little 
 chair which stood in the corner, "more lonely 
 than you could think, unless you had suffered 
 the same experience that we have. You have 
 never had any children in your house; and you 
 cannot imagine the vacancy " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Veronica," said Anne, 
 as her sister paused and busied herself with 
 her knitting. " I am sure you mean to do 
 what is right. Only, I am always in such a
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. "21 
 
 hurry to have things settled, and I felt so sorry 
 for Daisy, and this plan looks so plain and 
 easy. But when do you think you can de- 
 cide?" 
 
 "I will try to let you know to-morrow, or 
 the next day at farthest. And now tell me 
 more about poor Daisy. Does she seem com- 
 fortable ?" 
 
 ' As much so as she can be poor thing! in 
 the common ward of a hospital. The nurse 
 seemed very kind ; and Daisy told me herself 
 that she had every attention/' 
 
 " In the common ward !" repeated Veronica. 
 "Surely, Anne, her condition might be im- 
 proved in that respect. There are private 
 rooms at the hospital, I know; and she might 
 have one, if anybody would be answerable for 
 the expense. I think we might undertake that 
 between us for the little time she is likely to 
 live. It is only four or five dollars a week. 
 I cannot bear to think of the poor thing having 
 no privacy for herself or her children." 
 
 " To be sure it would be a great deal better. 
 I never thought of that," said Anne. "Of course 
 I will bear my share of the expense. The ward 
 is quiet enough, to be sure; but it is not like 
 having a room to oneself, after all."
 
 22 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " Does Daisy seem aware of her own con- 
 dition ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. She says she felt her doom was 
 sealed when she left New Orleans, and There ! 
 she wants very much to see a clergyman, and 
 I promised to send Dr. Courtlaud up to her 
 directly. I forgot all about it till this minute. 
 What shall I do?" 
 
 "Cannot you send Harry?" 
 
 " Harry has gone home, and John is at some 
 committee-meeting or other. It will have to 
 wait till morning." 
 
 "And she may die in the mean time," said 
 Veronica. "It is not late, Anne, and the 
 storm is over. Suppose you go round to the 
 doctor's with me? If he receives the message 
 to-night, he can take the next car and go up 
 at once. I am sure he will do so, under the 
 circumstances." 
 
 " Why, it is terribly snowy," said Anne, 
 hesitating, " and it makes my walk so much 
 the longer. I did tell Daisy I would send him 
 to-night; but I don't suppose it will make 
 much difference." 
 
 " For shame, Anne !" said Veronica, indig- 
 nantly. " Would you neglect the request of a 
 dying woman, and such a request? Daisy may
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. 23 
 
 die during the night, or she may be too far 
 gone to see the doctor in the morning." 
 
 " Oh, I will go. You need not put on that 
 injured air, Veronica, because I rather objected 
 to walking half a mile in the snow, after being 
 out all the afternoon. But you do love to make 
 out that all your fellow-creatures are miserable 
 sinners." 
 
 Veronica made no reply, knowing that the 
 beginning of strife, especially with Mrs. John 
 Campion, was like the letting out of water; and 
 the sisters-in-law were soon on their way to the 
 parsonage. The doctor had just come in from 
 a long walk, and, in the luxury of dressing- 
 gown, slippers, and a new book, was basking 
 in the light of a coal fire. He sighed deep 
 and long as he heard Aune's errand, and 
 looked first at the fire and then at his boots 
 and great-coat. 
 
 "I will gQ, of course," said he; "but I wish 
 I had heard of it before. I was making a visit 
 in that part of the town not an hour ago." 
 
 Anne felt a little conscience-stricken, but 
 she made no remark ; and the sisters presently 
 separated, and returned each to her own fire- 
 side. 
 
 Veronica put away her hood and shawl, and
 
 24 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 seated herself once more by her bright fire. 
 The room was not large, and was very simply 
 furnished, but there was an aspect of comfort 
 and elegance about it which is often wanting 
 in apartments of more pretensions. The fur- 
 niture was of chintz, which had evidently seen 
 some service, though it was whole and clean. 
 The paper was of a pretty sea-weed pattern in 
 pale buff, and made a good background for 
 the three or four good prints and the one 
 beautiful oil landscape, the pride of Mark 
 Campion's heart, which adorned the walls. 
 The corners were furnished with shelves, which 
 were filled nay, crowded with books, new 
 and old, with magazines and papers ; and on 
 two or three beautifully carved brackets were 
 placed plaster casts and an antique vase. These 
 brackets were the work of Mark's own hands, 
 the amusement of many a long winter's even- 
 ing, and had cost Anne a great de.al of wonder 
 as to how Veronica could endure to have such 
 a litter about her sitting-room. A basket work- 
 table stood near the chimney-corner, piled up 
 with the bright-coloured wools used by Vero- 
 nica in her fancy-work, another subject of 
 wonder to Anne, who thought if Veronica 
 must do such things she might at least keep
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. 25 
 
 them out of sight. Indeed, Anne was in the 
 habit of bestowing so much wonder, advice, 
 and reproof upon her sister-in-law and her 
 concerns that it is no matter of surprise that 
 Veronica sometimes became a little impatient, 
 and that Becky openly expressed the wish 
 that Mrs. John Campion would mind her own 
 business. 
 
 Voronica took her work once more ; but she 
 plied her needle slowly, and often let it fall 
 upon her lap, as she gazed thoughtfully at the 
 fire. At last she rose, and, taking a candle 
 from the mantel-piece, she lighted it and passed 
 into an adjoining bedroom. Taking a key 
 from her dressing-case, she opened a locked 
 drawer, and sat thoughtfully gazing into it. 
 The contents were not such as would have 
 seemed to a stranger worth locking up. There 
 were little, half-worn frocks and aprons, rows 
 of neatly-folded socks, two or three pairs of 
 little shoes, a broken doll, and some other play- 
 things. 
 
 Veronica leaned her head on the drawer 
 and wept bitterly for some moments. Then, 
 seemingly controlling herself by a great effort, 
 she dried her eyes, and proceeded to take out 
 one garment after another from the drawer,
 
 26 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 and look it over. Finally, as with a sudden 
 impulse, she laid them back, and locked them 
 up once more. 
 
 " I cannot do that," said she to herself. " I 
 would rather work my fingers off than see 
 another child wearing my Anne's clothes." 
 
 The sound of a latch-key in the front door 
 now announced an arrival, and, hastily re- 
 storing the key of the drawer to its place, she 
 smoothed her hair and went to meet her hus- 
 band. Mr. Mark Campion was a tall, strongly- 
 made person, light-haired and yellow-bearded, 
 with a pair of bright, dancing blue eyes, and a 
 wonderfully guileless childlike expression for 
 a grown man. He lifted his little wife from 
 the ground, and gave her as hearty a kiss as if 
 they had been separated for months instead 
 of for hours. 
 
 "Tired, little woman?" he asked, tenderly. 
 " You have had a long evening here alone. I 
 thought I should never get away. Such a lot 
 of people coming and bothering ! and last of all, 
 just as I thought myself released, comes little 
 Wicks, in a towering rage about the mis- 
 prints in his last article. However, I made 
 short work of him: sent him home to get 
 sober."
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. 27 
 
 "Is he drinking again?" asked Veronica. 
 
 " Very badly, I should say. He won't last 
 long, at that rate. I pity his poor family ; for 
 he is a devil under the influence of brandy, 
 though amiable enough at other times. But 
 what has troubled my little woman ?" added 
 Mark, gently. " Now, there is no use in any 
 denials. These eyes witness against you." 
 
 " Nothing, at least, nothing new," said Ve- 
 ronica : " I had occasion to look into Anne's 
 drawer," she added, in a lower tone. Her hus- 
 band only answered by another kiss and a 
 closer caress. Mr. Mark Campion, though he 
 usually talked a great deal, was a man who 
 knew when to be silent. 
 
 " But you have had no supper, and not 
 much dinner," said Veronica, presently, rousing 
 herself. "You must be very hungry. Becky," 
 she added, as that discreet damsel opened the 
 door, " Mr. Campion has had no supper." 
 
 " Well, I know that," returned Becky, who 
 generally resented as an imputation any at- 
 tempt to give her information respecting house- 
 hold matters. " I knew he would come home 
 hungry as a bear; and so I just warmed up the 
 stew that was left, and made some cocoa. 
 You won't be the worse for a cup yourself, Mrs.
 
 28 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 Mark, after tramping about in the cold and 
 snow." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you have been out 
 in this storm?" said Mark. "What possessed 
 you ?" 
 
 " I have not been far. I will tell you all 
 about it presently," replied Veronica. " Come, 
 wash your hands, and eat your supper while 
 it's hot." 
 
 "Here is an encouragement to dissipation, 
 now," said Mark, seating himself before the in- 
 viting tray which Becky brought in. "Such a 
 supper is enough to tempt a man to stay out till 
 eleven o'clock every night of his life." 
 
 "Ah, but you are not to suppose that you 
 will have such a supper every night," said 
 Veronica, as she poured out his cocoa. "Be- 
 sides, don't you know Dr. Woodman says 
 people who eat suppers invariably go to de- 
 struction ?" 
 
 "He should make a special exception in 
 favour of proof-readers, sub-editors, and literary 
 hacks in general," remarked Mark, making a 
 vigorous attack upon the provisions before him. 
 
 "Ah, it is all very well for you to call your- 
 self a literary hack," sa"id Veronica, laughing. 
 " It would not do for anybody else."
 
 A HASTY PEOMISE. 29 
 
 "Very likely, my dear. We call ourselves 
 miserable sinners every day, but we don't like 
 other people to call us so." 
 
 " Well, and there is some reason in it, too," 
 remarked Veronica. "One does not like med- 
 dling. I see a good many faults in my own 
 household management every day, but I don't 
 like to have Anne looking into my pantry and 
 telling me I ought to be ashamed to keep my 
 sitting-room in such a litter." 
 
 " You don't seem to mind it at all when 
 my mother gives you hints about housekeep- 
 ing," said Mark. " I saw you listening and 
 looking as if she had been an oracle, while she 
 was showing you how to cook that bit of 
 venison you were going to throw away as 
 useless." 
 
 "That is quite another matter. Your 
 mother has every right to advise, and she 
 always does so in a gentle and ladylike way. 
 I never saw any one more delicate about in- 
 terference than she is. I only wish she had 
 stayed over till to-day." 
 
 "Why, what new emergency has come up? 
 Has Zuzu got the apoplexy from over-feeding, 
 or are you thinking of taking a cat upon 
 trial?"
 
 30 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "Something a great deal more serious than 
 either," replied Veronica. " Something I wish 
 to talk over with you when you have finished 
 your supper. As for Zu's apoplexy, I think 
 it would be, as Becky's mother said about the 
 gosling, a happy release; and as to the cat, it 
 has taken me, as you see/' she added, pointing 
 to the little purring heap upon the hearth- 
 rug. " But this is really a grave matter, 
 something which, once being done, cannot be 
 undone." 
 
 Mark saw that his wife was in earnest, and, 
 settling himself in his favourite arm-chair and 
 taking the cat on his knee, he proceeded to 
 give his undivided attention while Veronica 
 related her conversation with her sister-in-law 
 and the events which gave rise to it. When 
 she had finished, she looked anxiously at her 
 husband for his opinion, which he did not 
 seem in a hurry to give. He sat for some 
 time smoothing the kitten's fur and looking 
 thoughtfully at the fire. At last he said, 
 
 "I wonder whether any woman in the world 
 but Anne would have done such a thing. I 
 wonder if she even thought of consulting John 
 before she promised to take the child herself." 
 
 " I dare say not," replied Veronica. " It
 
 A HASTY PEOMISE. 31 
 
 would have been only a form, at any rate ; for 
 he never contradicts her in any fancy." 
 
 "Still, the observance of forms sometimes 
 saves a good deal of trouble," returned Mark; 
 " and even John now and then rebels. She 
 would be in a pretty predicament if he should 
 refuse to take the child, after all. But wo 
 know Anne and her ways too well to be sur- 
 prised at any eccentricities of hers. So we 
 will put her out of the question." He sat silent 
 a while longer, and seemed in danger of drift- 
 ing into one of his customary brown studies, 
 when a small scratch from the kitten aroused 
 him. 
 
 " Weil," said he, " it is a serious matter, as 
 you say. What do you think about it?" 
 
 " I should like it very much, if you see no 
 objection," said Veronica, simply and gravely, 
 but with a flush upon her cheeks and a suf- 
 fusion of her gray eyes which showed how near 
 the subject was to her heart. 
 
 Mark looked earnestly at her. 
 
 " You are sure you would like it ?" 
 
 " Quite sure." 
 
 " A child of that age would make you a 
 good deal of trouble and anxiety. Are the 
 children healthy?"
 
 32 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "So Anne says no, I do not think she 
 said any thing about that, directly. She said 
 they were rosy and pretty." 
 
 "Then I dare say they are healthy as 
 well." 
 
 "And, if they are not, they have so much 
 the more need of care," said Veronica. 
 
 "True, little wife; but it is your health I 
 must think of." 
 
 " But you know I am very strong, Mark. 
 I believe I have gone over all the objections 
 in my own mind a dozen times," continued 
 Veronica. " I am so afraid of being misled 
 by my inclinations." 
 
 "Well, what are the objections?" asked 
 Mark. " Let us have them in detail." 
 
 "First, there is the expense." 
 
 " That need be no great matter for some 
 years to come," said Mark; "and meantime we 
 are growing more and more able to meet it. 
 I do not suppose we shall have any thing to 
 leave her ; but we must give her a thoroughly 
 good education, and thus enable her to main- 
 tain herself if it should become necessary. 
 Well, what next?" 
 
 "Then, there is the responsibility, Mark." 
 
 "True; and that is, no doubt, very great.
 
 A HASTY PROMISE. oo 
 
 But it would be no more for this little one 
 than for a child of our own ; and if we find it 
 too much for our strength, we must cast our 
 burden upon Him who has promised to help 
 the heavy-laden. We must remember, Vero- 
 nica, that we cannot make the child, and we 
 are not expected to do so. All we have in 
 our power is to act according to our best light, 
 both for its bodily and spiritual welfare, and 
 leave the rest to God." 
 
 "Then, you know, Mark, if we take the 
 child, we must keep it always, however it 
 turns out. It may be sickly, or ill-disposed, 
 crooked in mind or body; and yet, having once 
 adopted it, we cannot cast it off." 
 
 " Of that we must take our chance with any 
 child, as much with our own as with a 
 stranger's. But we will pray upon it and 
 sleep upon it, my dear, and then decide ; 
 though, honestly, I believe we have in our own 
 minds decided already." 
 
 Veronica smiled. She thought so too. 
 
 "It will make the house very lively again," 
 continued Mark, in a musing tone. " I fear 
 you have found it desolate enough for the Last 
 few months, Veronica, with only me for coin- 
 puny." 
 c
 
 34 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 "Arc you not better to me than ten sons?" 
 said Veronica. Her husband looked at her 
 with something shining very brightly in his 
 blue eyes; but he did not make her any an- 
 swer in words.
 
 THE BABIES. 35 
 
 CHAPTER II. ( 
 
 THE BABIES. 
 
 ERONICA rose early the next 
 morning, and before her husband 
 made his appearance she had 
 dusted the sitting-room, arranged 
 Mark's desk and books, which were 
 apt to fall into dire confusion, and 
 held a consultation with Becky upon 
 various household matters. Becky was 
 a strong-armed, somewhat hard-featured wo- 
 man, who might have been of any age from 
 thirty to fifty. She had been taken from the 
 poor-house as a " bound-girl" by Mark Cam- 
 pion's mother, and had remained in the family 
 many years. When Mrs. Campion gave up 
 housekeeping on Mark's marriage, Becky came 
 to live with Veronica, and had stayed with 
 her ever since, the only servant through some 
 years of hard toil and trial. She was an ex- 
 cellent cook and laundress, perfectly faithful,
 
 36 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 active, trustworthy, and, in spite of a somewhat 
 crabbed manner, singularly even-tempered. 
 When Mrs. John Campion married, she was 
 anxious to secure Becky's services; and, not 
 having been brought up with any strict ideas 
 of her duty towards her neighbour, she ottered 
 Becky nearly double wages and a great increase 
 of dignity if she would accept the post of 
 housekeeper. Becky, however, treated with 
 the utmost scorn the notion that she should 
 "better herself" in any such way. 
 
 " Live with Anne Holley, indeed," she said 
 to Mrs. Campion. "I'd as soon live with a 
 whole nest of squirrels ! Keep house, indeed ! 
 It would be a large house that would keep her 
 and me at the same time. If Mr. John is 
 going to make a fool of himself, Ja'ii't." 
 
 "You should not speak so of my son's wife, 
 llebecca," said Mrs. Campion. "Mr. John has 
 a right to please himself." 
 
 "And I've got a right to please myself," 
 returned Becky; and there the matter ended. 
 
 Anne Campion was not possessed of much 
 delicacy, and she was firmly persuaded in her 
 own mind of her infinite superiority to Vero- 
 nica, especially in all matters of housekeeping. 
 Veronica, she argued, was a literary woman:
 
 THE BABIES. 37 
 
 literary women never made good housekeepers : 
 ergo, Veronica was not a good housekeeper. 
 Consequently, she had not the slightest hesita- 
 tion in advising, criticizing, and even reproving 
 her elder sister-in-law. Her comments always 
 roused Becky's ire to the utmost, and she 
 never failed to express her opinions on such 
 occasions; and there was a sort of guerilla 
 warfare kept up between them, which was 
 sometimes amusing and sometimes rather an- 
 noying. It was enough that any project origin- 
 ated with Mrs. John to set Becky against it; 
 and Veronica saw that this circumstance might 
 be a difficulty in the way of Becky's taking 
 kindly to the baby. She therefore, in un- 
 folding her plan, wisely kept Mrs. John in the 
 background. Becky loved children dearly, 
 and she had mourned deeply for the two little 
 ones who had been removed. She approved 
 of the plan at once, and cheerfully promised 
 to take her share of the trouble entailed by 
 tiie new baby. 
 
 " It will seem very nice to have a little one 
 about the house once more/' said she. "And 
 who is to take the other, poor little dear?" 
 
 " Mrs. John means to take the other her- 
 self/' replied Veronica.
 
 38 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "Mrs. John!" exclaimed Becky, in a tone 
 which spoke volumes. 
 
 " Yes," replied Veronica. " It was she who 
 proposed the plan in the first place. She found 
 poor Mrs. Brush at the hospital, and came im- 
 mediately to tell me." 
 
 "Oh, it is all right, I dare say," said Becky, 
 beginning to chop energetically. "Only I 
 pity the poor child: that's all." 
 
 " Becky, you are prejudiced against Mrs. 
 John," said Veronica, gravely. " Nothing that 
 she could do would be right in your eyes. I 
 do not think you ought to allow yourself to 
 be governed by such feelings." 
 
 "She is so aggravating," said Becky, "al- 
 ways interfering, and directing folks old enough 
 to be her mother. When I was young, folks 
 were taught not to reprove their elders. And, 
 after all," she continued, "there does not seem 
 to be much comfort in bringing up other folks' 
 children. Look at poor old Miss Brown. No- 
 body could do more for an own child than she 
 did for Martha James. She denied herself 
 decent clothes and food that the child might 
 have all she wanted, might go to a good 
 school, and dress like other girls. She worked 
 for her night and day, and indulged her in
 
 THE BABIES. 39 
 
 every thing ; and see what has come of it. 
 Some people say that adopted children always 
 turn out badly." 
 
 "I do not think spoiled children arc apt to 
 be grateful to those who spoil them, under any 
 circumstances," said Veronica, suppressing a 
 smile at the sudden change which had come 
 over Becky's sentiments at the mention of Mrs. 
 John. "I think Miss Brown made a great 
 mistake in putting all her property into the 
 hands of Martha and her husband, thus ren- 
 dering herself dependent upon them." 
 
 " That doesn't excuse them for treating her 
 so," said Becky, shortly. " It only makes 
 them worse." 
 
 "Nothing can excuse such conduct as theirs," 
 said Veronica. "But, Becky, I can think of 
 another instance where a poor child was taken 
 into a family, in which she remained more than 
 thirty years, repaying ten times over, by her 
 faithful friendship and her unwearied services, 
 all that had been done for her." 
 
 " Do you mean me ?" asked Becky. " Bless 
 you, my dear, I haven't done any thing, only 
 earned my wages. I do think I have done 
 that." 
 
 " You have done a great deal more than
 
 40 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 that, Becky. No mere servant could have 
 helped me through my seasons of severe trial 
 as you did. It seems to me that I could never 
 have lived through Anne's last sickness without 
 you." 
 
 " Now, don't, Mrs. Mark," said Becky j " as 
 if I wouldn't have laid down my life for either 
 of them sweet lambs any minute, to say nothing 
 of you and Mr. Mark. Besides, didn't you 
 nurse me with my broken leg as though I had 
 been your own sister, scrimping yourselves 
 every way to buy nice things for me, and keep 
 a fire for me in the best room in the house? 
 To be sure, Mrs. John came and sat up with 
 me too," said Becky, relenting a little, "and 
 took real good care of me : only she was sure 
 to wake me up every time I dropped asleep, 
 and kept up such a creaking and rustling and 
 rattling that she nearly drove me cra/y. But 
 then she meant well, poor thing! and if folks 
 haven't got sense they haven't, and that is all 
 about it. The apostle tells some people that 
 they suffered fools gladly, seeing they them- 
 selves were wise; but I do think it takes a 
 sight of wisdom to suffer some folks. And so 
 she is going to take a child to bring up? Well, 
 well !"
 
 THE BABIES. 41 
 
 " I do not know what would become of the 
 other baby if she did not take it," said Vero- 
 nica. "I could hardly undertake two; and 
 there are no family friends. I think she will 
 be very kind. My only fear is lest she should 
 be too kind." 
 
 " That's the way it will end, I expect/' said 
 Becky. " She will spoil the child till there is 
 no living with it, and then turn it over to 
 you. However, I won't borrow trouble about 
 that. I wonder if the little dears have got 
 any clothes?" 
 
 " I dare say they are not very well provided 
 with them. The mother has been very poor 
 ever since they were born ; and, besides, coming 
 as they do from New Orleans, they will not 
 be likely to have any thing warm enough for 
 this climate. I shall find out all about that 
 to-day." 
 
 " There are those clothes of Anne's," said 
 Becky, with some hesitation. "If you thought 
 of using them, I might get them out and look 
 them over." 
 
 " I do not feel as though I could use those 
 things, Becky. It may be weak in me, but I 
 don't think I could bear to see another chrld 
 weariny; those frocks."
 
 42 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " I suppose you have as much right to have 
 feelings as other folks/' said Becky. 
 
 "But there is that pretty blue merino Mrs. 
 Campion gave me/' continued Veronica. " If 
 you have time to-day, I should like to have 
 you rip it and press it out. I think I can 
 make a couple of pretty frocks and a nice little 
 cloak from the skirt." 
 
 "Of course I -shall have time," replied 
 Becky. " I haven't any thing to do, after I 
 have washed my dishes and baked my pies and 
 swept and dusted the parlour. And I guess, 
 too, I had better set up some little woollen 
 stockings. My knitting is all done, and Mr. 
 Mark doesn't want any more socks just 
 now." 
 
 " Very well : you \vi\\ find some nice red 
 and white yarn in the bottom of my basket." 
 
 " I calculate to buy the yarn myself," said 
 Becky, shortly. " If I choose to spend some 
 of my own money on the child, I don't see 
 why you need object, Mr*. Mark." 
 
 " Certainly not, Becky : please yourself," re- 
 plied Veronica, smiling, and perceiving that 
 the baby's place was already secured in Becky's 
 heart. " But now we will have prayers. I 
 hear Mr. Mark in the dining-room."
 
 THE BABIES. 43 
 
 " What are you going to do to-day, Vero- 
 nica ?" asked Mark at the breakfast- table. 
 
 " I am going up to the hospital, to see poor 
 Daisy and settle with the Sisters about letting 
 her have a private room. I do not like to 
 think of her being in the common ward, with 
 all sorts of people. Anne has agreed to bear 
 half the expense; for "of course it will cost 
 something." 
 
 "As she did of Julia Green's rent, eh ?" 
 
 " Now, Mark, you need not bring that up. 
 You know John paid Anne's share long ago. 
 But this will be no more than a trifle in any 
 case; for they say Daisy can only live a few 
 days at the outside." 
 
 "You might bring her home with you," 
 said Mark. " The front bedroom is warmed, 
 at any rate; and Becky would enjoy having 
 her to nurse." 
 
 " I do not suppose she can be moved so far. 
 But are you sure you would be willing to take 
 such a burden, Mark ?" 
 
 " Why, as to that, it is no more than I 
 should like to have some good Christian to 
 do for you under like circumstances," replied 
 Mark. "But act according to your own judg- 
 ment, my dear. You are sure to be right."
 
 44 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 And Mark really meant what he said; for, a 
 dreamy, meditative sort of man himself, he had 
 unbounded faith in his wife's practical wisdom, 
 
 Veronica soon despatched her household 
 affairs, indeed, Becky left her very little to 
 do in that line, and then proceeded to the 
 hospital. Anne had agreed to meet her at half- 
 past ten ; but, when she arrived, no Anne had 
 made her appearance. Veronica was not sorry. 
 She wanted an opportunity for some private 
 conversation with the hospital authorities and 
 with Daisy herself. Daisy had had a restless 
 night, and was somewhat weaker in conse- 
 quence, the Sister said, but still she was com- 
 fortable, and it would do her no harm to talk 
 a little, if she were not excited. 
 
 "Your friend means kindly," said she, "but 
 she should learn to control herself if she 
 means to visit sick people. Tears of sympathy 
 are all very well in books, my dear; but it will 
 never do to bestow them too freely upon people 
 who are subject to coughing-fits." 
 
 " Was she able to see Dr. Courtland ?" asked 
 Veronica. 
 
 "Yes; and she seemed to enjoy his visit. 
 She behaves wonderfully well poor child! 
 all things considered."
 
 THE BABIES. 45 
 
 Veronica mentioned Mark's wish that Daisy 
 should be removed to their own house; but 
 the Sister shook her head decidedly. 
 
 " It will never do. She would most likely 
 die on the road. I am not sure it would 
 answer even to remove her from one room to 
 another." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that," said Veronica. 
 " I hoped we might at least secure a private 
 room for her." 
 
 The Sister considered. "It will be a risk," 
 she repeated. " Still, if the room were all 
 
 ready and well warmed beforehand Well, 
 
 my dear, go in and see your friend, and I will 
 talk to the doctor about the matter. If he 
 consents, I will have the room all prepared be- 
 fore \ve say any thing to her about it. Then 
 we can have her carried down at once, and she 
 will have no time to get flurried." 
 
 "How much there is in knowing how!" 
 thought Veronica, as she followed the Sister 
 up the stairs and through the long, clean ly- 
 scTiibbed passage. " Not one person in ten 
 would ever have thought of that." 
 
 She found poor Daisy half sitting up, sup- 
 ported in her little bed by piles of pillows, at 
 one end of the large ward, in which there were
 
 46 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 only two or three other patients. Her skin 
 was white as paper, though she had a round, 
 red spot upon one cheek, and her large hazel 
 eyes looked unnaturally clear and bright. The 
 two babies were sitting on a coverlet placed 
 upon the floor, one peacefully sucking its 
 thumb, the other playing with an extempore 
 doll. They were very pretty children, not in 
 the least alike, one being dark with black 
 eyes, and the other inheriting her poor mother's 
 chestnut hair and transparent complexion. 
 
 Daisy recognized her friend directly, and 
 held out her hand to her with a sweet smile. 
 Veronica found it hard to follow the Sister's 
 direction and preserve her calmness as she 
 looked at her old school-mate. 
 
 "You are not in the least changed, Vero- 
 nica/' said she, regarding her fondly, after she 
 was seated by the bedside. " I should have 
 known you anywhere. You can hardly say 
 as much for me, I suppose?" 
 
 "Your hair is gray, and that makes a dif- 
 ference," replied Veronica, "and your expres- 
 sion is a good deal changed, but still your 
 smile is the same. You were a giddy little 
 thing when I knew you, Daisy. Do you re- 
 member how I used to shut you into your
 
 THE BABIES. 47 
 
 room before I rang the study-bell, that I 
 might not have to mark you for being out of 
 place ?" 
 
 " I remember how you used to help me Avith 
 my lesson? when no one else had the patience," 
 replied Daisy; "only you would make me find 
 the words and do the sums myself, and pin 
 me down till I accomplished my task, in- 
 stead of doing every thing for me. You 
 were always one of the grave, practical pupils, 
 Veronica." 
 
 "I was made so by circumstances," replied 
 Veronica. " My cares came eai'ly upon me. 
 I was five years older than you, too; and that 
 makes all the difference at our ages." 
 
 "And I am young still : I am only twenty- 
 five," said Daisy, sighing. " Yet it seems as 
 if I had had a long life already. If it were 
 not for my poor babies, I should not desire to 
 live any longer. But it seems hard to go and 
 leave them to strangers !" 
 
 "You must not think you arc leaving them 
 to strangers, my child," observed the Sister, 
 overhearing the remark. " In any event, you 
 leave them to God ; and surely He is no 
 stranger." 
 
 "It was partly about ill" children that I
 
 48 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 came to see you," said Veronica, when they 
 were left to themselves. "You know I have 
 no little ones left of my own, and Mark and 
 I both thought we should like to take one of 
 the babies and bring it up as our child. We 
 are not rich, and probably never shall be; 
 but we have a comfortable home, and are able 
 to give the little one a, good education, which, 
 after all, is the best inheritance in this country. 
 We will bring it up, as far as we are able, 
 in the fear of God and the knowledge of His 
 word. I cannot say more ; but that much 
 I may safely promise, both for Mark and 
 myself." 
 
 Daisy drew a long breath, and leaned back 
 on her pillows with a look of intense relief. 
 
 " I am deeply thankful, Veronica. I do 
 trust you entirely. Anne said you would take 
 the child ; but I did not know. I did not dare 
 to build upon it. I remembered Anne's old 
 headlong way of making promises, and I could 
 see that she was not much changed. The Sisters 
 would have taken Rosy into their asylum. 
 They have been very good to me, and I hope 
 I am grateful ; but I did not like to think of 
 my Rosy growing up a Roman Catholic. You 
 know, after all, if we think we are right we
 
 THE BABIES. 49 
 
 must think they are wrong," said Daisy, ap- 
 peal ingly. 
 
 "Of course," replied Veronica. "We may 
 reverence and love what is good and praise- 
 worthy in people ; but that does not make it 
 necessary for us to adopt their errors. If an 
 Arab should succour me with water in the de- 
 sert, I should be deeply grateful to him ; but I 
 should not feel that I was obliged to believe 
 in Mohammed on that account. Which of the 
 children is Rosy?" 
 
 " The fair one. The other is Kitty, named 
 for Mr. Brush's mother and sister." 
 
 " And you would prefer to have me take 
 Rosy?" 
 
 " Why, yes, I think so. You see, Veronica, 
 she is like me, and I am afraid she inherits 
 my own and my mother's constitution; and 
 you are used to nursing. Besides, I know 
 Anne likes Kitty best. She thinks the child 
 is like her family." 
 
 "Say no more, my dear Daisy: I will gladly 
 take Rosy. Indeed, I think Mark would 
 prefer her, if he allowed himself to have any 
 choice. He has an artist's admiration for 
 chestnut hair." 
 
 "I am very thankful," said Daisy, with a
 
 50 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 smile which was radiant with peace and satis- 
 faction. "My precious babies will have good 
 homes and kind friends when I am gone. 
 God has been very good to me. I am sure 
 He will take care of them." She lay with 
 closed eyes and clasped hands for a few mo- 
 ments, and then, suddenly rousing herself, she 
 spoke with energy : 
 
 "Veronica, promise me one thing. Promise 
 me, sacredly, that, whatever happens, my 
 daughters shall never be turned over to Adela 
 Brush. Send them to the asylum, bind them 
 out to service in honest families, any thing 
 that is decent ; but never, never put them 
 into the power of that woman ! Promise me, 
 Veronica." 
 
 " I promise you that, so far as it is in my 
 power to prevent it, she shall never have 
 any thing to do with them," said Veronica. 
 " Don't excite yourself, Daisy. But, my dear 
 child," she added, with some hesitation, "what- 
 ever Adda has done, you must try to forgive 
 her from your heart." 
 
 " I have tried, and I hope I have done so," 
 said Daisy. "But you don't know what I 
 have suffered. I never would have believed 
 that any one could treat a sick person as she
 
 THE BABIES. 51 
 
 treated me. Such cold, deliberate, constant 
 un kindness, shown in such mean little ways! 
 For one instance: a lady gave me one of those 
 books of texts, to hang upon the wall, you 
 know: I forget the name." 
 
 " The Silent Comforter," said Veronica. 
 
 " Yes. Well, I hung it at the foot of my 
 bed, and turned over the leaves, or got one of 
 the servants to turn over the leaves, every 
 day; and it was a comforter, about the only 
 one I had in that house, except the poor 
 coloured woman who waited on me. Well, 
 one day Adela wanted a bit of paper to light 
 the gas, and she deliberately tore one of the 
 leaves out and used it, and then threw it into 
 the fire. That is a specimen of her daily con- 
 duct. Then, if I complained of any thing, she 
 taunted me with my ingratitude and depend- 
 ence, and told me I had better go to the hos- 
 pital. T am sure I would have gone in a 
 minute, if I could. She used to tell me, over 
 and over, that my husband's death was all 
 owing to me, 'that it was caused by my light 
 conduct with gentlemen, and that my extrava- 
 gance ruined him, when we had not a cent 
 which was not mine. Mr. Brush was not 
 what he should have been, but he was kind to
 
 52 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 me, and I loved him dearly. He was sensible 
 in his last hours, and prayed earnestly for for- 
 giveness. That is my great comfort in think- 
 ing about him." 
 
 " It is the greatest comfort/' said Veronica. 
 "'The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all 
 sin;' and, 'To-day shalt thou be with me in 
 paradise/ was spoken to one who repented at 
 the eleventh hour. Yet those run a fearful 
 risk who put off repentance and prayer to a 
 death-bed." 
 
 " It was Adela who made the match," con- 
 tinued Daisy. "The affair began in school. 
 He used to send me letters and presents by 
 Adela, and I thought it a fine thing to have a 
 secret and a lover, though I did not care a 
 pin for him at that time. Then, before I knew 
 it, I was entangled in an engagement, and 
 Adela threatened all sorts of things if I broke 
 it off. She said I was entirely in her power; 
 and I believed her. But I loved Mr. Brush 
 afterwards. He was wild, and had no princi- 
 ple, they were never brought up to have any, 
 but he was very kind to me, whatever he 
 might have been out of my sight. I remem- 
 ber well that last morning. He went out before 
 I was up, and he came back and kissed me
 
 THE BABIES. 53 
 
 twice. I wondered what was the matter; but 
 I never guessed, never thought of any harm, 
 till they brought him in wounded." 
 
 " You are tiring yourself, Daisy," said Ve- 
 ronica. " Do not talk any more now." 
 
 " It does me good," said Daisy. " It is 
 such a long, long time since I have had a 
 friend to talk to !" 
 
 " What was the cause of the duel ?" Vero- 
 nica ventured to ask. 
 
 " Some gambling business. They quarrelled 
 over cards, and struck one another, and after 
 that there was nothing for it, according to their 
 notions, but to fight. It was not what Adela 
 said : I was foolish enough in many ways, 
 but not in that. They don't think so much 
 of human life there as we do here; but the 
 affair made a great noise, and Mr. Brush was 
 much blamed. Whatever his faults were, he 
 repented seriously and sincerely, if ever any 
 man did. He saw at that time how he had 
 wasted his life and his talents. I think if he 
 had lived he would have been very different ; 
 but it was not to be. He lingered some days, 
 in great suffering both of body and mind ; but 
 he had peace at the last, and died with a prayer 
 on his lips. After all, Veronica, it was drink-
 
 54 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 ing that did the mischief, that, and the com- 
 pany to which it led. Oh, how many young 
 men I saw go to utter destruction in the few 
 years I lived in New Orleans! 
 
 " Mr. Brush knew his own danger, and often 
 declared that he would never touch another 
 drop; but he was always led away. If there 
 were no one else to do it, Adela herself would 
 lend a hand to the work, and laugh and sneer 
 at him till he would take a glass just to get 
 rid of her; and then, of course, all was over." 
 
 " I should think it incredible that a woman 
 could act such a part, if I had not myself 
 known such an instance," observed Veronica. 
 " In this case it was a w r ife who led away her 
 husband." 
 
 " It was more to torment me than any thing 
 else, I do believe," continued Daisy. " She 
 seemed to conceive an utter hatred to me as 
 soon as I was married. But that is her nature. 
 She can no more help it, apparently, than a 
 kitten can help teasing a mouse. She drives 
 her servants almost mad; and I should not 
 wonder if there were a fearful tragedy acted in 
 the house some day. I am deeply thankful 
 that my children are not left in her power." 
 
 " I would not think of her more than I
 
 TIIK BABIES. 05 
 
 could help, Daisy," said Veronica. "The more 
 one dwells on such things, especially when one 
 is weak, the worse" they appear; one is tempted 
 to act all the scenes over again, with variations 
 and additions, till they are worse in the imagi- 
 nation than they were in the reality." 
 
 " They could not well be much worse," re- 
 plied Daisy, shaking her head. "But you are 
 right, Veronica. It is not good to dwell on 
 them. I would rather think of the kindness I 
 have received. A great many people were very 
 good to me after I left Adela, Mr. Fowler 
 especially. He was the clergyman who found 
 me a place to sing in church. Oh, Veronica, 
 what a comfort it was to me ! The first Sun- 
 day or two I did not enjoy the service very 
 much. I had a feeling of responsibility and 
 anxiety lest something should go wrong ; but 
 after that I used to look forward to Sunday 
 as to a haven of rest. I could always forget 
 my troubles when I was singing. My heart 
 used to go up with the music. They said after- 
 wards that singing was bad for me; but I know 
 better. It kept me alive for a long time." 
 
 The attending Sister now appeared, to say 
 that the room was ready; and Daisy, well 
 wrapped up, was carefully lifted from the bed
 
 56 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 to an arm-chair, and transported thither with 
 very little trouble. She bore the exertion 
 better than had been expected, but seemed so 
 tired when finally settled that Veronica thought 
 it best to leave her. Having kissed her little 
 nursling, and secured one of her frocks for a 
 pattern, she went down-stairs, meeting Anne 
 in the hall. 
 
 "Why, Veronica!" she exclaimed. "How 
 long have you been here?" 
 
 "Since half-past ten. What has kept you 
 so long ?" 
 
 "Long! Why, it is only a quarter to one. 
 I promised to be here at half-past twelve: 
 didn't I ?" 
 
 "Half-past ten, I understood. Don't you 
 remember my saying that I should have to get 
 up early to finish my work for Mrs. Kirk- 
 land?" 
 
 "Did you? Are you sure? I thought it 
 was half-past twelve; but I don't imagine it 
 makes much difference. I suppose I can go 
 up and see Daisy directly?" 
 
 " I don't think I would go just now," said 
 Veronica, detaining her. " Daisy has been 
 talking a great deal, for her, and she has just 
 been moved to her new room. The nurse has
 
 THE BABIES. 57 
 
 taken the babies out, and Daisy has composed 
 herself to sleep. It will be better not to dis- 
 turb her." 
 
 Anne looked vexed and disappointed. " I 
 don't see what I am to do," said she. " I 
 wanted to see her so very much. I thought I 
 might take the child home to-day. I do so 
 long to have her all to myself." 
 
 " I do not think Daisy would be willing," 
 said her sister-in-law. "She seems to cling to 
 them so closely, it would be cruelty to take 
 them away till the last minute. She tells me 
 that you have decided to take Kitty." 
 
 " Why, yes, I believe so. She looks more 
 like me. All our family have black hair. I 
 suppose it makes very little difference to 
 you ?" 
 
 " Very little," said Veronica, smiling. " In- 
 deed, I think I should have chosen Rosy at 
 any rate." 
 
 " Should you ?" asked Anne. " Why?" 
 
 " Principally because Mark prefers light 
 hair." 
 
 " To be sure, chestnut hair is more un- 
 common. I don't know but I should like it 
 better myself," said Anne, considering. " But 
 then Kitty has such rosy cheeks, and she looks
 
 58 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 stronger than her sister. I am sure I don't 
 know what to say." 
 
 " I understood you had decided already," 
 said Veronica. "But, if there is any question 
 about the matter, Daisy's wishes ought to settle 
 it; and she seemed particularly desirous that I 
 should take Rosy. She thinks there may be 
 danger of the child turning out delicate." 
 
 " Oh, if she is going to be sickly, I am sure 
 I do not want her. Only, I think it is very 
 ungrateful in Daisy to show such a distrust of 
 rne, when I was the first to propose taking the 
 children at all. It does not look very well, I 
 must say." 
 
 " I don't think it was any distrust on Daisy's 
 part, Anne. It was only that she knew I had 
 had more experience with children than your- 
 self." 
 
 " Oh, well, it doesn't matter. It is the way 
 of the world, anyhow. But what have you 
 there?" 
 
 " One of Rosy's frocks. I must have some 
 warm clothes made for her. I am sure she is 
 not warmly enough dressed for this climate." 
 
 "I shall keep Kitty in white till she is three 
 years old," said Anne, with decision. "Every- 
 body does so."
 
 THE BABIES. 59 
 
 " Everybody must have more time for sew- 
 ing, washing, and ironing than we have at our 
 house," said Veronica. "^ child of that age 
 will need three or four white frocks a week to 
 keep her decent. But I must not stay to dis- 
 cuss the subject now. What did John say to 
 your plan ?" 
 
 "Oh, he consented easily enough: only he 
 said, You must remember, Anne, it won't do 
 to get tired of a live plaything and throw 
 it away as you do a dead one.' I don't see 
 why he should say so, I'm sure: only he likes 
 to make remarks of that kind. What did 
 Mark say?" 
 
 "He was very much pleased, as I foresaw 
 he would be. He wanted to bring Daisy 
 home at once to our own house; but the Sister 
 says it will not do to move her." 
 
 " And you think it will not answer for me 
 to take Kitty home to-day? However, per- 
 haps it is just as well, for I Avant to furnish my 
 nursery. Well, there is no use in my staying, 
 if I cannot see Daisy. Shall I take you 
 home?" 
 
 " No, thank you. I am going to walk part 
 of the way, and make a call. Good-by." 
 
 On their way out, the sisters-in-law met
 
 60 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 the nurse, with the two babies in her arras. 
 It chanced that Rosy was crying and had a 
 red nose, while Kitty was laughing merrily, 
 a circumstance which quite satisfied Mrs. 
 John with her first choice.
 
 THE ROSE TRANSPLANTED. 
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ROSE TRANSPLANTED. 
 
 to every one's ex- 
 pectation, Daisy lingered on for 
 nearly two weeks longer. As her 
 strength decayed, she suffered less, 
 and had many days of comparative 
 comfort. Veronica visited her fre- 
 quently, spending many hours by her 
 bedside, sometimes reading to her, some- 
 times sitting silently at work, or playing with 
 the babies. Daisy was at times much inclined 
 to talk over the experiences of her short life; 
 and the nurse thought . it would do no harm 
 to indulge her. In this way Veronica learned 
 more of her friend's real character than she 
 had ever known while they were at school to- 
 gether. Daisy was fond of recurring to her 
 school-days. 
 
 " What nice times we had at T - !" said 
 she, one day, after they had been discussing old
 
 62 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 times in this way. "I never saw such a cheer- 
 ful school as that was. So much pains seemed 
 to be taken to make the girls happy." 
 
 "Yes; they were very pleasant days," re- 
 plied Veronica. " Yet a great many girls 
 used to complain bitterly of the fare and ac- 
 commodations. Mrs. J. used to say the grum- 
 blers were generally those who had never lived 
 half as well in their lives before. I know that 
 was true in some cases, those of Mary Draw 
 and Julia Millener, for instance. I knew how 
 they lived at home; and their complaints 
 always seemed to me perfectly ridiculous." 
 
 " The worst of it was, not having a room to 
 oneself, but being obliged to take just such a 
 room-mate as happened to come along," re- 
 marked Daisy. 
 
 " That could hardly be helped, I suppose," 
 said Veronica; "and, after all, people generally 
 assorted themselves pretty soon. I always 
 wondered, however, that you kept on with 
 your room-mate as you did. I always thought 
 her the most disagreeable girl in school." 
 
 " I don't know how it was, myself," replied 
 Daisy ; " only she made me afraid of her. Sho 
 found out wrong things that I did, and used to 
 threaten to betray me. She led me into scrapes
 
 THE ROSE TRANSPLANTED. 63 
 
 and made me do what was wrong, and that 
 gave her a handle over me. There was not a 
 girl in the school who broke more rules, and 
 not one who was more seldom found out, than 
 Adela. Even Miss M., who saw through most 
 of the girls, never thoroughly knew Adela, 
 though I know she used to suspect her ; but 
 she never succeeded in catching her. But I 
 won't talk about her. I should like to see 
 Mrs. W. and Miss M., and all of them, once 
 more. I should like to go through the old 
 halls, and into the rooms, and have a good 
 scolding from Mammy J., again. I dare say 
 she would say that all my ill health was owing 
 to my running out some time without my over- 
 shoes." 
 
 " She might be right, too," observed Vero- 
 nica. " I have no doubt that the seeds of ill 
 health are often sown by early imprudence. 
 Girls are so apt to be careless when they are 
 away from home. We were well looked after, 
 too, at Mrs. W.'s; but it would take a dozen 
 Mrs. J.s to keep within bounds such a house- 
 ful of girls as we had at T ." 
 
 " I was careless, I know," said Daisy. " I 
 never was brought up to have any care. I 
 never did any thing I did not like, at home.
 
 64 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 No duties were ever exacted of me. Mrs. 
 Dale, my guardian's wife, used to say, 'Oh, 
 well, it is a motherless child, poor thing !' 
 whenever Mr. Dale found fault, as he some- 
 times did, with my idleness. I am sure I 
 don't know how I ever learned to read and 
 write; for no one made me. They meant to 
 he very kind ; but I have sometimes doubted 
 whether it was real kindness, after all." 
 
 " I very much doubt it," said Veronica. 
 " I think the sooner children learn that they 
 have duties to perform, the better for them 
 and for every one else." 
 
 " I think so too. It comes so very hard 
 when one is obliged to take them up; and they 
 come to every one sooner or later, and in some 
 shape or other. But Mrs. Dale was very good 
 to me, and she did teach me some things, 
 Veronica, things which I never quite forgot, 
 and which came back to me when I needed 
 them most. I remember how she used to take 
 me on her lap, the last thing before I went to 
 bed, and sing to me the Cradle Hymn. The 
 very first thing I noticed after my babies were 
 born, was Chloe, the coloured woman who 
 waited on me, singing, 'Hush, my dear, lie still 
 and slumber,' to the babies. She was fright-
 
 THE ROSE TRANSPLANTED. 65 
 
 ened when I burst out crying. I believe she 
 thought she had killed me; but it did me 
 all the good in the world. I had not been 
 able to shed a tear since my husband died, 
 except just at first, and my head burned like 
 fire, while my heart seemed cold and dry as 
 dust." 
 
 " Could not you pray, Daisy ?" asked Vero- 
 nica, oftly. 
 
 "Not for a long time," said Daisy, shaking 
 her head. " You see, I felt that I had been so 
 much to blame. Not for my husband's death, 
 but for other things. You know I lost my 
 first baby." 
 
 " I did not know you ever had any but 
 these," said Veronica. 
 
 "Yes: my first was a boy. It only lived 
 ten days. Oh, how I did grieve for it ! I had 
 been pretty quiet for a good while before it was 
 born, not through any good will of mine, but 
 because the doctor was peremptory and I had 
 to obey. Then, of course, I was obliged to 
 think a little ; and I grew more serious., read 
 my Bible, and prayed, and would have gone to 
 church, only I was not able. There was an 
 elderly lady in the house, who was very kind 
 to me. She was very religious, and I learned
 
 66 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 a great deal of her. When my baby died, I 
 was thoroughly sobered, and I made a great 
 many resolutions. I did live very near to 
 God for a long time, and I loved Him, Vero- 
 nica, I know I did, and tried to please Him. 
 Adela laughed at me and teased me ; but Mr. 
 Brush always took my part, and said I should 
 do as I pleased. He did not care for such 
 things himself, but I think he liked to see 
 women religious." 
 
 " That is the case with a great many such 
 men," said Veronica. " But go on, Daisy, if 
 you are not tired. How did it all end ?" 
 
 " I hardly know how I began to fall away," 
 continued Daisy. " It began by small things 
 at first. We lived with a wild, reckless set, 
 foreigners and Creoles, who cared no more 
 for Sunday than for any other day. They 
 would go to the theatre or opera as soon on 
 Sunday evening as any other; or, if they did 
 not, they would play cards at home. I was 
 led to do tilings that I knew to be wrong, and 
 the old feelings and temper came back upon 
 me. I used to resist feebly; but the resistance 
 grew less and less, and the sins more and more, 
 till I left off prayer almost entirely. My 
 friend Mrs. Carter went away, and I had no
 
 THE EOSE TRANSPLANTED. 67 
 
 one to turn to for advice or help; for I had 
 not become acquainted with any clergyman. I 
 was not happy all the time; but I was very 
 gay. Once in a while I would make up my 
 mind to do better; but my resolutions were 
 soon overthrown, and at last I left off trying, 
 and only endeavoured to keep myself from 
 thinking all that I could. 
 
 " I was waked up with a terrible shock 
 when my husband died. I saw all my sin 
 and misery plainly enough then. A great 
 gulf seemed to open at my feet, from which 
 there was no escape. I could not cry; I could 
 not pray; I could not repent. My poor hus- 
 band prayed, and I tried to join him; but, 
 Veronica, I could not. It seemed impossible 
 absolutely physically impossible for me to 
 utter a prayer." 
 
 "You are exciting yourself, Daisy," said 
 Veronica. 
 
 "No: I want to tell you all about it, now 
 I have begun. I never told anybody before. 
 Well, this lasted till my babies were a week 
 old ; and I got no relief. Every thing seemed 
 so hard and cold. Sometimes it even seemed 
 to me that it was all a mistake together, that 
 there was no God, and no dear Jesus, after all,
 
 68 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 nothing but a waste and confused desolation. 
 Oh, it was dreadful !" 
 
 " I should think so, indeed," said Vero- 
 nica, shuddering. " How did you ever live 
 through it?" 
 
 " I am sure I do not know. I suppose God 
 strengthened me; though I did not see Him. 
 At last, as I said, I heard Chloe singing to the 
 baby, and that set me to crying. The tears 
 were a great relief, physically. Chloe was 
 frightened, and would have stopped singing, 
 but I begged her to keep on, and to sing some- 
 thing else. She sang ' Hock of Ages/ to the 
 same tune we used at school, and then a hymn, 
 beginning 
 
 ' Come, humble sinner.' 
 
 "' That's the place to come to, Mrs. John,' 
 said she, when she had finished : ' right to the 
 foot of the cross, right to Jesus.' 
 
 "'I can't, Chloe,' said I. ' I have tried, and 
 I cannot. It is all dark to me. I cannot see 
 his face anywhere.' 
 
 " ' Then come in the dark, my lamb,' said 
 the old woman. 'Call, and He will hear 
 you.' 
 
 " 'I cannot call,' I replied. ' I cannot pray.' 
 
 "'Thou wait, without praying. Do any
 
 THE KOSE THANSFLANTED. 69 
 
 thing but give up. Oh, honey, Jesus loves 
 you! He loves you in all your sin and sor- 
 row. Don't ever doubt that ! Just see what 
 your book says.' And she read from the 'Silent 
 Comforter/ hanging upon the wall, slowly, 
 and spelling the words, for she knew very 
 little, poor thing! 'He that spared not His 
 own Son, but delivered Him up for ns all, 
 how shall He not with Him freely give us 
 all things?' (Rom. viii. 32.) 
 
 " She was called away then, and I was left 
 alone. I lay in a kind of dumb despair, un- 
 able to think, even to feel any thing but that 
 I was utterly miserable and hopeless. All at 
 once something seemed to say to me, 'How 
 much must you have loved any one before 
 you could give up the life of one of these 
 babies for him!' And then it came over me, 
 all the love of God for me, and his goodness to 
 me. And when the old woman came back I 
 could ask her to pray with me, and join in the 
 prayer with all my heart." 
 
 "And was that the end of your trouble?" 
 asked A^eronk-u. 
 
 "Of all the worst of it," said Daisy. "I 
 used to have dark days, and I gave way to 
 temper and to vain repining*; but I could
 
 70 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 always come back. And then He was so good 
 to me ! It seemed, if I may say so, as if He 
 were glad to see me." 
 
 "You may say so, I am sure," said Ve- 
 ronica. " There is joy in the presence of the 
 angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." 
 
 She took from her pocket a tiny book, and 
 read, 
 
 "This is a sovereign friendship of our 
 gracious Lord, that He keepeth us so tenderly 
 while we are in our sin; and, furthermore, that 
 He then toucheth us and showeth us our sin 
 by the sweet light of mercy and grace. Then 
 we are stirred of the Holy Ghost unto praver 
 and desire after Him; and then our Lord 
 showeth Himself to the soul in friendly wel- 
 coming, as if it had been in pain and prison, 
 saying, ' My dear son, I am glad thou art 
 come to me in all thy woe ! I have all the 
 time been with thee, and now thou h'ndest me 
 still loving thee.'" 
 
 "That is it exactly," said Daisy. "He 
 seemed to bring me near Plim so gently. I 
 was a great deal better off after I left Adela's 
 house. Mr. Fowler found me a nice, quiet 
 boarding-place, with a good old woman, who 
 was kind to me and the children. I had some
 
 THE KOSE TRANSPLANTED. 71 
 
 vexations with my pupils, to be sure, and some 
 trouble with the singers in the choir; but I 
 escaped the daily and hourly annoyances and 
 the constant trials of temper which made me 
 so unhappy when I was with Adela. I cannot 
 say I was very happy; but I was contented 
 and quiet. Even when my health failed, I 
 could not be miserable, for it seemed as though 
 Govl would take care of me and my children. 
 And so He has. I am happy now, very 
 happy." 
 
 Daisy continued in the same frame as long 
 as she lived, grateful to every one who was 
 kind to her, patient and smiling to the very 
 last. Anne came often to see her, but never 
 stayed long. She had no control over her feel- 
 ings, and her tears agitated Daisy and brought; 
 on her coughing-fits. 
 
 Anne had quite decided that she liked Kitty 
 the best. She had already provided a superb 
 wardrobe for the baby, revelling in worked 
 frocks and petticoats, and the broadest ribbon 
 sashes that could be bought for money. Her 
 nursery was furnished with all the modern 
 improvements, and was proudly displayed to 
 all her acquaintances, many of whom laughed 
 behind her back and wondered how long the
 
 72 THE TWIN HOSES. 
 
 new freak would last. Meantime, Veronica 
 worked at her cashmere frocks and bird's-eye 
 aprons, while Becky cooked nice things to 
 tempt Daisy's appetite, and revived her know- 
 ledge of ornamental stiches till she made 
 Rosy's new socks into wonders of art. Mark 
 was very busy, but he contrived to steal time 
 from his numerous avocations to see Daisy and 
 the baby, and to carve out of soft pine and 
 cedar some wonderful figures of cows and 
 sheep, and a shepherd and shepherdess, as toys 
 for Rosy. The little lady took to him at once, 
 and won his whole heart from the iirst time 
 she clawed her little hands into his beard; and 
 he was impatient for the time when he should 
 have her at home. 
 
 The time came very soon. Daisy sunk away 
 at the close of a sunny winter's day, passing 
 away as quietly as the sunset-clouds whose 
 pink reflection shone on her pale face. 
 
 "It is all over!" said Mark, brushing the 
 tears from his eyes. " Her God, in whom she 
 trusted, has delivered her from this present 
 evil world. May lie give ns grace to guide 
 this child to her mother's arms! I suppose it 
 will be best to take the children away pretty 
 soon ?"
 
 THE KOSE TKANSl'LAA'TED. 73 
 
 " Perhaps it will be as well," replied the 
 Sister who had charge of the twins. " The 
 longer I keep them, the harder it will be to 
 part with them." 
 
 Mr. John Campion provided for the ex- 
 penses of the simple funeral, and Daisy was 
 laid to rest by the side of Veronica's own 
 babies, under the forest-trees of Mount Faith, 
 then 1 to await her joyous resurrection; and the 
 same day the children were removed to their 
 new homes. 
 
 Becky was at the door, eaajerlv watching for 
 
 w t O / fj 
 
 the carriage, and stretched out her arms for 
 the baby. 
 
 " Fast -asleep," said Veronica, as Mark 
 handed her out. " Carry her in, Becky, and 
 lay her on the bed. I dare say she will be 
 lonely just at first; but she will soon be re- 
 conciled to the change. Children at that age 
 have short memories." 
 
 "Dear lamb!" said Becky, carefully laying 
 down her precious charge. " How nice it 
 seems to have a baby in my arms once more! 
 I wish we could have had them both." 
 
 "That was quite out of the question," re- 
 plied Veronitsi. " To s.iy noiiiing of any other 
 consideration, it would nut have been fair to
 
 74 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 Mrs. John to deprive her of the child after 
 she had set her heart upon it." 
 
 " Xo," said Becky, reflectively : " I suppose 
 not. She has provided beautiful clothes for 
 the child, I must say. They quite take the 
 shine off ours. Such lovely sashes and frocks ! 
 I- can't help wishing Ho&y could have some 
 like them." 
 
 "You must not think of such a thing," said 
 Veronica. "We cannot pretend to compete 
 with Mrs. John in such matters; and whatever 
 money we have to spend for Rosy must be 
 saved for a time wheu she will need it more 
 than now." 
 
 " Well, I suppose that is so," said Becky, in 
 whose mind always rankled a certain bitter- 
 ness that Mr. John Campion should have 
 become so much richer than her favourite Mr. 
 Mark. "And, anyhow, I cannot see the sense 
 of dressing children in white frocks in cold 
 weather, if one had ever so much money." 
 
 " X or I," replied Veronica. " I can see no 
 beauty in a custom which seems so very inap- 
 propriate to the climate; and the danger from 
 fire is something not to be thought of without 
 a shudder." 
 
 Rosy slept till after dinner, and awoke
 
 THE ROSE TRANSPLANTED. 75 
 
 smiling and happy to her supper of bread and 
 milk. She was soon seated on the carpet, sur- 
 rounded by her stock of new playthings, and 
 taking up one after another with a quiet, ob- 
 servant curiosity which diverted Mark greatly. 
 
 "The child will have a turn for science," 
 said he, laughing. " She accepts nothing with- 
 out investigation." 
 
 " I see you are planning her future already," 
 said Veronica. 
 
 " Why, my dear, you know it is my nature 
 to look forward. I am always at least three 
 chapters ahead in my book." 
 
 " I foresee that the said book is provided with 
 a formidable rival," remarked Veronica. " You 
 must not let the new child interfere with the 
 claims of the old one. You ought to be well 
 forward with it; and you have lost a good deal 
 of time during the last two weeks." 
 
 " Oh, Veronica, what a merciless taskmaster 
 you are!" groaned Mark, looking at his desk. 
 "Do let me have this one evening to play with 
 baby." 
 
 " Oh, you need not put on that injured air, 
 as Anne says when I object to her contradict- 
 ing my orders," said Veronica, gayly. "I had 
 no intention of setting you to work to-night."
 
 7G THE TWIN KOSES. 
 
 " But I must go to work of my own accord, 
 though/' said Mark, starting up. " I promised 
 Bacon to come down and correct those proof's 
 this very night. We will have prayer before 
 I go. Don't sit up for me, Veronica. I shall 
 be sure to be late." 
 
 "There is one thing that puzzles me," said 
 Becky, thoughtfully. Rosy was in bed by this 
 time, and Becky had brought her knitting to the 
 parlour fireside. She often did so when Vero- 
 nica was alone, thus affording another ground 
 of stricture to Anne, who " wondered" that 
 Veronica could allow Becky to take such liber- 
 ties. Becky was sitting bolt upright, according 
 to custom, in the hard, straight-backed chair 
 which she affected on these occasions, her knit- 
 ting-work progressing with the regularity of 
 machinery. 
 
 "There is one thing which always puzzles 
 me," she replied, laying down her knitting, 
 and thoughtfully scratching her head with the 
 needle. 
 
 "If there is only one thing, Becky, you are 
 better off than most of us," replied Veronica, 
 rousing herself from a fit of abstraction. "But 
 what is your particular puzzle just now?" 
 
 " Well, it is none of my business, exactly,"
 
 THE ROSE TRANSPLANTED. 77 
 
 said Becky, in rather an apologetic tone. " I 
 was wondering how it happens that Mr. John 
 should have been so much more successful than 
 Mr. Mark. Mr. Mark has more sense in his 
 little finger than Mr. John has in his whole 
 body. Yes, he has, Mrs. Mark," she repeated, 
 anticipating an interruption from Veronica. 
 " I was brought up with them, and I ought to 
 know; and every one liked Mr. Mark the best. 
 I don't see how it is." 
 
 "Are you quite sure it is so, Becky?" asked 
 Veronica. "Are you quite certain that Mr. 
 John is the most successful ?" 
 
 ."Well, he is the richest, if you come to 
 that," said Becky. 
 
 "There can be no question of that; but 
 making money is only one kind of success, 
 nay, it may be, no success at all." 
 
 Becky looked doubtful. 
 
 Veronica proceeded: "A successful man is 
 a man who attains the object upon which he 
 has set his heart; and unless one knows what 
 that object is, one cannot tell whether he is 
 successful or not." 
 
 "Mr. John set his heart upon getting rich 
 from the time he was a little boy," observed 
 Becky. " I have often heard him talk about
 
 78 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 it. He always said he would make a fortune 
 and then sit down and enjoy it." 
 
 " Exactly ; and how much is a fortune ?" 
 
 " A fortune is generally a little more money 
 than folks have got, I think," said Becky. 
 
 Veronica laughed. "Exactly so, Becky. 
 That seems to be what Mr. John thinks. He 
 has made money hand over hand for the last 
 ten years. I suppose he is one of the richest 
 men in the city; but he does not seem to have 
 come to the stopping-place, for he works quite 
 as hard and allows himself just as little recrea- 
 tion as he did when he first began business. 
 So it seems he cannot be called a successful 
 man, after all." 
 
 " Well, now, supposing that is so," said 
 Becky, who was usually very cautious in giving 
 her assent to any thing : " what aim did Mr. 
 Mark set before himself?" 
 
 "To glorify God and enjoy him forever," 
 said Veronica, with emphasis. " That was 
 the aim that Mark set before himself early in 
 life; and in that he has certainly succeeded, 
 thus far." 
 
 " No one knows that better than I do," re- 
 turned Becky, with equal emphasis. "If any 
 one ever did glorify God in his life and con-
 
 THE ROSE TRANSPLANTED. 79 
 
 versation, that man is Mark Campion. Even 
 in the darkest days, when you were sick, and 
 we were in debt and hardly knew where to 
 turn for the next day's meals, and the dear 
 little boy was taken away, I never heard a 
 murmur or complaint from his lips, no, not 
 when he had to work half the night to earn 
 the wood which he cut up with his own hands. 
 I hcive often wondered why so much trouble 
 was allowed to come upon you, of all people in 
 the world. You seemed to need it so little." 
 
 " The only answer to all such questions is 
 that of our Father himself: 'As many as I 
 love I rebuke and chasten ;' f All things work 
 together for good to them that love God.' 
 Those are the answers we must rest upon, 
 Becky. I confess with shame that I could not 
 always'do so; but I believe Mark's faith never 
 failed for an instant." 
 
 "Mine did, I know," said Becky. "But, 
 after all, Mrs. Mark, I cannot help wishing 
 sometimes that Mr. Mark was rich, so that he 
 need not have to work so hard." 
 
 " Hard work is good for him, Becky. Don't 
 you know that his spirits and health are always 
 best when he has the most upon his hands? I 
 do wish sometimes, however, that he was not
 
 80 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 obliged to work so late at night. It is bad for 
 his eyes. But I think we are pretty well off 
 at present, Becky : don't you? What do we 
 want very much that we do not have?" 
 
 "Well, I don't know," said Becky, con- 
 sidering. " I should like you to have a car- 
 riage and horses: only then we should have to 
 keep a man, and that is such a bother." 
 
 Becky always spoke of men in the abstract 
 as though they were noxious animals, not to 
 be endured about the house except in cases of 
 the utmost need. 
 
 " We have always the street-cars, you know," 
 said Veronica. "Well, what next?" 
 
 " Well, let me see. There would be no use 
 in furnishing this room any smarter, as long as 
 we use it so commonly ; and I can't see the use 
 of rooms if you don't use them. I am sure 
 this old ingrain carpet is easier to sweep than 
 a Brussels or velvet, especially as Mr. Mark 
 will scatter his shavings from one end of it to 
 the other. Besides, this room, just as it is, 
 looks prettier than Mrs. John's grand parlours, 
 after all. Somehow, her rooms never have a 
 home-like look. I don't think any rooms ever 
 look so, where people never have any thing 
 doing."
 
 THE ROSE TRANSPLANTED. 81 
 
 " I agree with you there, Becky. No room 
 seems pleasant to me where there are no work- 
 baskets, or ink-stands, or books made to be read, 
 or newspapers, or magazines. But, I confess, I 
 should like to have money enough to fit up 
 the side room properly with bookcases and 
 make a library of it." 
 
 " You would hardly want to do that just 
 now." observed Becky, folding up her knit- 
 ting. " A bedroom down-stairs is a great con- 
 venience when there is a baby about Well, 
 Mrs. Mark, I guess I'll go to bed. You ought 
 to go too; but of course you won't: so there is 
 no use in talking. I'll just make up the cakes, 
 and take one look at the baby. Bless her litllo 
 heart! she is sleeping just like a picture."
 
 82 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MISS BROWN. 
 
 FEW days after the coming of the 
 babies, Veronica called upon her 
 sister-in-law. She found her seated 
 in her new nursery, holding the 
 little Kitty, and amusing her with a 
 "crying baby," while various other 
 expensive toys were scattered about the 
 floor. Kitty was splendidly dressed in 
 white, with a Roman scarf a quarter of a yard 
 wide for a sash. The room was warm ; but the 
 child's bare arms looked red and mottled. 
 Anne held her up for Aunt Veronica's inspec- 
 tion, with a not unjustifiable pride; and cer- 
 tainly the little creature did look very pretty 
 indeed. 
 
 "Now, is not that a handsome frock?" said 
 
 Anne. " Did you ever see such open-work in 
 
 your life? It is more like lace than cambric." 
 
 " It is certainly very beautiful," said Vero-
 
 MISS BROWX. 83 
 
 nica. "Who did it? Mrs. Wicks, 1 .sup- 
 pose ?" 
 
 " Xo, indeed," replied Anne, colouring. 
 "Mrs. Wicks will never do a stitch of work 
 for mo again. Just think ! she had the impu- 
 dence to send her bill to John, because she 
 said I kept her waiting so long for those 
 worked petticoats. And it was only forgetful- 
 ness on my part, too; for I had the money by 
 me all the time. John came home and scolded 
 me like every thing about it. He said he never 
 interfered with my finery, but he would not 
 allow me to make debts. 'Well,' said I, 
 ' Mrs. Wicks has got her money, but she has 
 lost a customer. I will never go to her again.' 
 And I never have. Miss White worked all 
 Kitty's things." 
 
 "Mrs. Wicks is very poor, you know, Anne, 
 and she has had a groat deal of expense with 
 her family: so she may perhaps be excused for 
 a little over-eagerness. She told me herself 
 .she was sorry for what she had done, but she 
 did not know which way to turn for money." 
 
 " I can't help it," persisted Anne. " If any- 
 body ailronts me onee, they don't have a chance 
 to do so again. I allow of no interference in 
 inv concerns."
 
 84 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 Veronica could not forbear smiling, but she 
 made no remark, and only said, " Miss White 
 certainly works very nicely. But are you not 
 afraid of Kitty's taking cold, with these bare 
 arms ? You know she is transplanted from a 
 warm climate." 
 
 "Oh, well, I don't believe in coddling chil- 
 dren," replied Anne. "I believe they may as 
 well be hardy as tender, if people only think 
 so. I always thought you kept yours too 
 warm; and that was one thing which ailed 
 them. There, now! don't put on your martyr 
 face. I don't mean to "hurt your feelings: only 
 you are so wonderfully sensitive and touchy." 
 
 " I think nature herself teaches us that 
 young creatures are to be kept warm," said 
 Veronica, who knew by experience that the 
 only way to defend herself from Anne's accu- 
 sations was to disregard them. " See how 
 much pains she takes with young birds, how 
 the cat cuddles her little kittens, and the dog 
 her puppies, and even how the buds upon the 
 trees are wrapped up. Dr. "Warren says that 
 Boston sacrifices about five hundred babies a 
 year to the fashion of short sleeves and bare 
 necks." 
 
 " Dr. Warren is an old fogy," said Anne,
 
 MISS BROWN. 85 
 
 peevishly. " Do you suppose if short sleeves 
 had been so bad for babies, people would not 
 have found it out by this time? I do hate to 
 see the little things fussed up with long sleeves, 
 like old women. Oh, Kitty, what have you 
 done? You have pulled poor baby's head 
 off! Now it cannot cry any more. But never 
 mind, darling: mamma will buy you another. 
 If you want to buy one for Rosy, Veronica, 
 they have them at Smith's." 
 
 " Rosy will have to play with dolls of home 
 manufacture, at present," said Veronica. "I 
 have made her one with which she is perfectly 
 satisfied, and which has the advantage of not 
 being breakable. I think such pretty and ex- 
 pensive toys are thrown away upon little chil- 
 dren. They are soon soiled and broken and 
 lose their novelty, and by the time the children 
 are old enough to appreciate fhem they have 
 become an old story. I wish to keep Rosy 
 contented with cheap and small pleasures as 
 long as possible." 
 
 "Well, I suppose it is only prudent in her 
 case, as the poor child has so little to look for- 
 ward to," said Anne. "But I must tell you, 
 Veronica, that it will not do to make such a 
 very marked difference between the children
 
 86 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 in point of dress. People will remark upon 
 it if you do so." 
 
 " If people will not mind their own business, 
 it is no fault of mine," said Veronica, not 
 without emphasis. " I shall dress Rosy ac- 
 cording to my means and the best of my judg- 
 ment; and I certainly shall not expend upon 
 finery for a baby the money which will be 
 needed for her education by-and-by." 
 
 "If you had not been willing to take some 
 trouble and make some sacrifices for the child, 
 you ought not to have taken her," said Anne. 
 "I shall talk to Mark about it." 
 
 "Do; and I will talk to John about Kitty's 
 short sleeves and the danger of her setting her- 
 self on fire with her muslin frocks," said Ve- 
 ronica, laughing. " Which of us do you think 
 would stand the best chance of being heard? 
 Seriously, Anne, I must act according to the 
 best of my judgment about this child. I have 
 taken her for my own, and I must rear her 
 as my own. I cannot be dictated to by any- 
 body." 
 
 "Who wants to dictate?" said Anne, pee- 
 vishly. " You think yourself so very perfect, 
 that if any one gives you the least hint, or in- 
 timates that you may be to blame in any thing,
 
 MISS BROWN. 87 
 
 you fly into a passion. I think it's very hard, 
 after all I have (lone for you, if I cannot give 
 you a little advice. But I don't expect any 
 gratitude for what I do for people. I have 
 given all that up long ago." 
 
 " As to that," said Veronica, " if we were 
 to reckon up the items, we should perhaps find 
 the account more nearly balanced than you 
 think. Moreover, you should remember that 
 benefits with which one is constantly re- 
 proached cease to be benefits, and become in- 
 juries. But come, Anne; do not let us quar- 
 rel. You will take your course, and I must 
 take mine; but we need not interfere with one 
 another. These dear babies ought to be a 
 bond of union, instead of a cause of discord." 
 
 "I am sure I don't want to quarrel; only 
 you are so touchy," said Anne. 
 
 "Well, let bygones be bygones," returned 
 Veronica. " Can you give me a pattern for a 
 baby's cloak? Mrs. Kirkland has none that 
 I think pretty." 
 
 In displaying and commenting on Kitty's 
 various outer garments, all Anne's ill humour 
 vanished, as, to do her justice, it was apt to 
 do after a short indulgence, and the sisters- 
 in-law parted excellent friends.
 
 00 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "Becky/ 3 said Veronica,, one day, after 
 dinner, " have you heard any thing about Miss 
 Brown lately? I have been so busy with the 
 baby, and all the rest, that I have hardly 
 thought of her. I believe I will carry her 
 some of this apple-pudding. It will be just 
 the thing she will be likely to fancy." 
 
 "I will carry it to her myself/' replied 
 Becky. " You have been out once, and that 
 is enough. Poor thing! if one could do any 
 thing to comfort her, one ought to be willing, 
 
 1 am sure." 
 
 Becky was soon on her way, with her basin, 
 and some of her famous light cakes, wrapped 
 in a white napkin. She was met at the door 
 of Miss Brown's house by a young, crabbed- 
 looking woman, with a whining child in 
 her arms. She seemed annoyed by Becky's 
 inquiry for her aunt, and answered, rather 
 unwillingly, 
 
 "She is pretty comfortable, I believe: at 
 least, I have not seen her for some days." 
 
 "Not seen her!" exclaimed Becky. "What 
 do you mean by that?" 
 
 "Why, you see, Rebecca, aunt was not very 
 comfortable here, at least, she was not at all 
 contented, and the house is so small and in-
 
 MISS BROWN. 89 
 
 convenient, and we thought she would perhaps 
 be happier with some one else; and so " 
 
 "Out with it!" said Rebecca, bluntly. 
 "Have you sent her to the poor-house? It is 
 no more than I have been expecting." 
 
 "No," returned Martha. "The poor-house, 
 indeed ! But she has gone to the Old Ladies' 
 Home; and I only hope she will like the 
 change as much as we do." 
 
 "To the Old Ladies' Home !" repeated 
 Rebecca, slowly. "And so, Martha, after all 
 the rest, you have finished up by turning the 
 poor old woman out of her own house to die 
 among strangers !" 
 
 "I'm sure \ve had hard work enough to 
 raise the money," said Martha, beginning to 
 whimper. "We had to pay two hundred 
 dollars down, for all it is called a charitable 
 institution; and we have always paid the 
 taxes upon the house, ever since we came to 
 live here: so it ought to be ours, I am sure." 
 
 "Yes, out of your aunt's money, that she 
 put into your hands, like an old fool as she 
 was!" interrupted Becky. 
 
 "And aunt has a parlour and bedroom of 
 her own, and closet beside, which is more than 
 she needs, in my opinion," continued Martha,
 
 1)0 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 in the same tone. "We have had to let her 
 take furniture for them ; and now she wants 
 the secretary and sofa, and I don't see how we 
 can spare them. I wish people would just let 
 us alone!" 
 
 "Oh, we shall let you alone, never fear," 
 said Rebecca, grimly. "You don't suppose 
 any of us are coming here for your sake, do 
 you? Only just let me tell you, at parting, 
 if the judgment of Heaven don't fall on you 
 in some shape, Martha Brown, I shall be mis- 
 taken. Your days will not be long in the 
 land, I guess. I wonder you dare look at that 
 child in your arms, when you think how you 
 have treated the woman who was a mother to 
 you when your own mother abandoned you in 
 her shame. Oh, yes! you see I know all 
 about it; and so shall other folks, I promise 
 you, unless you do the poor old woman justice. 
 Every one round here thinks you are Miss 
 Brown's niece; but I know better. I well 
 remember your mother, poor wretch! and 
 how she died, too." 
 
 "I'm sure, Rebecca, you won't be so cruel 
 as to bring up all that story?" whimpered 
 Martha. "Even Tom's family don't know 
 any thing about it."
 
 MISS BROWN. 91 
 
 " Let me see how you behave, and then I 
 will tell you what I will do," replied Becky, 
 turning away. 
 
 "You may as well leave what you have got 
 in your basin," said Martha. "You won't 
 want to carry it back again." 
 
 " Oh, it aVt heavy," returned Becky. " I 
 would not presume to offer it to folks that 
 have got a house of their own. Good-by, 
 Martha. I hope your sin won't be visited on 
 your children : that's all !" 
 
 " Why have you brought your pudding 
 back again?" said Veronica, in surprise. 
 "What has happened?" 
 
 " The old lady has moved," replied Becky. 
 
 " AV r hat do you mean ?" 
 
 "Or, rather, she has been moved," continued 
 Becky. "They have sent her to the Old 
 Ladies' Home. I gave Martha a piece of my 
 mind at parting: that is one comfort. She 
 wanted me to leave the pudding for her; but I 
 wasn't going to do that, anyhow." 
 
 "And so they have sent the poor woman 
 away from her own home, to finish her days 
 in an almshouse!" said Veronica. "Not but 
 she will be a hundred times better off in the 
 Home ; but what black ingratitude ! I wonder 
 
 8*
 
 92 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 if Martha can know any thing of her own true 
 history." 
 
 "Oh, yes: she knows it, and, more than 
 that, she knows that I know it, too," said 
 Becky. "I told her as much to-day. Folks 
 say adopted children almost always turn out 
 that way. I hope this darling won't." 
 
 "I trust not, Becky. At any rate, we will 
 not borrow any trouble about it yet. I will 
 try to go round and see Miss Brown to- 
 morrow. She must think it strange that I 
 have not been near her." 
 
 The next day Veronica put Rosy in her 
 little carriage, one of the few new things which 
 had been bought for her, and went to pay a 
 visit to Miss Brown. The Old Ladies' Home 
 was a charitable institution, richly endowed by 
 two old maiden ladies, both with lands and 
 money, for the benefit of sixteen single women 
 and widows of good report, who should bring 
 their own beds and tables and two hundred 
 dollars in money. The bequest had greatly 
 increased in value during forty years, and, as 
 the funds were honestly managed and none 
 of them diverted for any other purpose, the 
 old ladies were made extremely comfortable. 
 Veronica found Miss Brown in a good-sized
 
 MISS BROWN. 93 
 
 and lofty room, well furnished with carpet and 
 curtains, a pleasant, sunshiny window, and a 
 nice little stove at which she could prepare her 
 own meals, if she preferred doing so to going 
 to the public table. A door near the fire- 
 place opened into a small but very neat bed- 
 room, and another, with glass in the top, into 
 a large pantry or storeroom. The sun shone 
 in pleasantly, the room looked cheerful and 
 orderly, and as Veronica entered and glanced 
 about her she thought her old friend had de- 
 cidedly changed for the better. 
 
 " It is very good in you to come and find 
 me out so soon," said Miss Brown, rising from 
 her arm-chair to greet her friend. " I have 
 been looking for you, and should have sent 
 you word of the change I have made; but I 
 had no messenger. And who is this little 
 girl?" 
 
 " This is my little daughter Kosy," replied 
 Veronica. " She and her concerns have been 
 the cause of my long absence: so I thought I 
 would bring her to make her own apology. 
 We have adopted her in the place of those 
 God has taken to Himself." 
 
 "Pretty darling!" said Miss Brown, with 
 tears in her eyes. " I hope she may be a
 
 94 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 comfort to you, Veronica. Is she an or- 
 phan ?" 
 
 "Yes. Her father died before she was born, 
 and her mother, an old schoolmate of mine, 
 was buried two or three weeks ago. She has a 
 twin sister, whom Mrs. John Campion has 
 taken for her own." 
 
 "And have the children no family friends at 
 all?" 
 
 "No one but an aunt, who lives in New 
 Orleans and is not likely to interfere with 
 them." 
 
 " So much the better for you," said Miss 
 Brown. " I hope God will give you grace to 
 train this child up in the way she should go, 
 and make her a blessing to you. What shall 
 I find to amuse her?" 
 
 "'She will be very well contented with any 
 thing or nothing," said Veronica. " That bas- 
 ket of yarn balls will be a great delight, if 
 there is nothing in it which she can hurt. She 
 seems to have a faculty of amusing herself, and 
 will sit on the floor for two hours at a time, as 
 happy as a kitten." 
 
 " That is an excellent habit, and one to be 
 cultivated by all means," said Miss Brown. 
 <( Veronica, whatever you do, don't make your-
 
 MISS BROWX. 95 
 
 self a slave to the child. Make her understand 
 early that it is her place to please and wait 
 upon you. You will both be the happier for 
 it in the end." 
 
 "I believe yon are right," said Veronica, 
 thoughtfully. " It is more blessed to give 
 than to receive." 
 
 "That was the mistake I made from the 
 first," continued Miss Brown, resuming her 
 knitting. "I made myself a slave to Martha. 
 I humoured her in every fancy. No matter 
 what I was doing, I laid aside every thing to 
 amuse and gratify her. Ah, it was a great 
 mistake !" 
 
 "It does -not excuse Martha, however," said 
 Veronica. 
 
 " I made another great mistake in my anxiety 
 to secure the child's a Motion," continued Miss 
 Brown. " I never governed her. I thought sho 
 would not love me if I contradicted her, and 
 so I let her have her own way in every thing. 
 ] did not teach her to fear God, for I hardly 
 knew Him myself in those days, and I did 
 not teach her to treat me with even common re- 
 spect. I well remember one day, when Martha 
 was about four years old, a neighbour came in, 
 and I was telling- her of something the child had
 
 96 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 done. 'I didn't, either, any such thing,' said 
 Martha, in her lisping way. 'Don't be so ridi- 
 culous, aunty !' I laughed, and thought it very 
 smart; but the neighbour looked grave. ( That 
 sounds amusing now,' said she; ' but how will 
 it sound when she is twelve or fourteen ?' ' Oh, 
 she will know better by that time,' said I. 
 But when I tried to teach her better I found 
 it was not so easy. I had trained her to think 
 all I did for her no more than her due. If I 
 did not work for her, I was greatly to blame. 
 If I did, it was no more than she had a right 
 to expect; and she never dreamed of thanking 
 me. Ah, it was a great mistake ! I ruined 
 the child I wished to benefit, and prepared a 
 bed of thorns for my old age. May God for- 
 give me!" 
 
 "You must not reproach yourself too deeply," 
 said Veronica, kindly. "You acted for the 
 best." 
 
 " No," replied Miss Brown, shaking her 
 head: "I dare not think so. It was selfish- 
 ness, Veronica, selfish love of ease and fear 
 of trouble. It distressed me to hear the child 
 cry and to see that she was unhappy. She 
 had a strong will, at least, she was very wil- 
 ful, and it seemed so much easier at the time
 
 MISS BROWN. 97 
 
 (o let her have her own way, or to coax her 
 into doing what I wanted, than it was to con- 
 tradict her. I hope God will forgive me, 
 nay, I believe He ha-s forgiven me; but I 
 must bear the sting of seeing the fruit of my 
 doings constantly before my eyes. I pray night 
 and day that it may not be visited on Martha 
 and her children." 
 
 " \Vas not your move rather a sudden one?" 
 asked Veronica, willing to divert her old 
 friend from such a painful topic. "I heard 
 nothing of it till Becky went over to see you 
 last night." 
 
 " Very sudden to me," said Miss Brown ; 
 " though I believe Martha and her husband 
 have had it in contemplation for a long time, 
 and were only waiting for me to reach the re- 
 quired age. I was sixty years old only a day 
 or two before Martha came into my room and 
 told me that Thomas had paid the money into 
 the Home for me, and that my room was ready. 
 It gave me a terrible shock, I must confess, and 
 at first I almost thought I could not bear the 
 change; but I soon found I could not help 
 myself. I had put the house out of my hands 
 with my other property, and I had made no 
 stipulation as to a home for myself. But the
 
 98 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 furniture in the house is still mine; and I 
 should like to have a little more of it, particu- 
 larly my dear mother's sofa, and the secretary, 
 arm-chair, and clock which belonged to my 
 father's study. I have his books, as you see," 
 (pointing to a glass corner-cupboard contain- 
 ing a large number of well-bound and care- 
 fully-preserved volumes.) " I believe Martha 
 thought them only so much useless lumber, 
 and not worth house-room. But I should like 
 to have the other things, if possible." 
 
 " I will see what can be done," said Vero- 
 nica, who thought she saw her way to a solu- 
 tion of the difficulty. "Do you find yourself 
 comfortable here?" 
 
 " Very much so. They are all kind to me, 
 and I am most bountifully supplied with fuel 
 and provisions. I prepare my own breakfast 
 and tea, as I can thus take my own time about 
 it; and every thing is very handy for me, as 
 you see." 
 
 " I must bring you some pictures for your 
 walls," said Veronica. " Mark has heaps of 
 prints and photographs for which we have no 
 room ; and you should have some plants in that 
 sunny window." 
 
 " I should like them very much, and also
 
 MISS BROWN. 99 
 
 a little dog or cat to keep me company. 1 
 miss the children." 
 
 "I think I can help you to one," said Ve- 
 ronica. " My sister-in-law has a very pretty 
 little black spaniel for which she wishes to 
 find a home, and I am sure she would be 
 pleased to give it to you. I will see her about 
 it to-day." 
 
 Veronica only stopped at home long enough 
 to give Rosy into Rebecca's charge, and then 
 went straight down to her brother-in-law's 
 office. She was fortunate enough to find him 
 alone. John waked up from his abstraction 
 at the sight of Veronica, for whom he had a 
 great regard and respect, and listened to her 
 story with great attention. 
 
 " I do not know that you can do any thing 
 about it, brother," she concluded, " but I know 
 you have business dealings with Thomas James, 
 and 
 
 "Yes, yes," said John, rubbing his eye- 
 glasses. " I will attend to the matter. I told 
 the old lady she was foolish to trust him so 
 far; but of course she wouldn't be advised. 
 How is the baby ? The most wonderful child 
 that ever lived, of course." 
 
 " We think so," said Veronica, smiling.
 
 100 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " And so do we. I want to make Rosy a 
 present, Veronica," John continued, putting 
 his hand into his pocket and drawing out a 
 gold piece; "but I never know what to buy 
 for children: so I leave it to you. As for 
 Miss Brown, the old lady shall have her fur- 
 niture. I know where to put the screws on." 
 
 How the screws were to be put on, Vero- 
 nica did not inquire, and, to say the truth, did 
 not greatly care. She knew that her brother- 
 in-law was a just and prudent man, and not 
 one to let the grass grow under his feet. She 
 called on Anne and secured the spaniel for 
 Miss Brown, and then went home, well satis- 
 fied with her morning's work. A few days 
 afterwards, going to carry the dog to its new 
 home, she found Miss Brown rejoicing in the 
 possession of her household goods, with the 
 tall clock ticking away in the corner, and the 
 little bird in the top, popping out of his house 
 to proclaim the hours, as though he had never 
 lived anywhere else. The screws had evidently 
 been applied to good purpose.
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 
 
 101 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 
 
 % OME to tea, Veronica, you and 
 Mark, and bring Rosy with you. 
 I want to see the children to- 
 gether. You have not been at 
 
 our house to tea this winter. Now, 
 
 . 
 promise you will come." 
 
 " I cannot promise for Mark till I have 
 seen him ; but you may expect Rosy and 
 Rosy's mamma," said Veronica. "I am going 
 down town, and will speak to Mark on my 
 way ; and I promise you, if it be possible, I 
 will bring him out to-night." 
 
 " Mark is very unsocial," said Anne. " It 
 seems the hardest work in the world to drag 
 him out anywhere." 
 
 " I admit that he is apt to be remiss in his 
 social duties," replied Veronica, smiling. "His 
 dressing-gown and his whittling, as Becky 
 disrespectfully calls his wood-carving, have
 
 102 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 such charms for him, after a hard day's work, 
 that it is very difficult to induce him to leave 
 them for the ' customary suit of solemn black' 
 required on social occasions. But, if you will 
 allow him to come in his gray clothes, I will 
 see what I can do." 
 
 This conversation passed between the sisters- 
 iu-law, in Anne Campion's drawing-room, 
 about four months after the adoption of the 
 children. In spite of Becky's prophecy, Anne 
 had not "grown tired of her doll." On the 
 contrary, she seemed to become more and more 
 fond of it every day. Kitty was a wonder- 
 fully engaging child, and soon wound herself 
 very closely round the hearts of the household, 
 even of John Campion, who had never before 
 been known to take the slightest notice of any 
 baby. 
 
 Child-like, Kitty soon found out her own 
 powers. She discovered that her mamma 
 could not bear to hear her cry, and that to 
 scream for any thing was to get it, if she only 
 screamed loud and long enough. She was not 
 backward in exercising this power. That very 
 morning, Veronica had seen a fine specimen. 
 Kitty caught sight of a very small and very 
 precious pair of china vases mounted in gilt
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 103 
 
 filigree, and, in her pretty, peremptory way, de- 
 manded one of them for a plaything. 
 
 "Oh, no," said Anne, coaxingly: "Kitty 
 cannot have the vase. Kitty would break 
 mamma's pretty vase. Kitty may have her 
 blocks with the pictures. See the pretty 
 mooly cow." But Kitty had seen the pretty 
 rnooly cow a great many times, and the vase 
 wa a novelty. 
 
 "Cup, Kitty! cup!" she repeated, still 
 stretching out her hand. 
 
 " How plainly she begins to speak ! doesn't 
 she?" said the fond mother. "No, no. Kitty 
 can have her own pretty silver cup, but not 
 mamma's vase." 
 
 But Kitty persisted, and at last flung her- 
 self on the floor and screamed with all her 
 might. 
 
 " There, there! don't cry: mamma's pet shall 
 have the cup; but she must be very careful. 
 She has such a strong will," she added, speak- 
 ing to Veronica. "It is very hard for her to 
 give up any thing upon which she sets her 
 heart. I think she will have a great deal of 
 force of character and perseverance in whatever 
 she undertakes." 
 
 "Perhaps so," replied Veronica; "but I
 
 104 THE TWIN KOSES. 
 
 don't think that perseverance and wilfulness 
 always go together : do you ?" 
 
 " I suppose you would not have given her 
 the vase if she had screamed herself into con- 
 vulsions," said Anne; "but my notions are 
 different. I like to see character develop 
 itself freely and in its own way. It makes 
 children artificial and deceitful to put such a 
 restraint upon them as many people do. Be- 
 sides, I think it very bad for children to cry. 
 I am convinced that it affects their heads." 
 
 Veronica made no answer to this oracular 
 theory, but she could not help thinking that 
 it depended upon the kind of character whether 
 it should be allowed to develop itself freely 
 or not. She saw that Anne was laying up 
 trouble both for herself and the child; but 
 she knew by experience that it was worse than 
 useless for her to say any thing. 
 
 Creeping to the other end of the room, Kitty 
 turned her new plaything over a few times, and 
 then, taking it by the handle, she began pound- 
 ing it with all her small force upon the floor. 
 Anne sprang to the rescue; but she was too late. 
 The precious pale-green china flew into frag- 
 ments, which were scattered far and wide. 
 
 " You naughty, naughty child !" exclaimed
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 105 
 
 Anne. "You have ruined mamma's pretty 
 vase, that she gave five dollars for only yester- 
 day. Naughty Kitty! Mamma does not love 
 her when she does so." 
 
 Kitty screamed louder than ever. 
 
 "Oh, you are quite intolerable this morning. 
 I shall send for Jane," said Anne, ringing the 
 bell. " Here, Jane, take Miss Kitty away, and 
 pacify her, if you can. My poor little vase! 
 Dear me! I think children are troublesome 
 comforts, after all." 
 
 " I con Id have told you that," remarked 
 Veronica. "The best of children make a great 
 deal of trouble; and Kitty and Rosy are just 
 at the trying age." 
 
 " It is an interesting age, too, I think," said 
 Anne. 
 
 "All ages are interesting to one who really 
 cares for children. But I am sorry for your 
 vase." 
 
 " Yes ; it spoils the pair, and they are very 
 uncommon," said Anne. " However, children 
 will be children." 
 
 "One would not have them any thing else," 
 said Veronica, thinking, however, that there 
 was a difference in children. 
 
 "Kitty is growing a regular little Tartar,"
 
 106 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 said Mark, when Veronica repeated Anne's 
 message to him. "I must say, I don't care to 
 have Rosy see a great deal of her." 
 
 " We cannot help it, my dear Mark. They 
 must be together more or less, and all we can 
 do is to make the best of matters. There is 
 no need of Kitty being a Tartar, any more than 
 Rosy; but when she finds out that she has 
 only to cry for a valuable piece of china to 
 have it given her for a plaything, it is no 
 wonder that she cries. You would soon find 
 Rosy doing the same thing, under the same cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 " It is a great pity, for the sake of the child, 
 if for nothing else," said Mark, thoughtfully. 
 " Cannot you give her a hint, Veronica ? You 
 have had so much more experience with chil- 
 dren than she has, you know." 
 
 "The idea of Anne's taking a hint from 
 me about any thing!" said Veronica, laughing. 
 "Besides, she acts according to her theory of 
 education. She says that character should be 
 allowed to develop itself freely." 
 
 "Oh, if she has a theory of education, I have 
 done," replied Mark. "There is no more to 
 be said: only, I am sorry for the child. But 
 cannot you let me oif for to-night, Veronica?
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 107 
 
 You and Rosy can go, and I will come for 
 you." 
 
 " I neither can nor will let you off," said 
 Veronica. "You are to bear your share of 
 the duties of life, as well as other people; and 
 it is not kind to Anne to refuse her express in- 
 vitation for no better reason than because you 
 are lazy. I will tell you, for your comfort, 
 however, that Anne says you may come in 
 your gray clothes. Now, mind you don't dis- 
 appoint me." 
 
 Mark gave a grunt of resignation and ac- 
 quiescence, and returned to his writing. He 
 would have pleaded fatigue and stupidity when 
 tea-time came, but Veronica was inexorable, 
 and produced him in Anne's parlour at the 
 time appointed. She had expended part of 
 Uncle John's gold piece on a delicate rose- 
 coloured merino frock for baby, which she had 
 pleased herself with embroidering to the ex- 
 tent of her skill. 
 
 " Well, Veronica, I must say, you do make 
 the child look very pretty, very, indeed," 
 said Anne, as the little girl's wrappings were 
 removed. " If it were not for those odious 
 long sleeves, I don't know but I should like 
 the coloured frocks as well as white ones; and
 
 108 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 they certainly clo save a great deal of trouble; 
 but the sleeves spoil every thing. Let me take 
 off her sack for once: there! see how much 
 prettier she looks. Come, now, do have them 
 off." 
 
 "When summer comes," said Veronica, 
 smiling. "I should not dare to take them off 
 now." 
 
 "Well, I must say, you are very obstinate. 
 Just see how well Kitty has been all winter." 
 
 " Kitty is stronger than Rosy ; and, more- 
 over, I think I have heard of Kitty's having 
 more than two or three bad colds. But, Anne, 
 just make the case your own. How would 
 you like to go about the house these cold days 
 with your neck and arms all bare?" 
 
 "It is different with children," said Anne. 
 
 " I do not know why. However, there is 
 no particular use in arguing the case any more, 
 that I know of. Please to admire my wreath 
 of oak-leaves and acorns. It is my own de- 
 sign and my own work." 
 
 " It is lovely," said Anne. " I always say 
 you have the prettiest patterns of any one. I 
 wish you would make one for me." 
 
 " I will make any number of patterns for 
 you," replied Veronica ; " but I rather doubt
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 109 
 
 Miss White's willingness to work after my 
 designs. She has a great conceit of her talent 
 in that way. Now let us go down-stairs, or 
 Mark will think himself deserted, and run 
 away home." 
 
 " So you really did come, Mark ? It is 
 more than I expected," said Anne. " You shall 
 have a grand cup of coffee to pay for your 
 extra goodness." 
 
 " Thank you. You know I appreciate your 
 coffee, Anne. Veronica never will let me 
 have it strong enough. She pretends it is all 
 for my good, you know," he added, confiden- 
 tially ; " but I know better. It is because 
 Becky is stingy, and Veronica dares not con- 
 tradict her. Halloo, Kittens! Come and see 
 Uncle Mark. Up she goes! That's the way 
 to play with kittens." 
 
 " Take care," said Veronica. " Kitty is not 
 used to such rough play. She has no one to 
 make a ball of her, as you do of Rosy." 
 
 "Oh, yes! John romps with her half the 
 evening. I often think he will break her 
 neck. But, Mark, now don't you think that 
 babies look prettier in low necks and short 
 sleeves ? Don't you think Rosy would look 
 better if she were dressed like Kitty, instead
 
 110 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 of being fussed up like an old woman, as she 
 is now ?" 
 
 This was one of Anne's " ways." She never 
 knew how to let drop a disputed point, be it 
 ever so small, but would bring it up again and 
 again, and upon all occasions. 
 
 " I never saw an old woman in a short red 
 frock and white apron," said Mark, gravely. 
 "As to the short sleeves, I certainly agree with 
 you that they are very pretty." 
 
 " There, Veronica !" exclaimed Anne : " I 
 knew Mark would say so. Any one with any 
 taste would agree with me." 
 
 " I generally think children look all the 
 prettier the less clothes they have on," con- 
 tinued Mark, seriously. " I once saw half a 
 dozen little New Zealand girls elegantly dressed 
 in one large blue bead apiece ; and I never saw 
 children look prettier. Nevertheless, I think 
 such a costume would look rather too cool and 
 airy in this climate; and I think the same ob- 
 jection applies to short sleeves in winter." 
 
 " Nonsense, Mark ! That is very different." 
 
 "A difference in degree, but not in kind, 
 my dear sister, though I admit the degree is 
 a long one." 
 
 "There is no use in talking to men about
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. Ill 
 
 such things," said Anne. " They never can 
 understand." 
 
 " I am fully conscious of my deficiencies in 
 that respect," said Mark, meekly ; " and there- 
 fore I leave all such subjects to my wife. I 
 never have an opinion of my own after I have 
 passed the door of iny own house. I put all 
 my self-appreciation in my pocket with .my 
 latch-key at night, and never take it out till I 
 reach the office next morning. I used to have 
 some spirit before I was married, I believe; 
 but Veronica and Becky, between them, have 
 taken it all out of me." 
 
 " Becky, indeed ! I would soon teach Becky 
 her place," said Anne, with dignity. " She 
 would never go on so in my house, I promise 
 you." 
 
 " She would not go on at all in your house ; 
 because you would not live together a week," 
 said Veronica. "Becky has her faults, I 
 admit, and sometimes she is disposed to be 
 rather tyrannical ; but we have learned to know 
 each other's ways, and we have rubbed through 
 too many hard times together to part easily. 
 Her great fault is an unwillingness to allow the 
 family quite enough to eat." 
 
 " I am not sure but that is a good fault, 
 
 10
 
 112 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 after all," said Anne. " Our new cook makes 
 away with groceries at a dreadful rate. She 
 actually used up fifteen pounds of butter in 
 one week, Veronica ! What do you think of 
 that?" 
 
 " I think she never used it at all," replied 
 Veronica. 
 
 " Sometimes I think so too," said Anne. 
 " And yet I do not like to believe that such a 
 nice, pleasant-mannered woman would rob me. 
 She has lived in the best families, too." 
 
 "So she says." 
 
 " Why, don't you believe it ?" 
 
 " I neither believe nor disbelieve it, Anne. 
 I know nothing about the matter; but what 
 is that to the purpose, if the woman is waste- 
 ful or dishonest ?" 
 
 Anne did not know, exactly, and therefore 
 turned the conversation. 
 
 "Please to admire your present, Uncle 
 John," said Veronica, directing his attention 
 to E-osy's frock. 
 
 " My present?" said John, who had forgotten 
 all about the matter. "Well, I am sure the 
 child looks very neat and comfortable, very 
 creditable to you, Veronica, I must say. Anne, 
 why don't you put such frocks and aprons on
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 113 
 
 Kitty? Her arms are always cold. Just feel 
 them now, even in this warm room." 
 
 Here was an unexpected blow. John hardly 
 ever noticed any article of dress. Anne coloured, 
 and darted an angry glance at Veronica, as 
 though suspecting her of prompting the ques- 
 tion, as she answered, sharply, " I suppose I 
 can dress my own child as I please." 
 
 "That depends," said John. "Why, the 
 child has got on muslin frocks, as I am alive!" 
 he exclaimed, just awakened to the fact, though 
 the said frocks had been before his eyes all 
 winter. " Muslin frocks, with the thermometer 
 almost at zero! Who ever heard of such a 
 thing ? Put a woollen frock on her, directly." 
 
 " She has not a woollen frock in the world," 
 said Anne. " Nobody of any taste no one 
 who can afford to dress children decently puts 
 coloured frocks upon babies before they are 
 three years old." 
 
 " Veronica does, you see." 
 
 "Veronica may do as she pleases, and I 
 shall do as I please," said Anne. 
 
 " Mrs. Campion," said John, deliberately, 
 " you will have some woollen frocks with long 
 sleeves made for that child, and keep them on 
 her till the weather is warm, warm, do you
 
 114 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 hear? Let them be bought and made to-mor- 
 row; and there is the money to pay for them." 
 And he tossed some bills across the table to his 
 wife. "It is no wonder the child is threatened 
 with croup every other week. I wonder how 
 she has lived at all, such a winter as we have 
 had." 
 
 John very rarely took these fits of authority ; 
 but, when he did, he regarded neither time nor 
 place, and his decrees were as absolute as those 
 of the Medes and Persians. This Anne knew 
 very well, and she also knew that there was 
 no use in venting any irritation on her hus- 
 band, as he minded her no more than the 
 rhinoceros minds the birds pecking on his 
 back. So she turned the vials of her wrath 
 upon Veronica, whom she chose to consider 
 the cause of this outbreak. 
 
 " Come into my room and have a smoke," 
 said John to his brother, after tea. " I have 
 some prime Turkish tobacco, real Latakia." 
 
 " I have given up smoking for some time," 
 replied Mark. " I found it too expensive a 
 vice for a poor man. However, I don't mind, 
 just for once, if Veronica gives me leave." 
 
 "Oh, I dare say Veronica will give you 
 leave, since it is at John's expense," said Anne,
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 115 
 
 unable to repress her vexation any longer. 
 " We have all heard of the man who could 
 drink any given quantity." This polite speech 
 was lost upon Mark, who had closed the door 
 behind him, and Anne at once turned the cur- 
 rent of her wrath upon Veronica. 
 
 " Well, Veronica, I must say, you have 
 played your cards well. John told me one 
 day that you had been at his office; but I 
 really never imagined what your errand was. 
 I will thank you, however, not to interfere 
 between me and my husband again." 
 
 "But, Anne, I have not interfered," re- 
 plied Veronica, gently. " I have not been to 
 the office since Christmas-time; and then I 
 never mentioned Kitty's name. My errand 
 related to some business which I wished to 
 have done for Miss Brown. But, even if I 
 had done so, it would be no worse than your 
 appeal to Mark about Rosy's dress." 
 
 "I did that openly," said Anne, a little 
 taken aback. " I did not go to work to un- 
 dermine you and make mischief behind your 
 back. It is a shame, so and about my own 
 child, too!" she added, in tears. "You had 
 better take the baby away at once, if that is 
 
 the course you mean to take. I am sure I 
 W*
 
 116 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 never would have had any thing to do with 
 
 her, if I had known " Anne's voice was 
 
 drowned in sobs. 
 
 " Anne, don't be a baby yourself," said Ve- 
 ronica. " Do listen to reason. I have never 
 said one word to John or yourself about the 
 dress or management of Kitty, since you have 
 had her, except when you have asked my 
 opinion. I should not think of such a thing. 
 Neither have I ever interfered with any affair 
 of yours since you were married. You know 
 best whether you can say the same of mine." 
 
 "And there are all her nine frocks just good 
 for nothing!" continued Anne. "Such pains 
 as I took with them ! and every one said she 
 was the best-dressed child in the street." 
 
 " The white frocks will be just as pretty next 
 summer," said Veronica, consolingly; "and 
 you can make the merino frocks as elegantly 
 as you please. I will work you one like 
 Kosy's, if you like. And moreover, Anne, I 
 think white frocks are really going out. I 
 called at Cedar Hill yesterday, and saw Mrs. 
 Miller's children; and they all had coloured 
 frocks, even the baby. You know she is 
 always in the height of fashion." 
 
 " To be sure, I might have white cashmere
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 117 
 
 for her best; and, I must say, John has been 
 very liberal," said Anne, brightening up a 
 little, and counting her cash. " But, for all 
 that, Veronica, I do think you did wrong to 
 interfere." 
 
 " But, Anne, I did not interfere. I never 
 said one word," replied Veronica, hardly 
 knowing whether to be angry or amused. 
 " Have you ever found me out in a great many 
 lies, that you refuse to believe me now?" 
 
 " Oh, well, perhaps you did not mean to ; 
 but you certainly did," said Anne. " There 
 are other ways of interfering besides in words. 
 However, I shall say no more: only, this must 
 be the last time. I have borne a great deal 
 from you, but I cannot have you making mis- 
 chief between me and my husband. That is 
 the one thing I won't stand." 
 
 Veronica's patience with Anne was a three- 
 fold cord, not easily broken; but perhaps it 
 had been considerably chafed in former en- 
 counters, for it now snapped all at once. She 
 rose, and began putting up her work. 
 
 " Where are you going?" asked Anne, sur- 
 prised, as she always was upon such occa- 
 sions. 
 
 " I am going home," said Veronica, dis-
 
 118 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 tinctly. " When you can learn not to insult 
 your invited guest in your own house, I may 
 perhaps return, and not before. Come, Rosy." 
 
 "Why, Veronica, what do you mean? 
 How have I insulted you ?" 
 
 "By calling me a mischief-maker, and by 
 more than insinuating that I am a liar." 
 
 "Why, Veronica, how can you say so? 
 I did not mean any such thing. I only 
 meant " 
 
 " You only meant to vent your ill humour 
 on the person you thought would bear it best, 
 I suppose," said Veronica, as Anne paused, 
 not quite knowing what she intended to say; 
 " but you must understand, Anne, that if we 
 are to be friends you must learn to rein your 
 tongue. I shall not submit to such treat- 
 ment." 
 
 " Oh, don't go, Veronica," exclaimed Anne, 
 really frightened. "John will be so angry." 
 
 " That is your affair, not mine." 
 
 " And I am sure I did not mean any thing," 
 continued Anne : " only, I was provoked with 
 John for coming out in that way before you, 
 and I did not know what I said. And I have 
 got such a nice supper, too, -just what I know 
 Mark likes best. Please don't go. Come;
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 119 
 
 you know I always say what comes upper- 
 most," 
 
 " You would do well to take care what 
 comes uppermost, in that case, at least so far 
 as I am concerned," said Veronica, yielding, 
 however, to Anne's entreaties, and resuming 
 her seat ; " for I tell you, once for all, I shall 
 not feel obliged to endure any more such lan- 
 guage." 
 
 Anne would perhaps have continued the 
 subject, for she had an undying affection for 
 the last word, and, if she made any apology 
 whatever, she usually spoiled it as soon as 
 made; but, fortunately, she was called from the 
 room, and when she came back she was fur- 
 nished with a new subject by the wastefulness 
 of the cook, who had used up all the cream, 
 so that there was none for the apricot tarts. 
 
 "So you have given up smoking, Mark?" 
 said John, as he offered pipe and tobacco to his 
 brother. "What induced you to do that? 
 You used to be the greatest old chimney I 
 knew." 
 
 " Why, smoking is an expensive vice for a 
 poor man, as I told you," replied Mark, in the 
 process of lighting his pipe. " I don't like 
 any tobacco but the best; and that is costly.
 
 120 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 Besides, I was in debt ; and I have a theory 
 that people who owe money have no right to 
 luxuries." 
 
 "That's a good doctrine, anyhow," said his 
 brother, sinking into his favourite arm-chair 
 and putting up his feet luxuriously. " I wish 
 more people held it. But, bless you, the peo- 
 ple who owe the most are those who have the 
 most to spend. AVho drives such fine horses 
 and makes such a show as the Blairs ? And 
 yet Blair cannot hold a cent of property in 
 his own name, and has not done so these ten 
 years." 
 
 " That is not my way," said Mark, assum- 
 ing an equally free-and-easy position on the 
 other side of the fire. " As long as I was in 
 debt, I felt that I was living upon other peo- 
 ple's money." 
 
 " Well, there is our church, now," continued 
 John. " We are in debt for the very ground 
 the house is built upon; and yet we have just 
 bought a grand new organ, and a set of painted 
 windows, and I don't know what besides. 
 What do you say to that ?" 
 
 " The principle seems to me the same," re- 
 plied Mark : " only, I think such a course is 
 worse in a church than in a private indi-
 
 MLS UNDERSTANDING. 121 
 
 vidual, because the example is more widely 
 spread." 
 
 " But you are not in debt now, are you, 
 Mark ?" 
 
 " No, thank God !" said Mark, devoutly : 
 " I owe no man any thing." 
 
 "Then I think you might indulge now and 
 then." 
 
 " Well, perhaps so, John ; but, after all, I 
 am just as well without tobacco, and better. 
 The money which I should waste in smoke 
 goes for things which do not perish so quickly 
 in the using. Then, I have a new motive to 
 economy, since we have taken the child to 
 bring up. And, to conclude, Veronica doesn't 
 like the smell." 
 
 John gave a kind of grunt, which might 
 mean either dissent or approval. "Do you 
 expect to have any thing to leave the child?" 
 he asked, after another interval of silence. 
 
 " I don't know. I mean she shall have a 
 thoroughly good education, as good as I can 
 give her; and I have already doubled my life- 
 insurance for her benefit." 
 
 " Right, quite right," interrupted John. 
 
 "And if this book succeeds, as seems likely, 
 I may have something more."
 
 122 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " I read the chapters published in the 
 
 what's its name?" said John. "I am no 
 great judge; but I thought them very clever. 
 And do you keep your premiums paid up? 
 Excuse me for asking, it is no business of 
 mine, but it is important to do so ; and if you 
 should be short of ready money at any time, 
 you know I can always accommodate you." 
 
 "Thank you, John; but I have done very 
 well hitherto." 
 
 " Don't hesitate to ask me, if yon want 
 money at any time, Mark. We have taken 
 different paths in life; but that is no reason we 
 should not help one another all we can." 
 
 "You are very kind, brother," said Mark, 
 with glistening eyes; for he was easily moved, 
 and any expression of affection was rare with 
 John. "If I should need any thing, I will 
 not hesitate to apply to you; but I am really 
 doing very well. It was only my long illness 
 and poor Becky's mishap, with the sickness 
 and death of our Annie, that threw me back. 
 We are all well now, thank God ! My wife is 
 the best manager in the world, and puts money 
 in my purse instead of taking it out. Our 
 wishes are modest, you know ; and really we 
 are very comfortable."
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 123 
 
 " John," continued Mark, after an interval 
 of some minutes, "will you excuse me if I 
 ask you a question about your own business ?" 
 
 " Fire away," said John. "What now?" 
 
 " Have you ever made a will?" 
 
 " Long ago. Just after I was married. You 
 will find I have not forgotten you, old fellow." 
 
 " That was not what was in my mind," said 
 Mark. 
 
 "You need not tell me that, Mark : I know 
 you better. But what were you thinking of?" 
 
 "I was thinking of Kitty," said Mark. 
 " Ought you not to fnake some provision for 
 her?" 
 
 "Well, I don't know. I cannot say I had 
 thought of it," said John, putting down his 
 pipe and looking at his brother. "Perhaps 
 it will be best. To tell the truth, Mark, 
 though I dare say you will think it all non- 
 sense, a will is about the last business paper 
 that I want to touch. I made my will once, 
 as I said, just after I was married; and I have 
 never looked at it since." 
 
 " You are no more likely to die for making 
 your will." 
 
 "Of course I know that. It is merely a 
 
 fancy of mine. But I think you are right 
 11
 
 124 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 about providing for Kitty. It won't do to 
 leave her altogether dependent upon Anne. 
 She is a good woman, but she sometimes takes 
 freaks, and, like other women, she knows no- 
 thing at all of business." 
 
 "Why don't you teach her, then? Vero- 
 nica is as good a man of business as I am, 
 though I dare say you think that is no great 
 praise," he added, smiling as he saw his brother 
 smile. " But now confess, John, that you un- 
 derrate me. Did not I always pay my interest 
 at the bank to a day?" 
 
 "Always; but then confess, Mark, in your 
 turn, that you are not a money-making man." 
 
 " Mine is not a money-making trade. I 
 knew that when I took it up. But, if I were 
 you, I would teach Anne to understand com- 
 mon business." 
 
 " I should dearly love to see you do it." 
 
 " I would certainly try. What is to be- 
 come of her if she is left to manage for 
 herself?" 
 
 " She won't be left to manage for herself. I 
 have taken care of that. As for Veronica, she 
 is one by herself, and no more a rule for other 
 women than our mother was. As to providing 
 for Kitty, depend upon it, Mark, I will see to
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 125 
 
 the matter; and I thank you for reminding me 
 of it. I will add a codicil to my will." 
 
 "A codicil to his will ? What should he do 
 that for ?" thought Anne, who caught the last 
 words as she came to call the gentlemen to 
 supper. "I wonder what Mark has been at 
 now, talking to John about his will? After 
 all, I believe Veronica did say something to 
 John about Kitty's dress. It would be just 
 like her, always pretending to act from a 
 sense of duty. I shall always think so."
 
 126 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE BEEACH WIDENS. 
 
 Anne always did think so. 
 Weeds often take strong root in 
 very shallow soil; and the roots 
 of Anne's prejudices were an- 
 chored in the rock, the stratum of 
 obstinacy which often underlies a 
 weak character. When she once took a 
 dislike to anybody, from whatever cause, 
 that person could nevermore do any thing 
 right in her eyes. Every action, however 
 praiseworthy or however harmless, was dis- 
 torted to suit her preconceived theory. Under 
 all her consciousness ofsuperiority to Vero- 
 nica there lurked always an uneasy feeling of 
 jealousy, which was not lessened by John's 
 praises of his sister-in-law, whom he was wont 
 to designate as a " brick," " a regular sensible 
 woman." 
 
 This jealousy was nothing new. It dated
 
 THE BREACH WIDENS. 127 
 
 back to their school-days, when it was ac- 
 counted a great triumph to put Saint Veronica 
 out of temper, and when the fact of having 
 made Veronica cry was enough to put Anne 
 in the best of spirits for several days together. 
 Still, they had always, as cousins, maintained 
 a certain degree of friendly intercourse, and 
 "got on" pretty well together, especially since 
 Anne had had household cares of her own on 
 which to bestow some part of those energies 
 which had aforetime been wont to expend 
 themselves upon other folks' business. But 
 Anne had now the idea firmly fixed in her 
 mind that Veronica had interfered in her man- 
 agement of Kitty; and she clung to it with the 
 tenacity of certain kinds of crabs, which can 
 never leave off pinching whatever they happen 
 to take hold of. The sisters-in-law never met 
 without sundry hints and innuendoes on Anne's 
 part; while, at the same time, she never hesi- 
 tated to criticize Veronica's treatment of Rosy, 
 even before the child herself. 
 
 Veronica's system, if she could be said to 
 
 have one, was indeed very different from Anne's. 
 
 Sire had not nearly so many theories; but then 
 
 had a great deal more experience, both in 
 
 school and at home; and this experience led
 
 128 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 her to believe that the sooner children learned 
 implicit obedience the better it was both for 
 themselves and those about them. Happily, 
 Rosy had been taught this lesson to some ex- 
 tent even before she was a year old ; and Vero- 
 nica took care that she should not forget it. 
 She did not wish the child ever to remember 
 the time when she had not done as she was 
 told. 
 
 " No, no, Rosy," she said, one evening, as 
 the little girl, who had climbed upon a chair, 
 was stretching out her hand towards Mark's 
 wood-carving, still his favourite evening re- 
 laxation, which lay en the middle of the 
 table. " No, no ! Baby must not touch papa's 
 work." 
 
 Baby, now getting on towards four years old, 
 looked a little doubtful, and again stretched 
 out her hand towards the forbidden plaything. 
 
 "No, no," repeated Veronica, more de- 
 cidedly. "Does Rosy hear mamma say no?" 
 
 " 'Ell," said the little one, with a sigh of 
 resignation, "then Rosy wants the Noah's 
 Ark." 
 
 "Oh, yes; Rosy may have the Noah's Ark," 
 said Veronica, reaching the plaything in ques- 
 tion from the mantel-piece. " Rosy may have
 
 THE BREACH WIDENS. 129 
 
 her own things; but she must not touch 
 papa's." 
 
 " Well, I declare !" said Anne, who was 
 sitting by : "I would not believe there could 
 be so much difference between twin sisters. 
 You would never break Kitty's spirit in that 
 way." 
 
 "Kosy's spirit is not broken," replied Ve- 
 ronica. " I do not know a more lively child. 
 She plays and talks from morning till night." 
 
 " I cannot help that," persisted Anne. " Her 
 spirit must be broken, or she would never give 
 up so. She will never have any force of 
 character, you will see." 
 
 " Because she has learned to obey ? I think 
 that is the very reason why she will have it. 
 The sooner children learn that there are things 
 in the world which they cannot do and must 
 not have, the better, since they must all run 
 against such things, sooner or later." 
 
 " Let them enjoy their liberty as long as 
 they can, then. I would rather have Kitty 
 ten times more troublesome than she is, than 
 to see her a poor, tame, spiritless thing, with 
 all the life whipped out of her." 
 
 u Do you think Rosy answers that descrip- 
 tion?" 
 i
 
 130 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "Well, perhaps not now; but she will, if 
 you go on as you have begun. I should be 
 afraid to treat a motherless child so, for ray 
 part. I should expect the soul of her mother 
 to descend from heaven to defend her." 
 
 " I don't believe Daisy will descend from 
 heaven to give Rosy Mark's picture-frame for 
 a plaything," said Veronica, dryly. " In 
 making Rosy docile and obedient, I am only 
 carrying out the work which her own mother 
 began, and I am not afraid of her disapproval. 
 Ilosy's enjoyments are not, and will not be, cur- 
 tailed by any such course : on the contrary, 
 they are increased. A child once thoroughly 
 governed, so as to mind by a word or a look, 
 may be safely indulged to almost any extent; 
 while an ungoverned child must be watched 
 and checked every moment, to prevent it from 
 doing mischief, and, after all, it will be in 
 scrapes half the time." 
 
 " Now, Veronica, if you begin to talk at me, 
 I will go," said Anne, who, herself a perfect 
 mistress of the art of insinuation, was always 
 suspecting it in other people. " If you think 
 Kitty such a very bad and troublesome child, 
 I will take care henceforth that she does not 
 come in your way. I suppose all this tirade
 
 
 1 Rosey toddled off, proud of her mission." p. 131.
 
 THE BREACH WIDENS. 131 
 
 grows out of the fact that the poor child had 
 the misfortune to break something the last 
 time she was here. If you will tell me the 
 value of the article, I will pav for it." 
 
 "Rosy, it is almost time for papa to come 
 home," said Veronica, taking no notice of 
 Anne's remark. " Run and ask Becky for 
 his slippers, and put them by the fire for 
 him." 
 
 Rosy toddled off, proud of her mission, 
 which was at once her daily duty and plea- 
 sure. The slippers deposited in their place, 
 she began pulling at the chair in which her 
 aunt was seated. Veronica took no notice, 
 wishing to see how the child would manage 
 matters. 
 
 " What do you want of my chair, Rosy ?" 
 asked Anne. 
 
 "Papa's chair, p'ese, Aunt Anne," said 
 the little girl. "Put papa's chair by the 
 fire." 
 
 " And what will you give me ? A kiss ?" 
 
 " 1 will say, ' Tinkle, tinkle, 'ittle 'tar,' for 
 you," replied Rosy. 
 
 " Dear me, what an inducement ! I suppose 
 I must give it up." 
 
 She moved as she spoke, and Rosy, putting
 
 132 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 forth all her little strength, dragged the chair 
 into its accustomed corner, and was starting 
 off about something else, when Anne said, 
 
 " But stop, l^osy. You promised to say 
 'Twinkle, twinkle,' for me." 
 
 "Yes, you promised, Rosy," said Veronica; 
 "and you must keep your word, you know." 
 
 " I want to see Becky make the cakes," 
 pleaded Rosy. 
 
 "But you promised," repeated Veronica. 
 
 Rosy looked wistfully at the door, but after 
 a moment's pause she turned back, and, plant- 
 ing herself on the hearth-rug, repeated the lines 
 with great emphasis and distinctness. 
 
 " Capital !" said Anne. " Do you know any 
 more verses?" 
 
 " Yes : I know ' A very young lady,' and 
 ' Thank you, pretty cow,' and the 'House that 
 Jack built,' and 'On Linden.' Becky says 
 that. And I can say my hymns." 
 
 " Well, now, run away to Becky, and ask 
 her to bake you a cake, if you like," said Ve- 
 ronica. " We will dispense with any further 
 display of your accomplishments." 
 
 "I should think you would be afraid of 
 hurting her head by teaching her so much," 
 said Anne. " The idea of a child of that age
 
 THE BEEACH WIDENS. 133 
 
 learning to repeat 'Hohenlinden'! Of course 
 she cannot understand it." 
 
 " Of course not/ 7 said Veronica. " No one 
 expects her to do so. But she has a quick ear, 
 and the grand music of the lines took her 
 fancy. She is never tired of hearing verses 
 repeated; and, as Becky's memory is a store- 
 house of rhymes, new and old, she often enter- 
 tain Rosy in this way for hours at a time. 
 Rosy picks up the lines which please her ear; 
 and thus, without any attempt made to teach 
 her, she has learned a great many." 
 
 " But surely it must be bad to learn so 
 much at her age/' persisted Anne. " Preco- 
 cious children never grow up healthy, either in 
 mind or body." 
 
 " My dear Anne, I don't believe 'Nursery- 
 rhymes' or ' Original' poems ever gave any child 
 water on the brain," said Veronica, smiling. 
 " Rosy is no more precocious than any child 
 who lives almost entirely with grown-up peo- 
 ple. She is a very sweet, playful little girl, 
 with an active mind, which must needs be 
 employed about something; but even my par- 
 tiality cannot make me think her a prodigy." 
 
 "I expect she will turn out something like 
 that poor little wretch Howard Cowley, who
 
 134 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 is being paraded about the country," said 
 Anne. " He certainly is a prodigy. I never 
 heard any thing like his recitations. They 
 would be remarkable even in a grown person." 
 
 " I have not been to see him," said Vero- 
 nica. " I think all such exhibitions very 
 painful." 
 
 " I don't believe he will ever live to grow 
 up," continued Anne. " His head is all out 
 of shape now. I determined when I saw him 
 that Kitty should never be hurt in that way. 
 I think you ought to take warning." 
 
 "There is all the difference in the world be- 
 tween allowing a healthy child to*" learn and 
 repeat verses for her own amusement, and 
 keeping her exhibiting in crowded assembly- 
 rooms till midnight the year round. I would 
 not for the world have my child's health in- 
 jured; but I do not think her in any present 
 danger." 
 
 " Oh, well, of course you know all about it. 
 But will you drive with me to-morrow after- 
 noon ? John says I must take the horses out 
 every day, or he will sell them." 
 
 " Unluckily, I have an engagement," said 
 Veronica. " On any other day I shall be de- 
 lighted. But, Anne, if you are going alone,
 
 THE BREACH WIDENS. 135 
 
 suppose you ask Miss Welles? It is a great 
 pleasure to her to ride, and she seldom has the 
 opportunity ; and you know she cannot walk. 
 It would be a real kindness." 
 
 "Well, I don't mind if I do," said Anue. 
 " She is a good old soul, if she is rather poky 
 and fussy; and, as you say, it will be a kind- 
 ness." 
 
 Anne went away in a pretty good humour ; 
 but the next afternoon, as she was returning 
 from her drive, she met Veronica and Rosy 
 just coming out of the Old Ladies' Asylum. 
 
 "So that was the engagement which pre- 
 vented your driving with me?" said she, as she 
 drew up to the side- walk. "Upon my word, 
 Veronica, I feel flattered !" 
 
 " I could not help myself, Anne," replied 
 Veronica. "I promised Miss Brown that I 
 would bring Rosy to see Beauty's puppies, and 
 I promised Rosy that she should come." 
 
 " Rosy, indeed !" said Anne, scornfully. 
 "Who minds a promise to a baby?" 
 
 " Rosy is not exactly a baby," replied Vero- 
 nica; "and, if I did not mind my promises 
 to her, I should have little reason to suppose 
 that she would regard hers to me. You are 
 mistaken if you think I would not keep an 
 
 12
 
 136 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 engagement to Rosy or Kitty as quickly as to 
 a grown person." 
 
 "Oh, very well. Drive on, William." 
 
 " I want to go with Aunt Honey !" cried 
 Kitty, who was very fond of her aunt Ve- 
 ronica, perhaps because she was the only 
 person in the world who ever governed her. 
 
 "No; you cannot go to-night. Aunt Roiiey 
 does not want you." 
 
 " Yes, she does. Don't you, auntie ?" 
 
 " To be sure I want you, if mamma is will- 
 ing, not else. Do Jet her come, Anne. I 
 will send Becky home with her." 
 
 " I cannot allow it," said Anne, who, like 
 her husband, now and then took a brief spasm 
 of authority. " I have said no, and that is 
 enough. Drive on, William." 
 
 Kitty kicked, screamed, and roared with all 
 her might, much to the discomfiture of poor, 
 precise Miss Welles, who did not at all relish 
 driving through the principal streets of the 
 city in such company. 
 
 Veronica pursued her way with Rosy, and 
 presently saw Anne's carriage draw up to the 
 side- walk and wait for her to come up. Kitty 
 was still roaring and kicking. 
 
 " Veronica, if you don't mind being troubled
 
 THE BREACH WIDENS. 137 
 
 with Kitty, I really wish you would take her," 
 said Anne, colouring a little. " I cannot drive 
 through the Avenue with the child in this 
 state. I will send for her by-and-by." 
 
 Miss Welles looked amazed at this specimen 
 of family government. Veronica suppressed 
 her smiles as well as she could, and took pos- 
 session of Kitty, who, having gained her point, 
 stopped crying directly, and was as placid as 
 possible. She enjoyed her visit highly, and 
 never thought of crying, even when forbidden 
 to pull the tail and ears of Nero, now a con- 
 sequential and dignified cat. 
 
 "Well, Kittens," said John Campion, when 
 she returned home, "what did auntie say to 
 you ?" 
 
 "She said, 'No, no, Kitty!'" said the little 
 girl, seriously. 
 
 "Indeed! And what did you say? Did 
 you scream ?" 
 
 "No," said Kitty. "I was a good girl. 
 Auntie said so." 
 
 "And do you like to be good ?" 
 
 "No," replied Kitty, still more seriously. 
 "I don't always like to be good and not touch 
 Uncle Mark's things." 
 
 " That is it, exactly," said Anne. " ' Don't
 
 15S THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 touch !' is Veronica's first, second, and third 
 commandment. She makes a regular little 
 slave of Rosy." 
 
 " She takes her slavery very easily," re- 
 marked John. " I never saw a livelier or hap- 
 pier child. And as to the not-touching system, 
 I think it a very convenient one. Kitty is 
 really very troublesome in that respect. I 
 think she is old enough to learn to let things 
 alone." 
 
 " She is nothing but a baby, Mr. Campion. 
 I think it is absurd for you to expect her to 
 behave like a grown woman. Such wonder- 
 fully perfect children never live to grow up. 
 I do not believe Rosy will ever see twelve years 
 in the world." 
 
 " She seems healthy enough, for all I see." 
 
 "That is because you men don't understand 
 such matters. Her head is all out of shape 
 now; and no wonder, considering the way she 
 is drilled and crammed all day long. I shall 
 speak to Mark about it." 
 
 "You had better not. Mark won't relish 
 any interference, I can tell you. He thinks 
 his wife perfection." 
 
 " They need not interfere with me, then," 
 said Anne, peevishly. "I shall never get over
 
 THE BREACH WIDENS. 139 
 
 Veronica's going and talking to you about 
 Kitty's dress, that first winter." 
 
 " What upon earth are you talking about ?" 
 asked John, in great amazement. " Veronica 
 talk to me about the child's dress? What 
 could put such a notion into your head ?" 
 
 " Oh, well, if you choose to deny it, I shall 
 not contradict you ; but I know she did. You 
 would never have thought of such a thing if 
 some one had not put you up to it." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said John, gruffly: "as if any 
 person of common sense could not ; see that a 
 white frock and short sleeves were not a fit 
 dress for a child in cold weather! Veronica 
 never said a word about the matter, nor any 
 one else." 
 
 " Oh, well, have it your own way," said 
 Anne. " Come, Kitty; it is time to go to bed." 
 But Kitty had no notion of going to bed, and, 
 as usual, carried her point of sitting up, till 
 she fell asleep in her chair. 
 
 12*
 
 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NELLY. 
 
 'HE next year passed along very 
 quietly with our friends. Mark's 
 book was published, and turned 
 out a decided success. Edition 
 after edition was called for; the book 
 was well spoken of in the Reviews, 
 and the great monthlies competed with 
 each other in compliments, and requests for 
 contributions. Money flowed in upon the 
 family in South Street, and Mark found him- 
 self for the first time in case to fulfil the che- 
 rished wish of his heart. He added a room to 
 his house for a library, and bought the vacant 
 lot next him for a garden. John ridiculed 
 the idea of the library, but approved of the 
 purchase as a good investment, since land 
 in that neighbourhood was rapidly rising in 
 value. Anne thought the library a good 
 thing, since it would take the litter of Mark's
 
 NELLY. 141 
 
 books and papers out of the sitting-room; but 
 she thought the garden great nonsense, and 
 prophesied that Veronica would never be able 
 to keep any flowers, with a child of Ilosy's age 
 running about. As to vegetables, every one 
 knew that it cost twice as much to raise as to 
 buy them. 
 
 "That depends," said Mark. " If one hires 
 all the labour done, a garden is doubtless a 
 very ex-pensive affair; but I expect to do the 
 greater part of the work myself, with what 
 help Veronica and Kosy can give me. I 
 shall not aspire very high at present, but I 
 think we may compass some radishes and 
 salad, tomatoes and cucumbers, and perhaps 
 a few string-beans. Such things taste very 
 differently when they come directly from the 
 garden to the table, from what they do when 
 brought three or four miles to market. Then 
 I mean to have some raspberries and cur- 
 rants, grape-vines, and a cherry-tree or two, 
 and perhaps some dwarf pears, though the 
 last are rather too easily stolen to be entirely 
 satisfactory." 
 
 "You will never succeed in the world," 
 said Anne. " What are you planting now ? 
 Corn ? What an idea !"
 
 142 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " Popping-corn, to amuse Rosy and Rosy's 
 papa in the winter evenings." 
 
 " What a child you are, Mark ! You will 
 never be any thing else, I do believe." 
 
 " Never, so far as popped corn is concerned, 
 unless I lose my teeth; and, really, I don't see 
 why I should." 
 
 " Well, I should think a man who had been 
 favourably noticed in the Reviews might be 
 above such child's-play." 
 
 " I don't seem to find myself so much 
 changed by the praise of the Reviews," said 
 Mark, putting on a look of deep consideration. 
 " Have you observed any alteration in me, 
 Veronica ?" 
 
 " Really, I cannot say," replied Veronica, 
 laughing. "Becky says the last jug of syrup 
 has gone off faster than usual, and that she 
 cannot keep any cakes unless she hides them ; 
 but that last is an old complaint. I think you 
 take more sugar in your coffee than you did, 
 which, at the present price, is not a sign of 
 increasing wisdom." 
 
 Anne looked seriously annoyed. She never 
 could understand the kind of pleasant rallying 
 which was constantly passing between Mark 
 and his wife, and always suspected them of
 
 NELLY. 143 
 
 laughing at her. " You are a pair of babies," 
 said she, "and you will never be any thing 
 else. I should think you had had trouble 
 enough to sober you." 
 
 " My dear sister, we have had trouble 
 enough to teach us not to borrow any more, 
 but to take and enjoy every innocent pleasure 
 our kind Father sends us, even if it be no 
 nior^ than popping corn," said Mark, more 
 gravely. " I believe one great secret of a 
 happy life consists in finding pleasure in little 
 things. I am sorry you think I am not suffi- 
 ciently dignified to be praised by the Reviews, 
 but I hope you will not be seriously afflicted 
 by it, for I am sadly afraid I shall never be any 
 better." 
 
 " And there is Rosy, now. Do you expect 
 you are ever going to teach her to let your 
 things alone ?" 
 
 " I hope so," said Veronica. " She is very 
 good about meddling in the house. I dare 
 say I may have some little trouble at first; 
 but I think she will soon learn." 
 
 " Yes, after she has been whipped and sent 
 to bed a dozen times. I should rather never 
 have a garden than to pay such a price for it." 
 
 " What a lively imagination you have,
 
 144 THE TWIN HOSES. 
 
 Anne! Rosy never was whipped in her life. 
 I hope you don't report your ideas of my 
 family government as facts. People will think 
 me a domestic tyrant." 
 
 Anne coloured a little, for she was conscious 
 of having more than once enlarged upon her 
 sister's system as compared with her own. 
 She had even written to her mother-in-law 
 such an account of Veronica's severity that 
 Mrs. Campion was quite alarmed, and thought 
 seriously of remonstrating with Veronica upon 
 the subject. 
 
 The family in South Street passed a pleasant 
 summer, in spite of bricks and mortar, dust 
 and noise, and all the discomforts of building. 
 Mark worked in his garden early and late, 
 and, like the fabled giant of the Greek story, 
 drew health and strength of body and mind 
 from contact with mother earth. His was a 
 mind exquisitely alive to every beauty, whether 
 of nature or art. Veronica's portulacca-bed, 
 opening its many-coloured blossoms to the sun, 
 was a constant feast to him; and every little 
 bird or beetle was like a personal friend. 
 Every new flower was to him, who lived 
 habitually so near to God, like a new gift 
 from that beneficent Friend of whom and for
 
 NELLY. 145 
 
 whom are all things. The lilies spoke to 
 him their lesson of faith, and the vine told of 
 Him who is the true vine. Yes, Mark was 
 very happy in his garden. Veronica could not 
 (juite reach to Mark's enthusiasm. Hers was a 
 mind of another stamp; but she loved flowers 
 and the work they involved, and she spent 
 many happy and healthful hours in weeding 
 and trimming, in transplanting and layering, 
 in training Virginia creepers and convolvulus 
 in the way they should go. Rosy toddled 
 ajjout after mamma, dug in her own peculiar 
 corner, exclaimed, "Pretty ! pretty !" over every 
 new blossom, and imagined she was making 
 herself useful in picking up sticks and drag- 
 ging away stones in her little cart. 
 
 Veronica, whila working in the garden, had 
 several times noticed a thin, odd-looking child, 
 some six or seven years old, peeping through 
 the open fence which bounded the bottom of 
 the garden. Happening one day to be at work 
 close by, she entered into conversation with the 
 child, and asked her name. 
 
 "Nelly Wicks," was the reply. Veronica 
 recognized the name as belonging to a poor, 
 unfortunate Scotchman, a man of some literary 
 pretensions: and some real talent, who had
 
 146 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 fallen from one grade of dissipation to another, 
 and finally died a victim to brandy. He had 
 left a wife and three children, the oldest of 
 whom was supporting himself respectably in a 
 printing-office. Mark had procured the place 
 for him ; and the lad had persisted in accepting 
 it, much to the disgust of his father and 
 mother, who suffered from that sort of gen- 
 tility which considers all mechanical employ- 
 ment vulgar. The second child was little 
 Nelly, and there was a younger child about 
 three years old. Mrs. Wicks was supported 
 partly by a small annuity paid her by her hus- 
 band's family, partly by fine work and knit- 
 ting, which she did very skilfully when she 
 could make up her mind to do it at all. 
 
 "And how old are you, Nelly?" asked Ve- 
 ronica, continuing the conversation. 
 
 " Six," replied Nelly; "and Molly is three." 
 
 "Do you love flowers, Nelly?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, very much." 
 
 "Would you like to come into the garden 
 and see the flowers?" Nelly's eyes sparkled. 
 " Well, you may come; but you must be care- 
 ful not to touch any thing." 
 
 This was the first of Nelly's visits. The 
 next day she came again, and brought with
 
 NELLY. 147 
 
 her Molly, a pretty but spoiled little imp, as 
 pert as Nelly was shy and timid. Veronica 
 watched them closely without appearing to do 
 so, and presently she saw Molly pull off a rose- 
 bud. 
 
 "Don't, Molly! You mustn't touch the 
 lady's flowers/' said Nelly. 
 
 "I will, too!" screamed Molly. "I will 
 have a flower ! I'll tell mother." 
 
 " Hush, hush !" said Veronica : " that will 
 never do. Molly, if you touch my flowers I 
 shall send you out of the garden." 
 
 Molly screamed louder, and Veronica, taking 
 her in her arms, set her over the fence into her 
 own premises. Molly ran roaring to her mother, 
 who presently appeared, calling Nelly in a 
 tone of voice which of itself was enough to 
 drive the best child in the world into thoughts 
 of rebellion. No sooner was the child within 
 reach than she was greeted with a box on the 
 ear which nearly threw her down. 
 
 "You wicked child! How dare you push 
 your little sister down and kick her?" 
 
 "I didn't!" sobbed Nelly. "She wanted 
 to pick the lady's flowers." 
 
 " Don't talk to me, you bad child ! don't !" 
 said Mrs. Wicks, for the first time perceiving 
 
 13
 
 148 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 that she had an auditor. " Nelly is a very 
 naughty child, ma'am," she continued, address- 
 ing herself to Veronica. " She makes me a 
 great deal of trouble." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it," replied Veronica. 
 " However, she certainly was not to blame in 
 this case. She only attempted, by the gentlest 
 means, to prevent Molly from picking my 
 flowers." 
 
 " She slapped me and kicked me !" cried 
 Molly. 
 
 " She neither slapped nor kicked you," said 
 Veronica. " I am afraid you are a naughty 
 girl, since you tell lies about your little sister." 
 
 " Molly is only a baby," said Mrs. Wicks. 
 " We do not expect her to have much sense; but 
 Nelly is old enough to know better, and she is 
 a very bad child. Her poor, dear papa often 
 said so." 
 
 "He didn't!" sobbed Nelly. "Papa was 
 good to me." 
 
 "You see for yourself, ma'am. But come 
 into the house this minute, Nelly, and do your 
 sewing. Come, darling" (to Molly) : " mamma 
 will give her a piece of cake." 
 
 " I won't !" roared Molly. "I want to go 
 in the lady's garden."
 
 NELLY. 149 
 
 "I cannot have you in my garden/' said 
 Veronica. "I never allow children in ray 
 garden who meddle with what does not be- 
 long to them." 
 
 Molly went off crying, and for a day or two 
 Veronica saw no more of either of the chil- 
 dren. 
 
 After a while, however, Nelly was again seen 
 peeping through the gate, and Veronica in- 
 vited her in. Presently Molly came also, de- 
 manding admittance. 
 
 " No," said Veronica : " I never have med- 
 dling children about me; and I will tell you 
 another thing, Molly: if you cry, I will never 
 let you come into the garden again, as long as 
 you live." 
 
 Molly's roar stopped as suddenly as a 
 stream of water when the faucet is turned. 
 She remained looking wistfully through the 
 gate, till Veronica, having finished her labours, 
 said to Nelly, 
 
 "I am going in now : so you had better run 
 home. Here are some flowers for you; and 
 here is one for you, Molly." 
 
 Molly took the offered marigold and ran 
 off with a beaming face to show it to her 
 mother. She seemed to find the new sensation
 
 150 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 of being good rather an agreeable one; for she 
 returned the next day, and, being allowed to 
 come in, behaved as well as possible, running 
 about after Veronica and Rosy, and chatting 
 to them both as good-naturedly as possible 
 till Nelly came after her. Then she made 
 up a face to cry; but a warning look from Ve- 
 ronica restrained her, and she went off quietly 
 enough. 
 
 It soon became an established custom for 
 the children to visit the garden every evening. 
 Mrs. Wicks seemed rather pleased by Vero- 
 nica's notice of them, and even attempted to 
 establish a gossiping sort of intimacy, an 
 attempt which was not in the least encouraged. 
 Mark did not at all relish her familiarities; 
 and one evening, as she bolted into the sitting- 
 room without knocking, he asked her, rather 
 significantly, 
 
 " Is the bell out of order, Mrs. Wicks ? I 
 did not hear you ring." 
 
 Mrs. Wicks took the hint, and the next 
 time rang the bell. Becky went to the door. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Campion at home ?" asked Mrs. 
 Wicks. 
 
 " Yes : she is at home, but she is busy," 
 said Becky, with whom Mrs. Wicks was no
 
 NELLY. 151 
 
 favourite. " Did you want any thing in par- 
 ticular?" 
 
 " Xo, nothing in particular," replied Mrs. 
 Wicks, rather taken aback ; " only to sit 
 a while. Is my Nelly here?" 
 
 " Yes ; she's sitting on the back-steps, having 
 a quiet, comfortable time," said Becky. "You 
 had better leave her alone, unless you want 
 her particularly ." 
 
 " No ; I don't want her if she is not in mis- 
 chief. She is such a bad child that I am 
 never h'easy about her a minute." 
 
 " Then you had better leave her alone ; for 
 she is as good as possible here," returned 
 Becky; and, so saying, she shut the door. 
 
 Mrs. Wicks had also certain principles 
 which regulated her family government, one 
 of which was a kind of reversal of the old law 
 of primogeniture. The youngest child for the 
 time-being could do no wrong. He was an 
 absolute monarch, to whom every one else, and 
 especially his elder brothers and sisters, were 
 to bow down in absolute submission. Each 
 of the children in turn had enjoyed this dan- 
 gerous eminence, had been indulged in all sorts 
 of mischief, and laughed at and applauded for 
 every piece of impudence. As soon as another 
 
 13*
 
 152 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 baby canie, the last monarch was dethroned, 
 and soon found himself snubbed and punished 
 for the very tricks which he had been taught 
 to think pretty and cunning. Mrs. Wicks's 
 other grand principle was that children were 
 always to be found fault with, and never on 
 any account to be praised, especially before 
 strangers. Every visitor she had, was enter- 
 tained with an account of Nelly's misdeeds, 
 especially if the little girl were in the room, till 
 many people pitied the poor woman extremely, 
 for having such a graceless child. Two un- 
 fortunate consequences resulted from this sys- 
 tem. One was that the child, finding herself 
 equally blamed whether she did well or ill, 
 soon made up her mind that there was no use 
 in trying to please her mother, and that she 
 might just as well take her own way and 
 please herself. The other consequence Vero- 
 nica herself remarked to Mrs. Wicks one day 
 when that wise woman had been more than 
 usually diffuse before a lady who came to order 
 some work. 
 
 " Mrs. Wicks," said she, when Nelly left the 
 room, " do you ever reflect that you are esta- 
 blishing a bad reputation for that child, which 
 she will never get over ?"
 
 153 
 
 Mrs. Wicks looked a little scared. 
 
 " You tell every one what a bad child she 
 is," continued Veronica. " Presently you will 
 lead people to think she is quite a monster of 
 iniquity; and you will find the character will 
 stick to her in such a way as seriously to affect 
 her prospects in life. Suppose you were to be 
 taken away suddenly : who would be willing 
 to give Nelly a home?" 
 
 "Nelly does not care any thing about being 
 scolded," said Mrs. Wicks, " but it does shame 
 her a little to be found fault with before com- 
 pany." 
 
 " And how long do you think that will 
 last? But, Mrs. Wicks, since blame does 
 Nelly no good, suppose you try a little praise. 
 That would be a novelty, and would perhaps 
 answer a good purpose." 
 
 But Mrs. Wicks thought it would never do 
 to praise children. They always presumed 
 upon it, and Nelly was sure to do so. She 
 was a very cold-hearted child, and did not 
 love her little sister in the least. Veronica 
 thought it no wonder that Nelly did not love 
 her sister, seeing how the child was allowed to 
 interfere in every way with her comfort, to 
 spoil her playthings, tear her books, and pound
 
 154 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 her on the least provocation, besides being 
 encouraged to tell tales of her on every occa- 
 sion. There was, however, no use in talk- 
 ing to Mrs. Wicks, who was wiser in her own 
 conceit than ten men who could render a 
 reason : so Veronica contented herself with 
 affording Nelly as many happy hours as pos- 
 sible within her own premises. The child 
 needed very little to make her happy. She 
 was perfectly contented with being allowed to 
 creep into the parlour in the twilight after 
 Rosy was in bed, and sit at Veronica's feet, 
 sometimes fondling her hands, and now and 
 then asking some odd question, which showed 
 how full and running over with thoughts was 
 her little, untaught mind. Presently Mark 
 began to notice the shy little girl, to answer 
 her questions, and to talk to her in the peculiarly 
 quiet and soothing strain which he so well un- 
 derstood. Nelly had been considered rather a 
 dunce in school ; she had not got on well with 
 her books ; and, on inquiry, Veronica found she 
 had never learned to w T rite. 
 
 " You are not going to school now, Nelly," 
 said she. " If you like to come over every 
 morning at nine o'clock, I will give you a 
 writing- lesson and hear you spell, and we will
 
 NELLY. 155 
 
 see if we cannot get a good start before school 
 begins again." 
 
 Nelly joyfully assented, and made her ap- 
 pearance punctually at the time appointed. 
 She acquitted herself very well for some days, 
 and went home quite happy. The third or 
 fourth morning, Molly made her appearance, 
 and stayed all through the lesson-hour, effect- 
 ually distracting Nelly's attention. Veronica 
 took no notice the first day ; but the next morn- 
 ing, finding the same thing repeated, she said 
 to Nelly, 
 
 " Nelly, you must not bring Molly with 
 you when you come to say your lesson." 
 
 " Mother said I shouldn't come unless Molly 
 did, because Molly cried," said the child, hang- 
 ing her head. 
 
 " I cannot help that," said Veronica. "You 
 must tell your mother that I cannot have 
 Molly in the morning. She is quite too trou- 
 blesome, and hinders you from doing any thing 
 properly." 
 
 " I'll tell her what you say," replied Nelly ; 
 "but I 'most know she won't let me come 
 without Molly. I have finished my copy, Mrs. 
 Campion." 
 
 " That is very neatly done, Nelly. It is the
 
 156 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 best we have seen yet. You must have taken 
 great pains." 
 
 Nelly's pale face flushed and brightened, as 
 she answered, " I knew you would say it was 
 well done, because it was well done." 
 
 "Poor little young one!" said Becky, to 
 whom Veronica repeated Nelly's remark. 
 " She knows what justice is when she gets it, 
 anyhow. But what is the use of her trying 
 to do any thing at home ? That woman finds 
 fault with her whether she does right or wrong, 
 and the child has no motive to be good. She 
 does well enough over here, and minds with 
 the first word ; but she does misbehave at homo, 
 and no wonder." 
 
 "We must try by degrees to give her a 
 higher motive than any human praise, even 
 her mother's," said Veronica. "I remember 
 an anecdote that Daisy Brush told me, which 
 made a strong impression on me. Daisy was 
 talking to Chloe, the old negro woman who 
 took care of her, and who seems to have been 
 about her only friend, and lamenting the im- 
 possibility of pleasing Miss Brush, whatever 
 she did. 
 
 "'Honey,' said Chloe, 'you can't please her. 
 No one ever could please Miss Addy, no, not
 
 NELLY. 157 
 
 an angel from heaven ; and the heavenlier he 
 was, the worse she would treat him. When I 
 first came here, I used to wear my heart out 
 trying to suit her; and the more I tried, the 
 more she aggravated me, till I used to think 
 she would drive me out of my mind. Finally, 
 one day, I thought to myself, There's no use 
 in trying to please Miss Addy, 'cause she won't 
 be pleased, nohow; but there's One I can 
 please, 'cause He sees my heart and He knows 
 what I try to do. So I left off trying to please 
 Miss Addy, and went to work with all my 
 might to please God and do what I thought 
 he'd like.' 
 
 " ' And did that do her any good ?' asked 
 Daisy. 
 
 " ' No, honey ; I can't say it did ; but it 
 did me a sight of good, and I've felt better 
 ever since.' " 
 
 " Poor old soul !" said Becky. " I wonder 
 what I should* do if I were in her place? I 
 wonder which would have the worst time, 
 me or my mistress ?"
 
 158 
 
 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 /E must now pass hastily over three 
 or four years in the life of our 
 friends in South Street and on the 
 Avenue, and proceed to a period 
 of more importance. 
 
 Mark's book passed through more 
 editions, and the second part was eagerly 
 looked for and heartily welcomed. The 
 increase of fame brought with it an equally 
 agreeable increase of fortune; and, Mark's time 
 being fully taken up with such work as he liked 
 best, he gave up much of the drudgery which 
 had heretofore occupied him, and spent a great 
 deal of his time at home. 
 
 The new library had already lost its look of 
 newness, and the shelves which looked so bare 
 and empty when first put up were crowded 
 three-deep with volumes of all sorts and sizes. 
 The dwarf pear-trees in the new garden had
 
 DEATH. 159 
 
 come into fine bearing; while the raspberry and 
 strawberry plantations reproved Anne's want 
 of faith by full crops of berries. 
 
 Rosy had grown, with every thing else. She 
 was now shooting up into a tall girl, getting 
 her second teeth, and losing much of her re- 
 markable infantine beauty. Despite Anne's 
 predictions, despite Veronica's shocking pre- 
 sumption in teaching the child to read at four 
 years old, and to write at five, Rosy was neither 
 rickety nor hump-backed, neither idiotic nor 
 epileptic. On the contrary, her health, natu- 
 rally delicate, had constantly improved under 
 her mother's careful nursing, till she was now 
 as healthy and sturdy as any child in the city. 
 Growing up in an atmosphere of books, she of 
 course "took to them," as Becky said, from 
 her earliest years. She was not more than 
 three years old when she announced her inten- 
 tion to make books like papa ; and, as she could 
 not use a pen, she was constantly begging her 
 mother or Becky to write down her stories for 
 her. All her tales were of course highly moral, 
 and inflicted terrific punishment upon offenders, 
 as in the case of the wicked boy who would 
 throw stones at the chickens, and was after- 
 wards carried off and devoured by ostriches, 
 
 14
 
 160 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 they being the biggest birds with which Rosy 
 was acquainted. 
 
 After she learned to read, books were a 
 never-failing source of enjoyment to her. 
 Becky had early made her acquainted with 
 some of her own favourites in prose and verse; 
 and "The Lady of the Lake," "The Minstrel/' 
 "The Pilgrim's Progress," and " Bishop He- 
 ber's Journals," afforded Rosy new delight 
 when she came to study them for herself. Of 
 course, much was not understood ; but Vero- 
 nica had an idea that it did not hurt children 
 to read books beyond their comprehension. 
 Rosy's juvenile library was a very large one, 
 thanks to the liberality of Mr. Clarendon, 
 Mark's partner, who never allowed her to visit 
 the store without giving her the choice of a 
 large assortment of books ; and her favourites 
 were read and re-read until fairly worn out. 
 
 Veronica had taught her to take good care 
 of her books; and the few torn pages and bat- 
 tered covers were mostly due to Kitty, whose 
 lawlessness was not always to be restrained 
 even by Aunt Veronica. 
 
 Rosy had never been to school, as her mother 
 had plenty of time to bestow upon her at home. 
 She had never been driven, and she had en-
 
 DEATH. 161 
 
 
 
 joyed a great deal of out-of-door exercise ; yet 
 at eight years old she could read as well as 
 any one, write a tolerable hand, spell most 
 common words correctly (a somewhat rare ac- 
 complishment in these days, by the way), and 
 she had begun to learn lessons in mental 
 arithmetic and grammar. The latter study, 
 usually so dry and wearisome to children, Ve- 
 ronica taught her by word of mouth ; and Rosy 
 could point out the nouns, verbs, and adjectives 
 in a sentence, could tell whether the verbs were 
 regular or irregular, and what they governed, 
 long before she had even looked into a gram- 
 mar. Her lesson-times were short, rarely ex- 
 ceeding fifteen or twenty minutes at one time; 
 but Veronica tolerated no trifling, and insisted 
 upon Rosy's bestowing her full powers of mind 
 on the subject for the time-being. It is not to 
 be supposed that all these lessons were gotten 
 over without some trouble on both sides. 
 Rosy was sometimes idle and sometimes care- 
 less, and now and then required a certain 
 amount of coercion, as most children do; but, 
 on the whole, the tasks were a source of enjoy- 
 ment to both pupil and teacher. 
 
 The little girl's moral and religious educa- 
 tion advanced at the same time with that of 
 L
 
 162 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 her mind. As we have seen, she early learned 
 to obey with a word or look. She had been 
 taught, as soon as she could walk, to exert 
 her small strength for the benefit of others, 
 and to find pleasure in so doing. Her first 
 patch-work resulted in a kettle-holder for Miss 
 Brown, and a chair-cushion for Aunt Phoebe 
 Ray, an old coloured woman who was a fre- 
 quent and welcome visitor in Becky's kitchen. 
 Her pennies were hoarded to buy Christmas- 
 presents for everybody; and she found much 
 more pleasure in laying them out in this way 
 than she would have done in spending them 
 selfishly upon herself. She was taught to tell 
 the truth on the smallest occasion, to be polite 
 and kind to every one, whether rich or poor, to 
 study the comfort of those about her, and to 
 deny herself for their sakes. 
 
 As soon as Rosy was old enough to speak, 
 long before she could speak plainly, Veronica 
 taught her to say her prayers, and to know to 
 whom she was speaking. Mark was never so 
 busy that he did not spare half an hour before 
 Rosy's bedtime, to take her in his arms and 
 talk to her, in gentle, reverent tones, of her 
 Father in heaven, who gave her all that she 
 loved, of the dear Saviour, the Son of God,
 
 DEATH. 163 
 
 who came down to earth and died and rose 
 again for her salvation ; of the Holy Spirit, to 
 whom she must look for help against her sins, 
 and comfort in her sorrows. All the great 
 realities of our holy religion were so early im- 
 pressed on Rosy's memory that she could not 
 recollect when she had not known something 
 of them ; and Mark's earnest, living spirit of 
 devotion made his instructions realities. This 
 twilight hour was very precious to Rosy and 
 to Rosy's papa, and served to draw closer the 
 bond between them. If the little one had 
 done any thing wrong during the day, it was 
 confessed at this time, with tears and promises 
 of amendment ; if she had met with any trou- 
 ble, it was then poured into papa's ready ear, 
 sure to meet with sympathy and comfort. It 
 was not always by any means convenient for 
 Mark to spare this half-hour; but he would 
 have sacrificed a great deal, rather than have 
 given up his particular share in his little 
 daughter's education. 
 
 It is not to be supposed, with all this, that 
 Rosy was altogether a faultless child. She 
 was sometimes idle and sometimes careless ; she 
 had rather a quick temper, and she was prone 
 somewhat to dwell upon and brood over small
 
 164 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 offences and troubles. Nevertheless, she was 
 a very good little girl, and her early-acquired 
 habits of amusing herself independently and 
 letting other people's things alone made her 
 an unusually pleasant child to live with. 
 
 Anne's training, like Veronica's, had pro- 
 duced its legitimate results, and Kitty at eight 
 years old was pronounced, by all her acquaint- 
 ances, the most thoroughly spoiled child in 
 the city. A little torment, an intolerable 
 nuisance, she was called by the servants and 
 visitors; and such she undoubtedly was. Anne 
 had always made herself a slave to Kitty, at- 
 tending assiduously to all her motions, grati- 
 fying her every whim, no matter at what in- 
 convenience to herself, and allowing the child 
 to find fault with and criticize her to her 
 heart's content. Everybody and every thing 
 in the house was made to give way to Kitty. 
 Whatever she wanted, that she had, if it was 
 to be found ; if not, some substitute must be 
 provided. If she flew into a passion, she was 
 to be coaxed into good humour again ; if she 
 cried, she was to be pacified ; if she conde- 
 scended to learn at all, she was to be praised 
 and petted as though she had performed some- 
 thing marvellous ; if she refused to learn, she
 
 DEATH. 165 
 
 was not to be driven, for fear she should be 
 led to dislike study, or lest her health should 
 be injured by over-application. 
 
 Anne hoped by all this indulgence to win 
 the child's love, and, as she said, influence her 
 by the means of her affections ; but she made 
 a singular mistake. Kitty had very little re- 
 gard for her mother, and no respect whatever. 
 Tha following is a specimen of scenes which 
 were constantly occurring between the mother 
 and daughter. Kitty had been playing with 
 her blocks and dishes, and was going out of 
 the room, leaving them strewed all over the 
 carpet. 
 
 " Come, Kitty ; put your blocks away, like a 
 good girl." 
 
 "I don't want to." 
 
 "Oh, yes; put them away nicely. Kitty 
 will be a good, kind girl, and put the things 
 away for mamma: won't she?" 
 
 " I sha'n't. I want to go in the garden." 
 
 " Oh, I see: Kitty don't love mamma. Poor 
 mamma! Come, put away the things, and 
 mamma will read her a pretty story." 
 " I don't want a story. I want to go in the 
 garden." 
 
 " Well, I will show you papa's great book
 
 166 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 of animals. Doesn't Kitty want to see the 
 pretty squirrels and bears ?" 
 
 If the bribe was sufficient, Kitty would 
 sometimes condescend to do as she was en- 
 treated ; but more generally she went on her own 
 way, and the blocks were put up by some one 
 eke. Kitty was allowed to eat what she liked, 
 to get up and go to bed when she liked, to go 
 out or not when she pleased. She was never 
 taught to deny herself any gratification of her 
 appetite, lest she should attach too much im- 
 portance to eating and drinking, or to suppress 
 any speech, however impertinent or foolish, 
 lest she should learn to be artful. She was 
 never taught to have any care of her clothes 
 and playthings; and, indeed, the principal use 
 she made of her toys was to break them. 
 
 At eight years old, Kitty was thoughtless, 
 exacting, self-indulgent, and so thoroughly 
 blasee (I would use an English word if I could 
 find one which expressed my meaning so ex- 
 actly) to all sorts of indulgences and amuse- 
 ments, that no one of them could afford her 
 pleasure for more than a few minutes at a time. 
 She respected but three people in the world, 
 her father, and her uncle and aunt, all of whom 
 she found herself obliged to defer to. She
 
 DEATH. 167 
 
 loved her father and .Rosy dearly, and scarcely 
 any one else. Her health was injured by her 
 irregular hours and habits of eating, and, 
 like Rosy, she was fast losing her childish 
 beauty. 
 
 For a long time Anne could see nothing 
 but perfection in Kitty; but during the last 
 year or two her eyes had been a little opened. 
 She could not help observing the difference be- 
 tween the two girls whenever they were brought 
 together, and perceiving that the advantage was 
 not upon Kitty's side. At first this convic- 
 tion showed itself in pettishness towards Rosy 
 and her mother, and in a strong disposition 
 to magnify any little thing which the child said 
 or did amiss; but by degrees the pettishness 
 began to turn upon Kitty herself. Then came 
 an attempt to govern the child, to break her 
 spirit, as Anne phrased it. But Kitty's spirit, 
 not having been bent at the right time, was 
 hard to break now. Her will, like Rosy's, 
 was naturally strong; and, unlike Rosy's, it had 
 never been taught to give way. Kitty came 
 off conqueror in the struggle by dint of sheer 
 screaming and kicking; and, after a prolonged 
 contest, Anne was fain to purchase peace and 
 quietness by a double share of indulgence.
 
 168 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 But Anne's pride was now alarmed. It 
 could not be denied that Veronica's system 
 had succeeded in making Rosy a much more 
 agreeable child than Kitty, that she was more 
 forward, better-mannered, healthier, and, by 
 consequence, prettier. She made up her mind 
 that it was time to take Kitty seriously in 
 hand and break her in. 
 
 She did not find the task an easy one ; nor 
 was she particularly well qualified to perform 
 it, never having been very well broken in her- 
 self. Nevertheless did- she persevere in her 
 intention. The nursery now became the daily 
 scene of battles loud and long between Kitty 
 and her mother, the one commanding, the 
 other crying and resisting, till either Anne 
 grew tired and abandoned the contest, or 
 Kitty, subdued by sheer physical force of 
 shaking and whipping, did as she was told, to 
 be pitied, comforted, and secretly indulged by 
 Jane, as soon as her mother was out of sight, 
 and usually to rebel again at the first oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 Anne was not very judicious, and was just 
 as likely to provoke a battle about some per- 
 fectly indifferent matter as about a fault of 
 consequence. Then Kitty's offended sense of
 
 DEATH. 109 
 
 justice gave double force to her resistance, and 
 she was often perfectly frantic with rage, being 
 on one occasion only withheld by force from 
 throwing herself out of the window. 
 
 Treated in this way, Kitty grew sullen, sly, 
 and morose, and lost the few engaging qualities 
 she possessed. Anne began to find her trouble- 
 some, tiresome, a little plague, an ungrateful 
 child, and to talk seriously of sending her to 
 boarding-school. 
 
 From her father, Kitty was sure of receiving 
 even-handed justice; but, unfortunately for her, 
 Mr. Campion was from home a great part of 
 the time. He had been called to the pre- 
 sidency of a railroad company whose affairs 
 were sadly entangled, and which he was ex- 
 pected to put in order; for he was a man in 
 whose integrity and business capacity every one 
 placed the utmost confidence; and he found his 
 hands so full that he had very little time to 
 spend at home. 
 
 Kitty was always good and happy with her 
 father, whose will she had early learned was 
 law. All was sunshine when he appeared, and 
 he had, consequently, very little notion of how 
 matters were going between his wife and daugh- 
 ter. Whenever Kitty could obtain permission 
 p
 
 170 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 to spend the day with her aunt, she was satis- 
 fied; since Veronica, though she never unduly 
 indulged her, or allowed her to tyrannize over 
 Rosy, was always just and kind; but Anne's 
 jealousy of her sister-in-law had not decreased 
 with years, and was called into active exercise 
 by Kitty's affection for her: so that these 
 visits were not so frequent as formerly. Such 
 was the state of things at the time we resume 
 the thread of our tale. 
 
 Dinner was over in South Street. Mark 
 had assumed his favourite chair and his dress- 
 ing-gown ; but he did not seem to throw off 
 his cares as usual, but looked thoughtful and 
 anxious. Rosy, now promoted to the dignity 
 of sitting up till eight o'clock, was busy in a 
 corner with Nelly Wicks, setting out the doll's 
 table for a grand dinner-party; for she was 
 still very young in her enjoyments, and loved 
 her dolls as well as ever. Veronica's fingers 
 were busy with her knitting, and her eyes were 
 fixed thoughtfully on the fire. 
 
 " Veronica," said Mark, after an interval of 
 silence, " have you seen John lately ?" 
 
 "Not very lately, no!" replied Veronica, 
 rousing herself from her abstraction. " Now 
 I think of it, I have seen him only once in
 
 DEATH. 171 
 
 several weeks, and then only for a few minutes. 
 Pie is away a great deal, you know." 
 
 " Then you have not seen him since he came 
 home this last time ?" 
 
 "No. Why?" 
 
 " I think he's looking very unwell," said 
 Mark, gravely. " I fear lie is sadly overwork- 
 ing himself with this railroad business." 
 
 " T suppose it is very perplexing," returned 
 Veronica. " I noticed no change in him the 
 last time I met him, except that he seemed 
 rather more abstracted than usual." 
 
 " I went into the office to see him this after- 
 noon, and really I was startled," said Mark. 
 " He hardly seemed to know me till I spoke 
 to him, and his hand shook like an old man's. 
 I wish he could be prevailed upon to lay down 
 his business cares for a time and rest. He told 
 me this afternoon that his head often felt 
 strangely, and that he had been trying to see 
 the doctor, but had not found time." 
 
 Mark had hardly finished speaking, when 
 some one hastily opened the side door, and 
 Becky was heard to exclaim, in a tone of great 
 surprise, 
 
 " Why, Kitty, child, what brings you here at 
 this time of night?" 
 
 15
 
 172 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "What can be the matter?" asked Veronica, 
 turning pale, and rising to open the door; but, 
 before she reached it, Kitty rushed in, much 
 excited. 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Mark, do come to our house 
 directly ! papa is very sick, and mamma is not at 
 home!" And, overcome with grief, she burst 
 into hysterical sobs. 
 
 While Mark hastily assumed his coat and 
 boots, Veronica tried to soothe the child, and 
 to obtain from her some account of her father's 
 illness. 
 
 "Mamma went away to the concert, and 
 papa said he could not go, because his head 
 ached, and he wanted to be quiet; and he was 
 leaning back in his great chair, and when I 
 spoke to him he did not answer. And his 
 face looks dreadful, and he does not know any 
 thing at all !" 
 
 " Have you sent for the doctor ?" 
 
 "Yes: Charles went for him; but he did 
 not come back, and so I came after you." 
 
 "Can you come, Veronica ?" asked Mark. 
 She was ready in a moment. She would have 
 had Kitty remain with Rosy ; but the child was 
 not willing to stay away from her father, and 
 Veronica did not urge the point. They found
 
 DEATH. 173 
 
 the doctor at the house ; but there was nothing 
 to be done. The first attack had been the 
 fatal blow, and Anne arrived at home only in 
 time to see her husband breathe his last. 
 
 Kitty was like a mad creature. She had 
 never been taught to put any restraint upon 
 herself, and she loved her father better than 
 any thing else in the world. Veronica tried 
 to quiet her by telling her how much she would 
 increase her mother's grief; but Kitty had 
 never been taught to consider other people's 
 feelings, and the argument had nO weight with 
 her. She clung to her father's body, struck 
 furiously at those who approached her, and was 
 finally carried away by main force and put to 
 bed. At last, exhausted by the violence of her 
 emotions, she sobbed herself to sleep. 
 
 Anne's grief was almost as violent as Kitty's, 
 and, as usual, she sought relief in thinking some 
 one was to blame. She could not believe but 
 that something might have been done, and she 
 alternately reproached Mark, the doctor, her- 
 self for being absent, and John for not having 
 told her how ill he was. Veronica listened 
 and soothed, with unvarying gentleness and 
 patience, till at last Anne seemed struck with 
 some sense of her own ungraciousness.
 
 174 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 " It is too bad for me to keep yon up, Vero- 
 nica,. I know, of course, that you and Mark 
 did all that you could ; but it does seem so 
 hard that he should be taken so suddenly with- 
 out any time for preparation or any thing. 
 And what will people think of me? being 
 away at a concert when my husband was 
 dying !" 
 
 "Every one will know how sudden the at- 
 tack was," said Veronica, soothingly; "and as 
 for preparation, Anne, I hope and trust that 
 John's was not put off till a dying hour." 
 
 " No : I didn't mean that," sobbed Anne. 
 "He was always good and religious, always; 
 but, then, to think of his leaving his affairs 
 all unsettled, and I don't know any thing about 
 business, and I shall be left so lonely !" 
 
 " There is Kitty, you know," said Veronica. 
 "Poor child, she has been almost beside her- 
 self!" 
 
 "Yes; she loved him dearly. She would 
 always mind him when she did not care for 
 any one else. Where is she? I want her 
 with me." 
 
 " She is asleep," replied Veronica. " I hardly 
 think it will be safe to wake her." 
 
 But Anne, like Kitty, had never learned to
 
 DEATH. 175 
 
 control herself. She insisted upon going to 
 see the child, awaked her by her sobs, and 
 then, as Veronica had foreseen, there was a 
 repetition of the distressing scene. She was at 
 last obliged to call Mark, who, exerting the 
 authority which he well knew how to assume, 
 sent Anne to bed in one room and Kitty in 
 another, holding the little girl in her arms till 
 she fell asleep. When she awoke, the violence 
 of her grief seemed to have passed off ; but it 
 was replaced by a settled melancholy, painful 
 to witness in so young a child. She wept no 
 more, but moped silently about the house, un- 
 able to amuse or employ herself, and keeping as 
 much as possible out of the way of her mother, 
 whose bursts of weeping seemed to irritate her 
 beyond endurance. She rejected, ungraciously 
 enough, her aunt's offer to take her home or to 
 bring Rosy to keep her company, and seemed 
 to find her only consolation in sitting in her 
 father's room and turning over and arranging 
 his little pieces of personal property, the seals 
 and pens upon his desk, and the eye-glass, 
 cigar-case, and smoking-apparatus, which he 
 had been used to keep on a little table by his 
 arm-chair. 
 
 "There is a wonderful intensity of character 
 15*
 
 176 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 in that little thing," said Mark to Veronica, 
 one day. "It seems as if almost any thing 
 might be made of her, if one only knew where 
 to begin." 
 
 " She has great force of character," replied 
 Veronica; "and therein lies my one hope for 
 her. If she were a fool, I should say she was 
 thoroughly spoiled ; but I hope she may yet 
 have sense enough to correct her own errors. 
 The worst thing about her is the selfishness in 
 which she has been systematically trained. She 
 cares for nothing and nobody but herself, now 
 that her father is gone. I fear she has a great 
 deal of trouble before her, poor child; for, be- 
 tween ourselves, I doubt Anne's having much 
 patience with her faults, now they have become 
 troublesome, even though they are in a great 
 measure the work of her own hands." 
 
 " Kitty is losing her beauty, too," observed 
 Mark. " How very thin and dark she has 
 grown !" 
 
 " She will outgrow that," replied Veronica. 
 " I think she will turn out a very handsome 
 woman." 
 
 " Where is she now ?" 
 
 "Sitting in John's room, keeping watch over 
 his property. She will not allow the house-
 
 DEATH. 177 
 
 maid to touch any thing, but has fairly tired 
 herself out in attempting to sweep and dust 
 the room herself. I told them to let her have 
 her own way; for I thought exercise the best 
 thing for her. Poor child ! she may well mourn, 
 for she has lost her best friend, one on whom 
 she might have relied through all changes. 
 John's faithfulness was one of his strong points. 
 He was as firm as a rock."
 
 178 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 
 
 JOHN'S affairs turned out to be in 
 perfect order. His property was 
 much larger than any one sup- 
 posed, and all was well and pro- 
 fitably invested. His will, dated very 
 soon after his marriage, left twcnty- 
 five thousand dollars to his mother, the 
 same sum to Mark, a thousand dollars 
 and a small house in the suburbs to " my old 
 and respected friend Miss Rebecca Owen," 
 various large legacies to the different charitable 
 institutions in the city, and the remainder, 
 amounting to more than ninety thousand dol- 
 lars, to his wife. There was a codicil, dated 
 nearly seven years back, by which ten thou- 
 sand dollars was left to Kitty under Mr. 
 Clarendon's guardianship ; but it was not 
 signed. 
 
 "He must have written it immediately after
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 179 
 
 the conversation we had upon the subject," 
 said Mark. " I am very sorry it was not 
 signed." 
 
 "Do you think it a good plan to make 
 children independent of their parents?" asked 
 Mr. Clarendon, who was one of the executors. 
 
 " Not usually ; but the present case is rather 
 a peculiar one." 
 
 M;\ Clarendon looked over his glasses, and 
 nodded two or three times significantly. " You 
 mean that Mrs. Campion is a young and 
 pretty woman, and, the property being left 
 altogether in her own power, she is likely 
 
 enough to " Another significant nod closed 
 
 the sentence. 
 
 Mark nodded in return. "There is one 
 thing about it," said he. " I shall now be 
 able to make a home for Kitty, if any thing 
 should occur to render it necessary." 
 
 " Well, Mark, I must say that's very un- 
 selfish in you. Kitty is a thoroughly spoiled 
 little monkey. I don't think I ever saw her 
 match. I should not like to be the one to 
 undertake her." 
 
 " My wife has a great knack at managing 
 children," said Mark; "and Kitty has so much 
 sense and force at the bottom of all her faults,
 
 180 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 that I cannot think hers a hopeless case. How- 
 ever, there is no use in borrowing trouble." 
 
 Anne was considerably disappointed in her 
 husband's will. She had made up her mind 
 that every thing would be left to her, and, 
 though she was certainly very well provided 
 for, having an income of over six thousand a 
 year, she felt herself very much aggrieved that 
 so large a share of her husband's property 
 should have been given to Mrs. Campion and 
 Mark. 
 
 " I can't understand it at all," she said to 
 Mr. Clarendon. "John never had any opinion 
 of Mark as a business man; and it passes my 
 comprehension how he could have been willing 
 to put such a large sum of money into his 
 hands." 
 
 " Mark is not exactly a money-making man, 
 though he has made a very pretty sum out of 
 that book of his," observed Mr. Clarendon; 
 " but, as far as punctuality and exactness go, 
 he is as good a business man as I know any- 
 where. I never yet depended upon him for 
 any thing and found myself disappointed." 
 
 " Of course you are bound to stand up for 
 him, since you are his partner," retorted Anne. 
 " No doubt he will show his business capacity
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 181 
 
 by putting all his money into the firm at once. 
 But I suppose there is no help for it. The 
 will is legal, and all that?" 
 
 "Perfectly so," replied Mr. Clarendon, 
 calmly. "Mr. Campion was not the man to 
 do such business carelessly. I cannot imagine 
 how he came to leave the addition to his will 
 unsigned." 
 
 " I am very glad he did," said Anne. 
 " Kitty is quite trouble enough as it is, without 
 her being left independent of me. I have no 
 doubt that was Mark's doing, and that he ex- 
 pected to be the child's guardian. I remember 
 hearing him talking to John about some such 
 matter, the night John made such a fuss about 
 Kitty's dress. I am heartily glad he is dis- 
 appointed in his calculation. Well, I must 
 make up my mind to retrench, to give up 
 my carriage and live in a little house in a 
 back street for the rest of my life. It is very 
 hard, after having been always led to expect 
 something so different ; but I suppose I must 
 submit." 
 
 " There is no necessity for your making any 
 such sacrifices at present," replied Mr. Claren- 
 don. "You are borrowing trouble at very 
 large interest, my dear madam."
 
 182 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " I think I shall sell this house, at any rate," 
 said Anne. "I shall never think of under- 
 taking all the trouble of housekeeping by my- 
 self." 
 
 "I would not be in a hurry about that, 
 either. It is much more easy to break up 
 than to settle again ; and you will hardly find 
 another home so pleasant and complete as 
 this." 
 
 " It will never be pleasant again to me, 
 never," said Anne, weeping. " Every thing 
 is so changed ; and I cannot bear the thought 
 of remaining where I have been so happy. 
 In fact, I made up my mind directly that I 
 should sell this house, even if I should buy 
 another. These rooms are so old-fashioned." 
 
 Mr. Clarendon smiled gravely, but made no 
 reply. He had not a high opinion of Mrs. 
 Campion's sense, and he never considered it 
 worth his while to argue with Avomen. 
 
 It soon appeared that Anne was quite in 
 earnest about breaking up housekeeping. A 
 purchaser was easily found for the house, which 
 was a very fine one, and desirable in every 
 respect, though rather old-fashioned; and, after 
 casting nbotit for a boarding-place without 
 finding one to suit her, Anne finally decided
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 183 
 
 to go to New York for the winter. Governed 
 by the feeling of jealousy, which had lately 
 increased upon her, she said nothing whatever 
 to Mark and Veronica till the matter was all 
 settled. Mark might have heard of it from 
 Mr. Clarendon, but he had lately been very 
 closely confined at home, making preparations 
 for his new volume. The first news came 
 from Kitty, who did not fancy the changes at 
 all. 
 
 " Only think, auntie !" said she, one day, 
 coming into the garden, where Veronica was 
 busy over her bulbs. " Mamma has been and 
 sold our house to Mr. Stanton, and they are 
 going to live in it. Isn't it too bad ?" 
 
 "Why, Kitty! Has she sold the house?" 
 asked Veronica, in great surprise. " I think 
 that can hardly be. Are you sure?" 
 
 " Quite, quite sure," replied Kitty, shaking 
 her head sorrowfully. " I think it is too bad. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Stanton are there now, going all 
 over the house, and talking about making 
 alterations in papa's room, and all," she added, 
 bursting into tears. " I can't bear to have 
 them go into papa's room; and I won't have 
 that ugly Mr. Stanton sit in papa's chair and 
 smoke. I have a great mind to set fire to the 
 ifi
 
 184 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 house and burn it all down, so that they can- 
 not have it !" 
 
 " Hush, hush, Kitty ! That is a very wrong 
 way of talking. You would not do any thing 
 so wicked, I am sure." 
 
 " I don't care !" cried Kitty, who had worked 
 herselY up into one of those frantic fits which 
 Veronica especially dreaded. " He shall not 
 have papa's chair, and mamma is wicked to 
 talk of selling it to him. I told her so, and 
 she only laughed at me, and told me to stay in 
 the nursery ; but I wouldn't. I just ran away, 
 and came down here." 
 
 " Without asking ?" said Rosy, opening her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Never mind, Rosy," interposed Veronica. 
 "Kitty, you should not have come without 
 asking; but, now you are here, you may stay 
 and help me, if you will be good and stop cry- 
 ing. Come, now, be quiet at once." 
 
 There was something in Veronica's voice 
 which always influenced Kitty, even in her 
 wildest mood. She made a brave effort to 
 check her sobs. Presently Veronica found em- 
 ployment for her and Rosy in carrying away the 
 dried tops of the lilies and portulaccas which 
 she 1 had pulled up ; and before long the little
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 185 
 
 girls were laughing gayly over their work and 
 seeing which could carry the biggest basketful. 
 In the midst of the fun, Anne's carriage 
 stopped at the gate, and Anne herself came 
 in. She had never been at the house before 
 since John's death. She looked very pretty 
 and youthful, in her deep and fashionable 
 weeds; and her face was composed to the pro- 
 per expression of solemnity. Both voice and 
 face changed, however, as she caught sight of 
 Kitty, whose black frock was certainly not 
 improved in appearance by her gardening ope- 
 rations. 
 
 " Kitty, you naughty child ! How did you 
 come here, and what have you been about? 
 You look like a little beggar-girl !" 
 
 " Kitty has been helping me in the garden," 
 said Veronica. " It is only loose dust, Anne, 
 which will easily brush off. I saw that she 
 had on an old frock before I set her to work." 
 
 " Not so very old, either. She has only had 
 it three months," said Anne ; " though no one 
 could ever guess so to see the state it is in, 
 spotted from top to bottom. You are a pig, 
 Kitty ! Why can't you be neat, like Rosy ?" 
 
 " I don't care," returned Kitty, sullenly. 
 "I can't help it,"
 
 186 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "Yes, that is your motto! ' Don't care/ in- 
 deed ! What do you think your poor papa 
 would say to see you such a naughty girl ?" 
 
 " Go to Becky, Kitty, and ask her to brush 
 your dress clean and wash your face and 
 hajids," interposed Veronica, dreading another 
 outburst from Kitty. " The fault was mine, 
 Anne, I assure you," she added, as the chil- 
 dren went away together. " Kitty seemed to 
 feel so unhappy, that I set her to work as the 
 best means of diverting her. She tells me 
 that you have sold your house. Was not that 
 rather a sudden move on your part ?" 
 
 " No," replied Anne ; " not sudden at all. 
 I have been thinking about it ever since Mr. 
 Campion died. With my reduced income, it is 
 necessary for me to be economical." 
 
 Anne was fond of talking about her reduced 
 income, and she had repeated the phrase so 
 many times that she really began to believe in 
 it herself. 
 
 "Mr. Clarendon told me he did not think 
 any particular economy would be necessary on 
 your part," observed Veronica. 
 
 "I wish Mr. Clarendon would not gossip 
 about my aifairs," was the reply. 
 
 " There was no gossip in the matter," said
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 187 
 
 Veronica, determined not to be ruffled. "As 
 your nearest relations, I suppose he thought 
 we would be interested to understand your 
 affairs. I hope you get a good price for your 
 house, since you feel obliged to sell it?" 
 
 " Eight thousand," said Anne. " Mr. Qla- 
 rcndon seems satisfied; though I really think 
 he might have got more if he had tried." 
 
 "And what do you mean to do now?" 
 
 " Break up and go to boarding. Indeed, I 
 have pretty much made up my mind to go to 
 New York for the winter. I need a change; 
 and Kitty ought to have better educational 
 advantages than she has here." 
 
 " Better educational advantages for a child 
 who can scarcely read !" thought Veronica; but 
 she said nothing, and Anne continued: 
 
 " I shall send her to school, perhaps to 
 boarding-school. She is growing very trouble- 
 some, and needs stricter discipline than my 
 health and spirits are equal to." And Anne 
 heaved a proper and becoming sigh. 
 
 " It will come rather hard upon her," Ve- 
 ronica could not help saying. " She has been 
 used to so much liberty all her life." 
 
 " She has been used to a great deal too much 
 liberty," replied Anne, fretfully. "Her poor, 
 
 16*
 
 188 * THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 dear papa always spoiled her so. She carried 
 on so this morning that I was perfectly ashamed 
 of her. I am sure I have done every thing in 
 the world for her ; and it is rather hard to have 
 her tell me, before strangers, that she did not 
 love me a bit, as she did before Mr. and Mrs. 
 Stanton to-day." 
 
 " I should not allow children to make such 
 speeches," said Veronica, remembering how 
 often Kitty had been allowed to say the same 
 thing unreproved when she was a little child, 
 lest she should be made insincere by restraint. 
 " They do not seem to matter so much when 
 children are young; but they have a different 
 sound at Kitty's age." 
 
 " Well, I can't help that now," returned 
 Anne. " She is as she is, and I must make the 
 best of her. I never saw a child alter as she 
 has done during the last two years. It is all 
 the fault of my own good nature in taking 
 Kitty and letting you have Rosy. I never do 
 make a sacrifice but I have reason to repent. 
 However, that is neither here nor there. I 
 came to see if you would like to take some of 
 my furniture in case I sell it." ; 
 
 "Mark would like the furniture of John's 
 room, I know," replied Veronica. "As to the
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 189 
 
 rest, you know we have lately replenished our 
 house so far as was necessary. However, I 
 shall be glad to store any thing for you that 
 you may wish to dispose of in that way. 
 Thanks to our old-fashioned house that you 
 laugh at, we have a spacious garret." 
 
 " I thought you would probably buy a new 
 house, now you are so much richer." 
 
 " Oh, no. This house suits us perfectly, 
 now that we have the garden and library. 
 When do you mean to break up?" 
 
 " I shall begin directly. There is so much 
 to do that I quite dread it, and I want to settle 
 myself before winter. I wish you and Mark 
 would come over this evening and decide upon 
 what things you want. Where is Kitty ?" 
 
 " She and Rosy are playing in the library. 
 I was going to suggest that she might stay 
 here while you are breaking up. She will be 
 out of your way ; and I think she will enjoy 
 the visit." 
 
 Anne said she would think of it. Veronica 
 and Mark went over in the evening, accord- 
 ing to appointment, and Anne, in a sudden fit 
 of generosity, made them a present of all John's 
 books and furniture, together with some very 
 heavy old chairs and some ancient china, which
 
 190 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 had gone to him on the family breaking-up, 
 and on which Anne set no value. 
 
 Kitty was a little comforted when she 
 learned that Uncle Mark was to have papa's 
 things; but her grief was renewed when she 
 saw the carpets actually torn up and the furni- 
 ture removed in preparation for the sale. She 
 alternated constantly between passionate bursts 
 of crying and long fits of moping, in which she 
 wandered about the house, turning over and 
 surveying all the familiar objects from which 
 she was soon to be separated. Anne, really 
 touched by her grief, made many efforts to 
 comfort her by extra petting, and by tales of 
 the wonderful and beautiful things she would 
 see in New York; but Kitty steadfastly refused 
 consolation. 
 
 " Papa won't be there, nor Uncle Mark, nor 
 any one that I care about," she sobbed, in one 
 of her confidences to Rosy, with whom she was 
 spending her last few days. " It will be all 
 strange and hateful: I know it will." 
 
 "But we can write to one another; and how 
 nice that will be!" said Rosy. "Mamma said 
 we might." 
 
 " But I can't write," said Kitty. 
 
 " You can learn, you know," replied Rosy.
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 191 
 
 " But can't yon write, Kitty ? Why, I could 
 write two years ago. I wrote a letter to papa 
 when he was in Boston, direction and all; and 
 mamma said it was a very good letter in- 
 deed." 
 
 " I am a dunce," said Kitty, despondingly. 
 " Every one says so, even Uncle Mark. I do 
 every thing that is bad and naughty all the 
 time, and I can't help it. Mamma says she is 
 ashamed of me, because I get my frocks so 
 dirty; and I know I do, but I can't help that 
 either. I don't see how you keep yourself so 
 clean, Rosy.' 7 
 
 "I don't know, I am sure, unless it is be- 
 cause I learned when I was little," replied 
 Rosy. " Mamma used to give me a penny for 
 spending-money if I wore my apron two days 
 without a spot." 
 
 " That is just it," said Kitty. " I wish I 
 hud learned when I was little, and then it 
 would not be so hard. Mamma is always 
 scolding me about something, and then she 
 says, 'Why don't you do like Rosy ?' till I feel 
 as if I hated you and her and everybody." 
 
 " Oh, Kitty, how can you say so?" exclaimed 
 Rosy, greatly distressed. " How can you say 
 you hate me?"
 
 192 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " I don't hate you," replied Kitty, putting 
 her arms round her sister's neck. "I didn't 
 mean that. I love you dearly: so don't cry, 
 Rosy. But it does make me feel ugly when 
 mamma says such things." 
 
 " But you ought to be good, Kitty, and then 
 Aunt Anne would not scold you," said Rosy, 
 whose faith in her own mother's justice was 
 firm as a rock. "If we are naughty, we are 
 found fault with, of course ; but not if we are 
 good." 
 
 Kitty shook her head. " It don't make 
 much difference, that I see; and, besides, I don't 
 know how to be good. And it is so tiresome 
 to think about it all the time. If I had 
 learned when I was little, then it would be 
 easier; and, besides, I know something, Rosy, 
 and I will tell you, if you will promise never 
 to tell any one." 
 
 "I don't know about that," said Rosy, 
 doubtfully. " I always do tell papa every 
 thing, when he takes me on his knee at 
 night." 
 
 "Then I shall ndf tell you; because Jane 
 told me I must not let any one know." 
 
 " Well, never mind," said Rosy. " Let us 
 have one more play with our dolls and dishes.
 
 FARTHER CHANGES. 193 
 
 I will ask Becky to give us some cake and 
 things." 
 
 "I don't care much about dolls now; but I 
 will play if you like, Rosy," said Kitty, rather 
 disappointed at Rosy's want of curiosity. But 
 her mind was quite too full of her secret to 
 keep it to herself, and out it came at last. 
 
 "Only think, Rosy! Jane says I am not 
 mamma's own child, and you are not your 
 mamma's, either. She says our own mamma 
 died in the hospital, -just think, Rosy! in the 
 hospital, where the poor people go ! and that 
 your mamma and mine adopted us, and that 
 our mamma was poor. And Jane says," she 
 continued, bursting into tears, "that people 
 always get tired of adopted children after a 
 while, and that mamma is tired of me, and 
 that is the reason she scolds me so." 
 
 (l Then Jane is a wicked woman to say such 
 things, and you are a naughty, wicked child to 
 listen to her!" said Rosy, with indignant deci- 
 sion. "I don't believe one word of it." 
 
 "It is true, for ail that," returned Kitty, 
 "Jane says she lived at our house when 
 mamma brought me home, and that I had 
 hardly any clothes at all till she dressed me, 
 and that I was a year old then. And she says
 
 194 THE TWIN HOSES. 
 
 we are twins, and that our own papa was a 
 bad man, and did not treat our own mamma 
 well, and that was what killed her. So papa 
 was not my own father, after all." 
 
 Rosy looked perfectly stunned at the intel- 
 ligence which came upon her. " Then I am 
 not my mamma's child, either, nor papa's! I 
 am an orphan, like the little children at the 
 Home ! Oh, papa, papa ! Oh, what shall I 
 do ?" And Rosy threw herself down upon the 
 sofa, in an agony of crying and sobbing very 
 unusual with her. 
 
 Kitty, much alarmed at the effect of her 
 words, tried in vain to quiet her ; and at last 
 Becky came in. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter, children ?" she 
 exclaimed. " What are you crying about ?" 
 
 " We are crying because I am going away 
 to-morrow," replied Kitty, to whom a false 
 excuse was no novelty. Rosy was silent. 
 
 "Poor dears!" said Becky; "no wonder you 
 feel badly about it; but don't cry. That won't 
 do any good. Winter will be gone before you 
 know it; and just think of all the things you 
 will have to tell each other in the spring. 
 Come, I am going to make some nice cake, and 
 you shall help me. I am going to make each
 
 FAETHEB CHANGES. 195 
 
 of you a bird's-nest cake. I bought the 
 almonds and citron on purpose this very 
 morning." 
 
 But not even the honour of grating nutmegs 
 and blanching almonds, not even the frosted 
 cake crowned with a bird's nest of sliced cit- 
 rons, containing four sugar-almond eggs, not 
 Anne's parting present of the long-coveted 
 and beautifully-furnished little writing-desk, 
 could lift the weight from Rosy's spirits. Her 
 father and mother noticed her depression, but 
 naturally attributed it to grief at parting with 
 Kitty; and Rosy did not undeceive them. For 
 the first time she dreaded the evening hour 
 with her father, for the first time went to bed 
 with a secret on her mind and a weight on her 
 conscience ! 
 
 17
 
 196 
 
 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOST'S SECRET. 
 
 'HE clay passed on, and still Rosy 
 was depressed, losing her interest in 
 all her employments, caring neither 
 to work nor play, unwilling to be 
 a minute away from father and mo- 
 ther, but silent and reserved in their 
 company. Veronica became seriously 
 alarmed, especially as the child's health seemed 
 to be failing. 
 
 " Come, Rosy," said she, one afternoon, " I 
 want you to go round to the ' Home' for me. 
 I want to send Miss Brown the yarn I bought 
 for her yesterday, and Mrs. Norris has some 
 new kittens which you have never seen." 
 
 Rosy had always looked upon a visit to the 
 " Home" as one of her great treats. The old 
 ladies were all very fond of her, and sometimes 
 almost quarrelled as to who should have her to 
 tea; and she was happy in the little services
 
 ROSY'S SECRET. 197 
 
 she was able to render them, in dusting Miss 
 Brown's books, and arranging Mrs. Olin's 
 basket, and watching Mrs. Holloway make lace 
 on the lace-pillow she had brought from Devon- 
 shire so long ago. But to-day she hung back. 
 
 " Can't Nelly carry the yarn ?" she asked. 
 
 " Nelly is busy ; and, besides, I want you to 
 go. The walk will do you good, and it would 
 not Le kind to Mrs. Nor"ris to refuse her invi- 
 tation. Come, find your hat and basket, and 
 gather a bunch of rosemary and bergamot for 
 Mrs. Grimes, the blind woman." 
 
 The habit of unquestioning obedience pre- 
 vailed, and Rosy set out on her mission ; but 
 it was with such evident reluctance to leave 
 home, even for an hour, that Veronica did 
 not know what to think of her. 
 
 " I cannot understand all this grief for Kitty, 
 unless there is something in the old notion of 
 a peculiarly close tie between twins," said she 
 to Mark, who had been listening to the con- 
 versation. "I never thought Kitty and Rosy 
 were particularly congenial." 
 
 " There is something more about it," said 
 Mark. " The child has a weight upon her 
 spirits. I should almost think some one had 
 been frightening her."
 
 198 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "Who could possibly frighten her?" 
 
 "She has something upon her mind, more 
 than Kitty's going away," said Mark. " I 
 have been watching her for some days, and I 
 am sure of it. I must try and find out what 
 the matter is." 
 
 " Can you give any guess ?" asked Veronica. 
 " I am quite sure the trouble dates from Kitty's 
 last day's visit. Is it possible that Kitty can 
 have led her into any scrape ?" 
 
 "It is just possible. Kitty has grown sly 
 lately. She may have done something wrong 
 and made Rosy promise not to tell. We have 
 taught her to be so truthful that a hastily ex- 
 torted promise may be weighing upon her. I 
 will try to find out this evening." 
 
 Rosy came home from her visit somewhat 
 enlivened. Mrs. Norris was going to save the 
 prettiest kitten for her. She had taken up the 
 stitches upon Mrs. Grimes's knitting, and had 
 read her library-book all through to her and 
 Miss Brown. She drank tea with Mrs. Norris, 
 and washed up the tea-things afterwards, and 
 watered all her flowers, and Granny Pratt's as 
 well. All these labours of love cheered her 
 for a time; but the depression returned in full 
 force.
 
 ROSY'S SECRET. 199 
 
 Poor Rosy! She was indeed to be pitied. 
 The solid ground on which she had walked 
 all her life, seemed to have been cut away by 
 Kitty's communication, and she felt as though 
 she had nothing to which she could trust. 
 The more she thought, the more reason she 
 saw to believe Kitty's tale. It explained many 
 little things which had puzzled her, remarks 
 she had overheard among the old ladies and 
 from visitors, and speeches of Aunt Anne's to 
 Kitty when she was displeased, especially one 
 overheard by her on the occasion of Anne's last 
 visit : " You may thank your good luck that 
 I gave up Rosy to you and took Kitty myself." 
 Was it really true that parents did tire of 
 adopted children? Would there come a time 
 when mamma would feel about her as Aunt 
 Anne did about Kitty? 
 
 But there was something more resting upon 
 Rosy's mind than the discovery she had made. 
 She felt that she had agreed to Kitty's false- 
 hood by allowing Becky to believe that they 
 were crying for their approaching separation, 
 and that she was deceiving her parents by per- 
 mitting them to think she was grieving for her 
 sister. More than once she had made up her 
 
 mind to tell papa all; but, then, papa so hated 
 
 17*
 
 200 THE TWIN HOSES. 
 
 any thing like a lie, would not such a con- 
 fession hasten the day she dreaded, when he and 
 mamma Avould begin to look coldly upon her 
 and turn her off? and, then, what would Kitty 
 think ? 
 
 It was a terrible strait for the strong feel- 
 ings and sensitive conscience of the little one; 
 and well it was for her that she had a wise friend 
 to deal with her. When Mark took her on his 
 knee in the fire-lighted library that night, he 
 held her silently against his breast for some 
 minutes, while his heart was lifted up to the 
 Fountain of Wisdom, that he might have dis- 
 cretion and grace given him to deal with the 
 child of his love. 
 
 " It seems to me," he said, at last, tenderly, 
 "that my little Rosy has some secret trouble 
 on her mind, which she has been hiding from 
 papa and mamma. Is it not so, my love?" 
 
 Rosy breathed a sigh, which was almost 
 a sob, and nestled closer, but she made no 
 reply. 
 
 "Has any one been frightening you, Rosy?" 
 
 " No, papa, not frightening, exactly, 
 but- 
 
 "But what, sweetheart? Tell papa all 
 about it."
 
 ROSY'S SECRET. 201 
 
 Rosy could no longer refrain. She clasped 
 her arms round her father's neck, and sobbed 
 out, " Oh, papa, it isn't true, is it ?" 
 
 " What is not true, love ?" 
 
 " What Kitty says, what Jane told Kitty, 
 that you and mamma are not rny own papa 
 and mamma, that my real papa and mamma 
 are dead. Oh, papa! papa!" And, lifting her 
 head and seeming to read in her father's face 
 the confirmation of her fears, she dropped it 
 again on his shoulder, and sobbed bitterly, with 
 those deep drawn-sobs which are so heart- 
 rending in a little child. 
 
 Mark drew a long breath. It had come, 
 then, the time he had always dreaded and 
 had never been able to make up his mind 
 how to meet. He clasped Rosy still closer, 
 and bent his face upon her glossy curls for 
 a few minutes. 
 
 " Rosy, my dearest child, listen to me," he 
 said, in that tender, calm voice peculiarly his 
 own. "I meant to tell you all this myself, 
 and perhaps I have been to blame in not doing 
 so before, instead of leaving you to hear it 
 from strangers. Quiet yourself now, and 
 listen, and I will tell you the whole story." 
 
 Rosy made a brave effort, and by degrees the
 
 202 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 sobs ceased, though she did not lift up her 
 head. 
 
 " It is true, my dear, that in one way you 
 are not our own child, not as Nelly is her 
 mother's own child. Your mother was a dear 
 friend of mamma's, who died here on her way 
 to New England. Your father died before you 
 and Kitty were born ; and when your mother 
 found that she was going to heaven, she gave 
 you to mamma for her own child as long as 
 you should live. You are as much ours as 
 Nelly is her mother's, but in a different way." 
 
 "Then my own mother was not a poor 
 woman?" said Rosy. "Jane told Kitty that 
 she was, and that was the reason she was in 
 the hospital; and she said my father was a 
 bad, wicked man, and abused her." 
 
 " I will tell you all the circumstances, so far 
 as I know them, Rosy, and you can judge for 
 yourself." He then went over the outlines of 
 Daisy's history, and added, in conclusion, " I 
 believe it is true that your father did many 
 wrong things during his lifetime. He was 
 not brought up to love God and try to please 
 him, as you have been. But he repented of all 
 his sins before his death, and I have not the 
 least doubt that God forgave him and that he
 
 ROSY'S SECRET. 203 
 
 is now happy with your mother in heaven. 
 It is not true that he ever ill treated her. She 
 told me herself that he was never any thing 
 but perfectly kind to her." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad !" said Rosy. " It seemed 
 so dreadful that he should have been wicked 
 
 and died " Rosy stopped, but Mark well 
 
 understood what she had been thinking of. 
 
 " But Jane says/' continued Rosy, " that 
 
 people who adopt children " Rosy stopped 
 
 short. She was already beginning to be 
 ashamed of her fears. 
 
 " Well ?" said Mark, who guessed what was 
 coming. " Perhaps she said that people who 
 adopt children always tire of them, and ill 
 treat them after a while. Did she ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " And did my Rosy think that her papa 
 and mamma, who have taken care of her all 
 her life, would treat her so cruelly?" asked 
 Mark, tenderly, but with a look and tone 
 which went straight to Rosy's heart. " What 
 have they ever done, that their little daughter 
 should think so hardly of them ?" 
 
 " Oh, papa, don't!" cried Rosy. "Oh, I am 
 so sorry and so ashamed! Please do forgive 
 me, papa."
 
 204 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " I forgive you, my daughter, and I hope 
 you will never be so foolish again. Suppose, 
 because some people say that adopted children 
 always turn out badly, we should begin to 
 watch you to see whether you were not going 
 to be ungrateful and undutiful ?" 
 
 " Why do people say such things, papa ?" 
 
 " I suppose it comes about in this way. 
 People who adopt children often begin by in- 
 dulging them in every thing, letting them 
 have their own way, and spoiling them, as we 
 say. This makes the children troublesome, 
 selfish, and disagreeable. When they grow 
 older, their faults show more plainly and be- 
 come more annoying and hard to bear with. 
 The children are selfish and exacting, and the 
 parents lose patience with the very faults they 
 have helped to make. The same thing often 
 happens with parents and their own children." 
 
 " I know when we were up at Clifton, sum- 
 mer befqre last, Aunt Anne did not think 
 Kitty could do any thing wrong," remarked 
 Rosy. " She always thought it was my fault, 
 or somebody's, whenever Kitty quarrelled with 
 the other children. But Kitty used to mind 
 Uncle John ; and I think she loved him a great 
 deal more than Aunt Anne."
 
 EOSY'S SECRET. 205 
 
 " There is another thing, Rosy, that you may 
 learn," continued Mark. " Do you think it is 
 very pleasant to have a secret ?" 
 
 " No, indeed !" said Rosy, heartily. "I never 
 want to have another as long as I live. I 
 think it is dreadful." 
 
 "Then remember this, my dear: whenever 
 any one wishes you to have a secret from your 
 father and mother, be sure they are wrong. 
 We want you to feel that we are your best 
 friends, and more interested in giving you 
 pleasure than any one else can be. So I hope 
 you will have no more concealments, unless, 
 indeed, you should wish to surprise me with a 
 fine new pair of slippers for a Christmas-pre- 
 sent," he added, smiling. "In that case I 
 permit you to keep your design a secret till the 
 time comes." 
 
 " I think Kitty loves to have secrets," re- 
 marked Rosy. " She very often says, ' Now, 
 don't you ever tell,' when it is of no conse- 
 quence at all. And I know she and Jane 
 have secrets from Aunt Anne." 
 
 " What sort of secrets ?" 
 
 " Well, Jane's cousin keeps an ice-cream 
 saloon over the river. Jane often takes Kitty 
 there, and they give her ice-cream and candy;
 
 206 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 but Jane always says, ' Now, mind, Miss Kitty, 
 you don't tell mamma.'" 
 
 " That is very wrong in Jane/' said Mark. 
 "It is teaching the child to deceive her mo- 
 ther." 
 
 " Papa, where was my other mamma buried ?" 
 asked Kosy, after a little pause. 
 
 "Do you remember that long grave at 
 Mount Faith, by the side of little brother 
 and sisters, where mamma told you to plant 
 the violets? That is Mamma Daisy's grave. 
 I intend to put up a cross for her, but I have 
 been waiting till you should be old enough to 
 understand. Now I will have it done di- 
 rectly, and you shall go with me to choose the 
 marble." 
 
 "And papa, please, will you take my gold 
 pieces which Uncle John gave me on my birth- 
 day, to pay for it? I have never spent one 
 of them; and I should so like to do something 
 for dear Mamma Daisy. Will you, please, 
 papa?" 
 
 " Yes, my love, if you wish. And, now, is 
 your heart at ease ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa." 
 
 " And you will not be so foolish as to think 
 papa and mamma are growing tired of you,
 
 ROSY S SECRET. 207 
 
 even if they do find fault with you some- 
 times ?" 
 
 " No, papa. I never should have thought 
 of such a thing, only for Kitty. I am sure 
 mamma never scolded me so much in all my 
 life as Mrs. Wicks scolds Nelly in one day." 
 
 And so this great matter was settled, and 
 Kosy's mind relieved of its burden. The 
 trouble threatened to come back when, in the 
 course of two or three months, a little brother 
 was born. At first nothing could exceed 
 llosy's joy; but her pleasure was somewhat 
 damped by a very innocent speech from 
 Nelly Wicks. 
 
 " Are you not sorry you have got a little 
 brother, Rosy ?" 
 
 "Why, no!" exclaimed Rosy, indignantly. 
 " I am as glad as I can be." 
 
 " But your mother will not love you any 
 more, now she has got a younger one," said 
 Nelly. " My ma loved me dearly till Molly 
 came. She used to give me every thing, and 
 pet and kiss me; but she has never loved me 
 since. And she did just so by Alick when I 
 was born, I know; for he said so." 
 
 "Your mother might do so, but I don't 
 
 believe my mother will," said Rosy, with an 
 is
 
 208 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 instinctive sense of the difference. Neverthe- 
 less, she was not without her apprehensions for 
 a while, till she found that she was as much 
 petted as ever, and even more so by Becky, 
 who was also not without her fears that her 
 nursling's rights would be encroached upon by 
 the new-comer. 
 
 In the course of the winter, Mark went to 
 New York on business about his forthcoming 
 book. He called to see Anne, whom he found 
 established in a fashionable boarding-house, 
 with a circle of fine acquaintances about her, 
 and ready to wonder how she could ever have 
 endured life in such a dull place as Milby. 
 Kitty was at a fashionable French school as 
 day-boarder, and Mark heard great accounts of 
 her progress and improvement; though Anne 
 admitted that she saw very little of the child 
 except upon Saturdays. The next day being 
 a holiday, Mark asked and obtained permis- 
 sion to take Kitty out with him for a whole 
 long morning. Kitty was overjoyed. She 
 certainly was greatly improved in outward 
 manners, and was learning to take a little care 
 of her dress, and to keep her hands and teeth 
 clean; but she was thinner than ever, and the 
 shy, sullen look she had begun to wear was
 
 EOSY'S SECIIET. 209 
 
 painfully apparent when she was left to her- 
 self. Once alone with Uncle Mark, all her 
 troubles were poured out in a flood. The 
 school was hateful, the girls detestable; she 
 could not understand her lessons or learn 
 them ; she was scolded all the time, mamma 
 was very unkind, and nobody loved her, and 
 she wished she was dead and buried. Mark 
 soothed and sympathized, and tried to come at 
 the truth ; but this was not easy. Kitty could 
 not see that she was at all to blame for any of 
 her troubles. She was forced to admit that 
 she was often cross and passionate, but she 
 thought it was all mamma's fault for not 
 teaching her better when she was little. In 
 short, while she had the liveliest notion of her 
 own rights, she had no conception of the duties 
 she owed to others. She was to have every 
 thing done for her, and not to give any thing 
 in return. All her troubles were charged on 
 the fact of her being an adopted child, and she 
 thought if she only had her own dear mamma 
 she should be perfectly happy. 
 
 " If you had your own mamma, you would 
 be obliged to obey her," said Mark. "She 
 taught you to mind her when you were only a 
 baby." 

 
 210 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " I should not mind obeying her," said 
 Kitty. " She would have a right to make 
 me." 
 
 " And has not your mamma a right to make 
 you ? What would have become of you if she 
 had not taken you ? You must have gone to 
 the orphan-asylum." 
 
 This was a new idea to Kitty. 
 
 "Would not you have taken me, Uncle 
 Mark?" 
 
 "No, my dear: I could not have afforded it. 
 I was poor then, and had to work hard even 
 to support Aunt Veronica and Rosy. And 
 moreover, Kitty, we should never have known 
 of your existence but for your mamma. It 
 was she who found you in the hospital, and 
 she came at once to tell Aunt Veronica. She 
 took you home when you were a little baby, 
 unable to do the least thing for yourself or any 
 one, and she has taken care of and supported 
 you ever since. How are you going to repay 
 her for all the care and expense you have 
 caused her these eight or nine years ?" 
 
 It was a new and not an agreeable notion to 
 Kitty that she was the one indebted, and not 
 her mother. She renewed her complaints of 
 school, schoolmates, and every one else.
 
 BOSY'S SECRET. 211 
 
 " I will tell you where a great part of your 
 trouble lies, Kitty/' said Mark, interrupting 
 the catalogue of grievances. " It is because 
 you are all the time seeking to please your- 
 self, a thing which people seldom succeed 
 in doing. You think the girls ought to make 
 themselves agreeable to you ; but you do not 
 seem to remember that you ought also to 
 make yourself agreeable to them. You com- 
 plain of Madame, but I don't find, from what 
 you say, that you have really any thing to find 
 fault with." 
 
 " She says I don't try to learn my lessons," 
 interrupted Kitty. 
 
 " And do you ?" 
 
 " Sometimes I do ; but they are so hard." 
 
 "Then you must try all the harder: that is 
 all. When mamma finds fault, don't think, 
 ' If she were my own mamma she would not 
 do so,' but say to yourself, ' Mamma has 
 brought me up and taken care of me when I 
 had no other friend, and I ought to try and 
 please her,' and endeavour to do better next 
 time. And, Kitty, above all, remember that 
 you have a Father in heaven who loves you 
 and whom you must try to please. Do you 
 say your prayers ?" 
 
 16*
 
 212 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "Sometimes, when I don't forget," said 
 Kitty, hanging her head. 
 
 " But you must not forget. Suppose God 
 .should forget to take care of you, to give 
 you air to breathe, and light to see by, and 
 friends to care for you. You cannot be happy 
 while you forget your Father in heaven; but 
 if you try to please him and ask him to help 
 you to be good, you will find that he will 
 make your way easy to you, and assist you iu 
 winning the love of those about you." 
 
 It was a new idea to Kitty that she was to 
 win love and favour by her own exertions; but 
 she promised to try. Mark felt very sorry for 
 the poor 'child, and almost wished to take her 
 home with him, at least for a visit; but Anne 
 would not hear of it. The child was just 
 coming under some sort of discipline, and she 
 could not have her all broken up again. Mark 
 ventured to hint that it might be well for 
 Kitty to learn some other things before begin- 
 ning French and music; but here again Anne 
 had a theory. Kitty must begin French young, 
 or she would never learn the true accent. She 
 only wished she had taught her to read French 
 in the first place, even before she learned her 
 English letters. She had requested Madame
 
 ROSY'S SECRET. 213 
 
 to let the child have all her lessons in that 
 language ; but Madame said she would have 
 to learn a little more of it first. Mark said 
 no more, thankful at least to find that the 
 schoolmistress had some sense. Anne was gra- 
 ciousness itself to Mark, and would willingly 
 have made a great lion of him ; but he was 
 not to be lionized, and she was fain to con- 
 tent herself with talking about him instead of 
 showing him off. 
 
 She sent a handsome present to the baby, 
 and Kitty loaded him with gifts for Aunt Ve- 
 ronica, little Johnny, and Rosy. Her last 
 words were, " Tell Rosy I hate New York 
 just as much as I said I should."
 
 214 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 
 
 I 
 
 NE afternoon in the latter part of 
 summer, Rosy was left quite alone 
 in the house. Mark and Vero- 
 nica were out, driving with baby, 
 and Rebecca had stepped over to see 
 poor Mrs. Wicks, whose health had 
 been for some time declining. Rosy was 
 not at all afraid of being left alone : in 
 fact, she rather enjoyed having the house to 
 herself, and she was never lonely so long as she 
 had her doll, her books, and the cat, for com- 
 pany. The little girl was sitting in the bay 
 window of the back parlour, when she saw a 
 carriage, freighted with two or three trunks, 
 draw up to the door. Rosy's only thought 
 was of Aunt Anne and Kitty, and, full of joy, 
 she ran to meet the welcome guests and do the 
 honours of the house. She was disappointed. 
 A tall, stout, middle-aged lady, whom Rosy
 
 AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 215 
 
 had never seen before, descended from the car- 
 riage. 
 
 " Is this Mark Campion's house ?" she asked, 
 sharply. 
 
 The tone rather grated upon Rosy's ears ; but 
 she answered, politely, 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; but papa and mamma are not 
 at home." 
 
 " Humph !" said the visitor, looking at her 
 keenly. "What's your name, child?" 
 
 " Rosa Brush Campion," was the reply ; 
 " but papa and mamma call me Rosy." 
 
 " Humph !" said the visitor, again. "And 
 when will your mamma, as you call her, be at 
 home ?" 
 
 " She will be at home soon," replied Rosy, 
 very much perplexed ; but, remembering her 
 good manners, " Won't you come in and stay 
 till she comes?" 
 
 " Of course I shall. I have come to stay. 
 Take off- the trunks," added the stranger, turn- 
 ing to the hackrnan; "and you, child, call a 
 servant and have them taken up-stairs." 
 
 " We have no servant but Becky, and she 
 is not at home ; but the trunks can stand on 
 the veranda till mamma comes," said Rosy. 
 " Please walk in, ma'am."
 
 216 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 The stranger followed Rosy into the back 
 parlour, and seated herself in Mark's favourite 
 chair. 
 
 " Come here to me, child," said she, taking 
 both her hands and gazing fixedly at her. 
 "What did you say your name was ?" 
 
 Rosy repeated her name again. 
 
 " Nonsense !" said the visitor. " Your name 
 is Rosa Brush, and nothing else. Did no one 
 ever tell you so before ?" 
 
 " I know that my dear Mamma Daisy's name 
 was Brush," said Rosy, beginning to wish 
 very much that some one would come. " It is 
 on the cross which papa put up over her grave 
 at Mount Faith : ' Daisy Brush, aged twenty- 
 four.'" 
 
 "So you do know something of the matter. 
 Did no one ever tell you about your aunt 
 Adela?" 
 
 " No, ma'am : I never heard of her," said 
 Rosy; and, indeed, Mark had never thought 
 it necessary to make her aware of her aunt's 
 existence. " I did not know I had any aunt 
 but Aunt Anne." 
 
 " You have no aunt but Aunt Adela : un- 
 derstand that," said Miss Brush. " I am your 
 only relation, so far as I know, unless your
 
 AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 217 
 
 mother had some cousins. You belong to me, 
 and to no one else." 
 
 " I belong to papa and mamma," said Rosy, 
 indignantly. " My own dear Mamma Daisy 
 gave me to them when I was a little bit of a 
 baby, just before she died. Papa told me so 
 himself, and he said I was his very own, to 
 keep forever !" 
 
 Miss Brush laughed sarcastically. "We 
 shall soon see," said she, releasing the hands 
 by which she had held Rosy close to her side. 
 " There is no particular use in debating the 
 matter with you. I have made up my own 
 mind, and that is enough. Who is this 
 coming in?" 
 
 " It is mamma," said Rosy, experiencing a 
 sensation of intense relief; for she had been 
 considerably scared by her aunt's words and 
 manner, and, in her alarm, began to think it 
 possible that she might be carried off by force 
 before her mother's return. " I will tell her 
 1 hat you are here." 
 
 She brought such an agitated face to the 
 door that Veronica was startled. 
 
 " What is the matter, my darling ? Has any 
 thing frightened you ?" 
 
 "No, mamma, yes, mamma, a little! .
 
 218 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 Have I really got an aunt Adela? There is a 
 lady here who says she is my aunt Adela, and 
 that I belong to her. I don't : do I ?" 
 
 "No, my love. You belong to no one but 
 me," replied Veronica. " No one shall ever 
 take you from me: so do not be frightened. 
 Where is Aunt Adela?" 
 
 "She is in the parlour, and she has brought 
 her trunks; and Rebecca was not at home; 
 and oh, mamma, was it silly? I could not 
 help being frightened !" 
 
 " I don't wonder," said Veronica. " Come 
 into the nursery, Rosy. I will just lay baby 
 down, and then go to see Aunt Adela. She is 
 your father's sister, Rosy, and we must be civil 
 to her while she stays; though I must say she is 
 the last person I ever expected to see here." 
 
 Veronica might have said with truth what 
 she came near saying, that Miss Brush was 
 the last person she wished to see. It was easy 
 to guess that she had come with the intention 
 of possessing herself of one, perhaps both, of 
 the children; and Veronica foresaw a great deal 
 of annoyance to all the persons concerned. 
 But she could not be uncivil in her own house. 
 She welcomed her old schoolmate with tolerable 
 .cordiality, installed her in a pleasant bedroom
 
 AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 219 
 
 up-stairs, and went to consult with Becky 
 about the dinner. Becky had already heard 
 from Rosy of the new arrival, and was pre- 
 pared to do battle on the instant. 
 
 " A pretty business, to be sure, coming and 
 taking possession of people's houses in that 
 way! I only wish I had been at home! I 
 would have given her a good lesson." 
 
 " On the whole, perhaps, it is as well that 
 you were not," said Veronica, smiling. "But, 
 now that Miss Brush is here, Becky, we must 
 be civil to her as long as she stays. I have 
 been thinking we had better borrow Nelly 
 Wicks for a few days to help about the house. 
 I dare say Miss Brush has been used to a good 
 deal of attention." 
 
 " I suppose when she comes to see us she 
 can live as we do," said Becky, who had made 
 up her mind to uncompromising hostility. 
 " However, I have no objection to calling in 
 Nelly for a while. It will be a change for her ; 
 and she needs one, poor thing !" 
 
 Miss Brush came down when dinner was 
 ready, elegantly dressed, and with an evident 
 determination to overawe the whole household. 
 She did not succeed, however. Mark's gentle, 
 in ias.su in ing dignity, and Veronica's even com- 
 
 19
 
 220 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 posure, were not in the least disturbed by her 
 grand airs, and even Rosy had recovered from 
 her fright, and chatted *away merrily to her 
 father and mother. Old Nero, now the most 
 ancient of all the cats, assumed his usual place 
 at Mark's right hand, and begged for morsels 
 of bread, unawed by the close vicinity of Miss 
 Brush's rustling brocade. Miss Brush seemed 
 to expect to carry all before her without oppo- 
 sition, and already began to treat Rosy as 
 though she belonged to her; and, as the child 
 was relating to her father some new exploit 
 of baby's, she checked her sharply with, 
 
 " There ! that will do, Rose ! Be quiet. 
 Little girls should be seen, and not heard." 
 
 Rosy looked up in innocent confusion, and 
 Veronica's face flushed with indignation, but 
 Mark evinced no discomposure. Pie opened 
 his eyes upon Miss Brush with an expression of 
 well-bred surprise, and then, turning to Rosy, 
 asked, "What were you saying, daughter?" 
 
 Something of mischief sparkled in Rosy's 
 eyes as she finished her tale, and Miss Brush 
 was irritated accordingly. 
 
 " In my day, children were taught to be 
 silent before their elders," said she. 
 
 " Rosy has beefi taught not to interrupt the
 
 AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 221 
 
 conversation of others, whether elders or 
 juniors," said Mark, politely. " She has been 
 the only child a long time, however; and she 
 has always been permitted to talk very freely 
 to papa and mamma." 
 
 "She has been very sufficiently spoiled, I 
 dare say," returned Miss Brush. "Her mother 
 was a spoiled child before her. However, 
 there is time enough to correct all that." 
 
 Mark shrugged his shoulders and elevated 
 his eyebrows, but made no other reply. Coffee 
 was presently brought in, accompanied by 
 some dainty cakes, and Rosy was helped with 
 the rest. Miss Brush looked disapprovingly 
 at her portion. 
 
 " When you live with me, miss, you will 
 have no such rich cake as that, I can tell you," 
 said she. " Cake is not fit for children." 
 
 " If Rosy should ever come to visit you, 
 Miss Brush, I dare say she will be governed 
 by your rules, as she is now by mine," said 
 Veronica, with a decided emphasis upon the 
 word visit ; " but I am afraid it will be a long 
 time before I spare her even to make a visit 
 so far away from home." 
 
 Miss Brush tossed her head and made no 
 reply. After dinner was over in the kitchen,
 
 222 THE TWIN KOSES. 
 
 Mark called his household together, as usual, 
 for prayers. He had begun the custom of 
 early evening prayers at the time when he 
 was obliged to remain late at the office, and 
 it had been continued upon Rosy's account. 
 Rosy, who imitated in every thing her father's 
 gracious politeness, offered her aunt a book; 
 but Miss Brush declined, and sat by in dis- 
 dainful indifference, taking particular pains to 
 look out of the window all the time Mark was 
 rending, and sitting bolt upright through the 
 prayer. Presently Mark returned to the 
 library, and llosy followed him for that pre- 
 cious twilight hour of talk which neither of 
 them ever willingly missed. Miss Brush, who 
 seemed bent upon making herself as disagree- 
 able as possible, rose to follow them. This 
 was a little more than Veronica could stand; 
 and she interposed : 
 
 " Excuse me, Miss Brush, but I think my 
 husband would prefer not to be interrupted at 
 present. He always gives an hour in the even- 
 ing to our daughter's religious instruction.'' 
 
 "Humph!" said Miss Brush, returning to 
 her seat, however. "So you have married a 
 man as method istical as yourself, Veronica ! 
 J remember you used to set up for a saint at
 
 AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 223 
 
 school. I did not expect to find Mark Cam- 
 pion one of that sort." 
 
 " I don't know how any one who reads his 
 books could expect to find him any thing- 
 else/' said Veronica. "He is not always 
 dragging in sacred names and Scripture phrases, 
 but I am sure no books were ever more per- 
 vaded with the spirit of true godliness." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense !" returned Miss Brush. 
 "I suppose he writes what he thinks will suit 
 the market, like other people; but it is useless 
 to tell me that a man of his mind and cultiva- 
 tion believes in all those antiquated myths. I 
 know better." 
 
 Veronica could not quite trust her voice 
 with a reply. Miss Brush continued: "I 
 suppose we may as well have our talk out 
 now as any other time. Of course you know 
 that I have come for that child. It has not 
 been convenient for me to take her before: so I 
 have been content to leave her with you, espe- 
 cially as I hate babies. But, now that she has 
 arrived at a convenient age, I intend to take 
 her to live with me, repaying, of course, all 
 expenses which you have incurred thus far. 
 You can make out your account to suit your- 
 self. I shall not dispute it, unless it should be 
 Iff"
 
 224 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 out of all reason exorbitant. I suppose you 
 will be willing enough to get rid of her, now 
 that you have a child of your own." 
 
 " You are mistaken, Miss Brush," said Ve- 
 ronica, recovering at once her voice and her 
 composure. " Rosy was given to us by her 
 dying mother, and we shall never resign her 
 to any one." 
 
 " I am sorry the child is so like her mother," 
 continued Miss Brush, quite disregarding Ve- 
 ronica's words. " I can see the same spirit 
 coming out all over her; and no doubt it has 
 been aggravated by the spoiling she has re- 
 ceived. However, I think I can find means 
 to correct that. I propose to set out the day 
 after to-morrow; and I presume you can have 
 her ready by that time." 
 
 " Miss Brush, listen to me," said Veronica, 
 firmly. " Once for all, you may lay aside all 
 thought of taking Rosy away with you. She 
 is our child, and ours she shall remain." 
 
 "You talk like a fool, A^erouica!" said Miss 
 Brush. "What is the child to you?" 
 
 " She is every thing to me," replied Vero- 
 nica. " If she were my own flesh and blood, 
 she could not be dearer. I would as soon 
 give you my baby as Rosy."
 
 Che Ctuin Hosts. 
 
 " She is our child, and ours she shall remain." p. 224.
 
 AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 225 
 
 "But do you not see that I have every 
 right to the child ? Is she not my only brother's 
 daughter, the last of my race?" 
 
 "If you wanted the child, why did you not 
 keep her when you had her ?" asked Veronica. 
 "Why did you make your only brother's 
 widow miserable, and then turn her out of 
 doors to shift for herself?" 
 
 Miss Brush winced a little. " I see the art- 
 ful little fool has told you her own version of 
 the story," said she, recovering herself. " I pre- 
 sume she did not mention that her own light 
 conduct was the cause of her husband's death?" 
 
 " She told me that you said so." 
 
 " But you did not believe it ?" 
 
 " No," replied Veronica. " I never knew 
 Daisy to be any thing but truthful; and I do 
 not believe she told me a falsehood upon her 
 dying bed." 
 
 " No doubt she made out a fine romantic 
 story of persecution for ' righteousness' sake/ " 
 said Miss Brush. "Perhaps I might have been 
 hard upon her; but she made me sick with her 
 airs, and, above all, with her piety. I know 
 she made people think her a martyr and me 
 a demon. But that does not matter. I shall 
 talk to your husband, Veronica, and I have no
 
 226 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 doubt I shall convince him of the justice of 
 my claim. If I do so, of course you will give 
 the matter up; and, meantime, I beg you will 
 not prejudice the child against me by any ' raw- 
 head and bloody-bones' stories. If you will 
 give me a candle, I will go to my room ; for I 
 feel rather tired." 
 
 Veronica was only too glad to get rid of her 
 unwelcome visitor. She provided light, saw 
 that the room was made comfortable, and then 
 returned to the library, where she found Rosy 
 still nestled in her father's arms. 
 
 "Well," said Mark, "has the dragon gone 
 to roost? Here is Rosy afraid that she is 
 going to be carried off, like another lovely 
 Sabra, with no champion to defend her." 
 
 " The dragon has retired for the night, I 
 hope," replied Veronica. "I never saw any 
 one more altered, in manner, I mean; for I 
 can see that she is the same at heart. She 
 used to be 'smoother than butter,' gaining all 
 her ends by management and diplomacy; but 
 she seems to think now that she has nothing to 
 do but to drive straight on over everybody." 
 
 " She has had fifteen years of arbitrary 
 power since you knew her," remarked her hus- 
 band. "What wind blew her here?"
 
 AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. 227 
 
 " The wind of her own fancy, I presume." 
 
 " Mamma, do you think that Aunt Adela 
 has come for me ?" asked Rosy, anxiously. 
 
 " I presume she has, my dear ; but you need 
 not be frightened. Papa and I have no notion 
 of letting you go." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Mark. " Our little Eosy 
 has grown in our garden too long to be trans- 
 planted. Do not let your heart be troubled 
 by any such fear." 
 
 " Well, I was frightened !" said Rosy, can- 
 didly. "She looked so tall and big, and she 
 held my hand so tight when she said, 'You 
 belong to me and to no one else/ Oh, how I 
 did wish some one would come !" 
 
 " I do not wonder," said Mark. " But you 
 may sleep in peace, my daughter. No one 
 but God shall ever take you from us. Good- 
 night." But Rosy still lingered. "Well, what 
 is it now?" 
 
 " Please, mamma, may I ask Becky to let 
 me sleep with her to-night?" 
 
 \ 7 eronica smiled. "Yes, certainly, my love. 
 Poor child !" she added, as Rosy closed the 
 door. " No wonder she is afraid to sleep 
 alone."
 
 228 
 
 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A CONTEST. 
 
 llSS BRUSH came down to break- 
 fast, apparently in a somewhat 
 more amiable mood. She was par- 
 ticularly gracious to Rosy, who, 
 relieved by her faith in her father's 
 assurance that no one should take her 
 from him, responded in the pretty, cordial 
 manner natural to her, and readily brought 
 her books and her work to show how much 
 she had learned. 
 
 " You seem to have done very well, so far," 
 said Miss Brush. " I suppose you have not 
 begun French yet ?" 
 
 u She has been waiting to learn a little more 
 English first," said Veronica. 
 
 " My maid speaks the language very well," 
 said Miss Brush. "I intend she shall give the 
 child lessons, as French is so much spoken in 
 our set. My mother's family were French,
 
 A CONTEST. 229 
 
 and, though she married an American, we have 
 always kept about the same circle of acquaint- 
 ance. I presume Rose will acquire it easily 
 enough. What do you say, Hose ? Will you 
 come to New Orleans with me, and be my little 
 girl?" 
 
 "I am papa's and mamma's little girl," said 
 Rosy. " I cannot belong to any one else. Papa 
 would not know what to do without me : 
 would you, papa?" 
 
 " No, my dear. I should feel lost indeed 
 without my little daughter," replied Mark. 
 
 " But he is not your own papa, Rosy," said 
 Miss Brush, with a darkening brow, but 
 plainly putting a great constraint upon herself. 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Campion are not in the least 
 related to you, while I am your own aunt, 
 your own father's sister ; and you were born in 
 my house." 
 
 "Was I?" asked Rosy, innocently. "Why 
 didn't you keep me in your house, then, Aunt 
 Adela?" Miss Brush's eyes shot fire; but 
 Rosy continued, unconscious of offence : " I 
 was in the hospital when mamma found me : 
 wasn't I, mamma ? We went up and saw the 
 Sister that used to take care of Mamma Daisy, 
 and I carried her some flowers from my garden.
 
 230 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 She is such a nice woman, Aunt Adela, only 
 she wears such a funny thing on her head." 
 
 "But, Rosy, if you come and live with me 
 you will be very rich," continued Miss Brush. 
 "You will have a fine carriage and horses, and 
 a pony, perhaps, and a maid of your own to 
 dress you every day." 
 
 "I can dress myself," said Rosy, rather in- 
 dignantly. " I have dressed myself this whole 
 year, ever since little brother was born. My 
 papa is rich enough to get me all I want; and, 
 if he wasn't, I would never go away from 
 him and mamma, not if they were as poor as 
 old Aunt Phebe, never!" 
 
 " Listen to me, Rose," said Miss Brush, 
 sharply. " You belong to me, and I intend to 
 have you, at all events. If you come with a 
 good grace, so much the better for you. I 
 shall not promise to spoil you, as these people 
 have done, but I shall educate you properly; 
 and if you give me satisfaction, I shall provide 
 for you at my death. Now, be reasonable : for- 
 get that you have any other friends, and make 
 up your mind to come with me. It will be 
 better for all parties that intercourse should 
 cease, at least for some years," she continued, 
 speaking to Mark. " I wish the child to
 
 A COM'JBST. 231 
 
 forget that she has ever been any thing else 
 but a Southerner." 
 
 Rosy took refuge between her father's knees ; 
 and the temper natural to her as to Kitty, but 
 rarely seen of late years, flashed out. 
 
 " I am not your little girl, and I will never 
 go with you!" she exclaimed. "I love papa 
 and mamma, and I belong to them. Dear 
 Mamma Daisy gave me to them; and I will 
 never go away from them, with you or any- 
 body, not if I were to have all the carriages 
 and all the money in the world." 
 
 " Very well, miss," said Miss Brush, grow- 
 ing pale with rage. " You do credit to your 
 refif/ious instruction, I must say. I shall find 
 means to tame that temper of yours before 
 many days, I promise you. Mr. Campion, do 
 you intend to give me possession of my brother's 
 child peaceably, or must I take legal means to 
 recover my rights ?" 
 
 " Go to Rebecca, my dear," said Mark, 
 speaking to Rosy. "I will go with you." He 
 left the room for a few minutes, and presently 
 returned without the child. " Xow, to reply 
 to your questions once for all, as you say, Miss 
 Brush," said he, seating himself deliberately. 
 
 " Well?" returned the lady, sharply. 
 
 20
 
 232 THE TWIN HOSES. 
 
 "Well," said Mark, "I do not intend to give 
 you possession of your brother's child, either 
 peaceably or in any other way. We adopted 
 her for our own, at a time when she had no 
 better prospect before her than an almshouse 
 or an orphan-asylum. If you ever had any 
 moral right, you have forfeited it by your long 
 neglect; and as to legal right, you have none 
 whatever. I have taken care of that." 
 
 " What do you mean, sir ?" 
 
 " I mean," returned Mark, with extra de- 
 liberation, "that, foreseeing some such difficulty 
 as that which has arisen, at the time we 
 adopted Rosy I caused writings to be drawn 
 up, by which the custody of the child was 
 secured to me. Rosy is regularly apprenticed 
 to me till the age of twenty-one years. The 
 indenture is signed by her mother, and wit- 
 nessed by the clergyman and physician who 
 attended her during her illness. So, you see, 
 your claim of relationship goes for nothing." 
 
 Miss Brush was speechless with rage. 
 
 " Moreover, I must tell you another thing," 
 continued Mark, " the knowledge of which I 
 would gladly have spared you if you had been 
 a little more reasonable. At Daisy's request, 
 both my wife and myself pledged ourselves, in
 
 A CONTEST. 233 
 
 the most solemn manner, that, whatever be- 
 came of Rose, she should never, on any pretext 
 whatever, be put into your hands; and she 
 gave as a reason for requiring this pledge 
 your cruel treatment of her while she was 
 under your roof and dependent upon you. 
 So, you see, we are doubly bound." 
 
 " Mighty well, sir/' said Miss Brush, find- 
 ing her voice; "but if you think you are going 
 to turn me from my purpose by any such trick, 
 you are mistaken. I shall have legal advice 
 on the matter." 
 
 " Very well, madam. You can do so ; but 
 I warn you that you will gain nothing except 
 a bill of costs." 
 
 " Where is the child ? I demand to see her 
 alone." 
 
 " She has gone out for the day," said Vero- 
 nica. " I preferred having her out of hearing." 
 And, -indeed, Becky had taken Rosy round to 
 the Old Ladies' Home, and left her under Miss 
 Brown's guardianship, with a strict injunction 
 not to stir out of doors. 
 
 " I suppose you call that a lady-like pro- 
 ceeding?" 
 
 " Perfectly," returned Veronica, calmly. 
 
 Miss Brush took two or three turns across
 
 234 THE TWIN KOSES. 
 
 the room. She was evidently considerably 
 nonplussed. 
 
 " See here," said she, finally. " I don't 
 know why I should take so much pains about 
 this matter, but I am not used to be defeated 
 when I once take a project in hand. Give me 
 this child quietly, without more ado, and I will 
 pay you down five thousand dollars." 
 
 Mark's eye began to kindle dangerously. 
 "It is a large sum to pay; much more than 
 you could get." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Miss Brush. 
 " You do not suppose I intend to sell the 
 child ?" 
 
 " As you seem to expect me to sell her, I 
 sec nothing unreasonable in the supposition," 
 replied Mark. "But you may dismiss all 
 thought of such a speculation. Rosy is not in 
 the market." 
 
 "Well, I have learned something,", said 
 Miss Brush. " I always supposed some men 
 would sell any thing." 
 
 "You may possibly learn something else," 
 said Mark, erecting his tall figure; "and that 
 is, that there are some insults which a man will 
 not endure even from a woman. I should be 
 sorry to order you out of my house; but "
 
 A CONTEST. 235 
 
 " You may save yourself the trouble, Mark 
 Campion," returned Miss Brush, also rising. 
 " I shall leave your house as soon as possible; 
 but it will be to seek a legal remedy. I do 
 not propose to give up so easily. Where is 
 the child ?" 
 
 " I do not see, exactly, how that is any con- 
 cern of yours, madam." 
 
 " I wish to see her again." 
 
 " I see nothing which would be gained by 
 another interview. She has been made suffi- 
 ciently uncomfortable already. I do not wish 
 her nerves to be further tried. Come, Miss 
 Brush, be reasonable. I can sympathize so 
 far in your disappointment as to make great 
 allowances for you; but what you ask is as 
 entirely out of the question as if you had 
 asked me for a piece of my own heart. Be 
 advised: give up your present plan, seek out 
 some orphan or destitute girl, and make a 
 happy home for her " 
 
 " I want none of your preaching. Am I to 
 see the child again, or not?" 
 
 " Not at present," said Mark. 
 
 " Very well. I shall say no more : only, you 
 may rest assured of one thing, you have not 
 done Rose any good. She will be none the 
 
 20*
 
 236 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 better off with me for the way in which you 
 have treated me and taught her to regard me : 
 I can tell you that." 
 
 Mark made no reply. 
 
 " Be so good as to send your servant for a 
 carriage/' continued Miss Brush, with freezing 
 loftiness of manner, "and inform me what I 
 am to pay for my board and lodging." 
 
 " I will send in the bill as soon as I have 
 time to make it out," replied Mark, relapsing 
 into his usual manner. "My love, will you 
 send Nelly for a carriage ?" 
 
 The carriage was brought, and Miss Brush 
 departed, shaking off the dust from her feet. 
 She lost no time in fulfilling her threat of seek- 
 ing legal advice. Fortunately for her, the 
 lawyer to whom she went was an honest man, 
 and above making business for himself. He 
 looked at the papers, and talked with Rosy 
 herself alone, and ended by assuring Miss 
 Brush that she had no remedy. 
 
 " If the child was unhappy or ill treated, or 
 if she wished herself to go with you, something 
 might perhaps be done; but she is so clearly 
 well off, and manifests such a degree of fear 
 and horror at the very thought of going away 
 with you, that I see nothing but to let her
 
 A CONTEST. 237 
 
 .stay where she is^unless Mr. Campion can be 
 persuaded to forego his claim." 
 
 "That I shall never do," said Mark. "It 
 is useless to think of it. Were I to do so, I 
 should violate the most solemn pledge that a 
 man can give." 
 
 Miss Brush was silent. She sat for a few 
 minutes. " Then I go back as rich as I came," 
 said she, at last, while something like a tear 
 glistened in her hard eye. " Come here to 
 me, child." 
 
 " Go, my love," said Mark, as Rosy hesi- 
 tated. " Go and kiss Aunt Adela." 
 
 Adela again took Rosy's hands, and gazed 
 at her long and earnestly. " So you will not 
 come with Aunt Adela?" said she. "You will 
 leave her to go back all alone to her lonely 
 house, with no one to care for her, while you 
 stay with these people, who are no relation to 
 you ?" 
 
 Rosy looked distressed. " I am very sorry 
 for you, Aunt Adela," said she. " I can't leave 
 my papa and mamma and dear little brother 
 Johnny ; but I will write to you, Aunt Adela. 
 I can write letters now. Shall I, papa?" 
 
 " Surely, my dear, if Aunt Adela wishes it." 
 
 "No," said Miss Brush, abruptly: "what
 
 238 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 would be the use? Better ite-get all about her, 
 if I can." She still held the child and looked 
 at her; then, disengaging one hand, she took 
 from her side a very handsome gold watch, with 
 its accompanying chain and trinkets. "Here, 
 child, take this, and, when you are old enough, 
 wear it. There, now: go to your mother." 
 
 She kissed Rosy two or three times, and 
 then set her down. 
 
 " I may as wej^jgo," said she. " Mark Cam- 
 pion, I believe you have done what you 
 thought right. You have treated me with 
 more forbearance than perhaps I had a right 
 to expect. Veronica, I thank you for your 
 hospitality. Good-morning." 
 
 Miss Brush threw herself back in the car- 
 riage, and said nothing for some minutes. 
 
 " So ends my dream," said she. " I was a 
 fool to entertain it." 
 
 " Mark Campion is a singular person," said 
 the lawyer. " Many people think him a mau 
 of no force of character, because he is so gentle 
 and easy in his manners and so ready to give 
 up to others; but touch him upon the side of 
 principle, and you might as well try to over- 
 turn that court-house. But did not your sister- 
 in-law leave another daughter?"
 
 THE CONTEST. 239 
 
 " I understood the other child died." 
 " I think not. She was adopted by Mr. 
 John Campion, and was certainly alive a year 
 ago. I distinctly recollect seeing her at John 
 Campion's funeral. I never saw a child of 
 her age show such deep grief." 
 
 "And where is Mrs. John Campion ?" 
 "She is, or was lately, in New York. She 
 removed thither after the death of her husband, 
 in order to be near her own friends. She was 
 a Miss Holley." 
 "Not Anne Holley?" 
 
 "Yes: I think her name is Anne." 
 "I remember Rose spoke of her aunt 
 Anne," said Miss Brush. 
 
 "Anne Holley! That is another matter. 
 Can you find out her address for me ? quietly, 
 you understand." 
 
 " Easily," said the lawyer. " It is only to 
 ask Mr. Clarendon, Mr. Campion's executor." 
 
 " Do so, then, at once. Anne Holley !" re- 
 peated Miss Brush, again. "That is quite 
 another thing." .
 
 240 
 
 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 KITTY. 
 
 ends the war of the Rose, not 
 the war of the Roses," said Mark. 
 "I am glad she went away feel- 
 ing more kindly towards us." 
 
 " I cannot help being very sorry 
 for her," returned Veronica. 
 
 " I do not know why you should 
 help it, my love. She is much to be pitied, 
 and not the less that her present position is in 
 a great measure her own fault. As Rosy says, 
 she should have kept her when she had her." 
 " I wonder why she didn't/' said Rosy. 
 "Papa, was I really born in her house?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear. As Nelly says, there is a 
 story to it, a story which I do not care about 
 telling you at present." 
 
 " But it w r as kind in her to give me this 
 beautiful watch," said Rosy, who liked to think 
 well of every one. "See, mamma: it is a great
 
 KITTY. 241 
 
 deal handsomer than Aunt Anne's. See all 
 this green on the back, and these little shining- 
 stones. . Isn't that a letter, mamma ?" 
 
 "Yes, the letter B. It is indeed a splen- 
 did present," said Veronica, admiring the 
 watch, which was one of the most beautiful of 
 its kind. 
 
 " I wish I could wear it," said Rosy. 
 
 "Little girls do not wear watches; but you 
 may have it in your room and keep it going. 
 1 will lend you my beautiful china watch- 
 stand with the glass shade ; and you may wear 
 the chain sometimes, to remember Aunt Adela. 
 Poor thing! I wish we could have done some- 
 thing for her." 
 
 " If you could only have persuaded her to 
 adopt one of the children at the ' Home,' " said 
 Mark, smiling. " That would have been kill- 
 ing two birds with one stone." 
 
 "I am afraid it would be killing in good 
 earnest," said Veronica. " Unless she is more 
 altered than I have any reason to believe, I 
 should not like to be the one who should put 
 an orphan child into her hands. By the way, 
 was it not odd that she should have said no- 
 thing at all of Kitty ? She can hardly have 
 forgotten the child's existence." 
 U.
 
 212 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " Becky told me that, from some words she 
 let fall to her, she thinks Miss Brush believes 
 the child dead," said Mark. "Becky .did not 
 undeceive her, for which I am not sorry." 
 
 "You surely cannot imagine that Anne 
 would let Kitty go?" asked Veronica. 
 
 "Hardly; but Miss Brush might cause her 
 a great deal of annoyance, especially as Kitty 
 is so discontented with her present position. 
 The poor child is fully persuaded that all her 
 troubles arise from the fact that Anne is not 
 her own mother." 
 
 "Well, I cannot help being glad Aunt 
 Adela lias gone," said Rosy. "I felt all the 
 time as if she would carry me off before I knew 
 it. I was afraid to go out and pick up Mrs. 
 Grimes's ball when it fell out of the window, 
 that day I was at the Home." 
 
 It soon appeared that the shock to Rosy's 
 nerves had been a more serious one than any- 
 body supposed at the time. She had always 
 been a remarkably fearless child ; but she now 
 became afraid to sleep alone, afraid to go out 
 by herself, or even to stay alone in the next 
 room to her mother. She was tormented by 
 alarming dreams, and showed a tendency to 
 nervous twitches and starts, which frightened
 
 KITTY. 243 
 
 Veronica. She consulted Dr. Woodman, and 
 made him acquainted with the circumstances. 
 
 " There is no use in giving the child medi- 
 cine," said he. " What she wants is a diversion. 
 Give her, if possible, an entire change of air 
 and scene : take a long journey, or go to the 
 sea-side with her. Any thing to break up 
 associations and give her new ideas. Don't 
 let her sleep or stay alone, if she is timid about 
 it. Let her have a light in her room, if she 
 wants one, and somebody to sit with her till 
 she goes to sleep. You need not be afraid of 
 spoiling her." 
 
 "I am not," said Veronica, smiling. "I 
 do not think well-governed children are easily 
 spoiled by indulgence. Do you think it well 
 to talk to her about the unreasonableness of 
 her fears ?" 
 
 " I should say not. Better let her forget 
 them if she can. It is not her judgment that 
 wants convincing, but her nerves that need 
 putting to rights. I don't think any perma- 
 nent mischief has been done yet; but it would 
 be very easy to do a great deal. One fright 
 such as might be given her by putting her to 
 sleep alone and in the dark, and her health, and 
 very probably her mind, are ruined forever."
 
 244 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "I would never subject any child to such 
 discipline/' said Veronica. "I think it bar- 
 barous in the extreme. I have too vivid a 
 . recollection of the terrors of my own childhood, 
 to trifle with the fears of a child." 
 
 " So much the better for the children you 
 have to deal with," said the doctor. "To 
 hear a great many people talk, and see the way 
 they deal with children, one would think they 
 had come into the world full-grown, in a state 
 of sinless perfection, and having all the arts 
 and sciences at their fingers' ends. Such peo- 
 ple always expect children to behave much 
 better than they feel any call to do them- 
 selves." 
 
 " What do you think of the doctor's plan, 
 Mark?" asked Veronica, as she "repeated it to 
 him. "Can we compass it, do you think? 
 You know it will involve taking the baby and 
 Becky; and that will be an expensive pro- 
 ceeding." 
 
 "We must compass it; and so we will con- 
 clude that we can," said Mark. " I think the 
 change will be good for all of us. Suppose, 
 how we are about it, we make a bold plunge, 
 and take Johnny and Rosy down to Maine to 
 see Grandmamma Speedwell? She has never
 
 KITTY 245 
 
 seen either of the children, and we have made 
 her but one short visit since our marriage. 
 That will combine the advantages of the long 
 journey, -the entire change, and the sea-side, 
 and Rosy will find so many new aunts, uncles, 
 and cousins that she will forget poor Aunt 
 Adela." 
 
 " I should like it very much indeed, if you 
 think it prudent," said Veronica. "Dear 
 grandmamma is eighty-four years old ; and, 
 hale and vigorous as she is, I always feel as 
 though every summer might be her last." 
 
 " Then we may consider the plan as settled, 
 at least as far as it can be without consulting 
 Becky. We must take her into our counsels." 
 
 Becky consented to the plan, with no more 
 than the expected amount of grumbling and 
 objection-making. It was plain that whatever 
 was done for Rosy must be done quickly; for 
 the child was losing strength and flesh every 
 day. In the course of a week Aunt Phebe 
 Ray was established as housekeeper in South 
 Avenue, and the whole family wore on their 
 way, by easy stages, to the small village upon 
 the coast of Maine, where Grand mamma Speed- 
 well was spending the happy and peaceful 
 remnant of her life, the centre of a large and
 
 246 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 loving circle of children and grandchildren, 
 down to the third generation. 
 
 The excellent author of those not-half-appre- 
 ciated books, " The Week" and " A Peep at 
 my Neighbours," somewhere remarks that no 
 person can be an old disciple without having 
 first been a young disciple. Grandmamma 
 Speedwell was an old disciple of more than 
 seventy years' standing. She had given her- 
 self to God so early in life that she could 
 hardly remember when she did not love him, 
 and through all her long and varied pilgrimage, 
 through storm and sunshine, light and dark- 
 ness, she had lived to him with a single-hearted 
 steadfastness of purpose which had saved her 
 many of the pangs and conflicts endured by 
 half-hearted Christians, those who are always 
 striving to get as much of the world as is con- 
 sistent with serving God at all. She had 
 received a good education, to begin with, and 
 she had never permitted her mind to rust, 
 never allowed herself to think that she was too 
 old to interest herself in any thing which in- 
 terested others. At eighty-four she was still 
 in possession of all her faculties, and the chosen 
 friend and confidant of all the younger people 
 about luv, from the .son who commanded a
 
 KITTY. 217 
 
 mighty East-Indiaman, to the great-grandson 
 who was making his first venture in naviga- 
 tion with a chip and a feather ; and for all she 
 had intelligent sympathy, encouragement, and 
 comfort under trouble. 
 
 The Speedwell family for generations had 
 taken to the water like ducklings, and their 
 houses were depositories of all sorts of marine 
 curiosities and foreign productions, especially 
 from China and the Indies. Among these 
 Rosy wandered at will, admiring, questioning, 
 hearing from uncles and great-uncles wonder- 
 ful legends of sea and land, and loaded with pre- 
 sents and curiosities. The third generation of 
 Speedwells ran mostly to boys; and, Rosy 
 being the only little girl of the tribe, she was 
 petted and caressed in a way that would have 
 been ruinous to a less thoroughly disciplined 
 child. Even Rosy was sometimes thrown a 
 little off' her balance, and showed signs of wil- 
 ful ness and self-conceit which had seldom been 
 seen in her before. 
 
 " Xever mind, my dear," said Grandmamma 
 Speedwell, to whom Veronica was regretting 
 some of these manifestations. " It is no 
 more than was to be expected. You cannot 
 alwavs keep the child in a glass case. Sooner
 
 248 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 or later she must go out into the world and 
 meet the world's temptations. All you can 
 do is to correct the faults as they appear ; and 
 caution is necessary even in that, lest in root- 
 ing up one fault you may plant others which 
 will be worse than the first. Such corrections 
 sometimes turn out like Nathan's weeding in 
 his father's young strawberry-bed the other 
 day. He got up all the weeds, without doubt: 
 only, he weeded up all the strawberry-plants as 
 well." 
 
 "If one could only have some plan to guide 
 one," said Veronica. 
 
 " I know of no plan which will answer on 
 all occasions, since no two children are alike, 
 and the same child varies almost from hour to 
 hour. There are a few great principles; but no 
 general rule can be laid down for their appli- 
 cation, that I know of." 
 
 "And what are those principles, grand- 
 mamma ?" 
 
 " Steady, reasonable authority, which allows 
 no margin for fretfulness and uncertainty ; 
 perfect sincerity in dealing with children ; and 
 the golden rule of doing to others as you would 
 be done by in the same position. These, I 
 think, are the great principles of government ;
 
 KITTY. 249 
 
 but their application must be influenced by 
 circumstances." 
 
 " I think that last rule that of doing to 
 children as you yourself would be done by 
 is one often lost sight of by older people," said 
 Veronica. " Even people who are ordinarily 
 well bred often seem to think that the rules of 
 good manners do not apply to children. They 
 expect the child to say, 'if you please/ and 
 'thank you/ to them ; but they never think of 
 saying so to the child." 
 
 " Exactly," said grandmamma, smiling. " I 
 noticed the involuntary face of disgust that 
 Rosy made up, the other day, when Aunt 
 Eunice helped her to pudding with her own 
 spoon. Eunice would have sent one of the 
 children away from the table and rightly, too 
 for such a breach of good manners ; yet she 
 did it herself without a thought. We see the 
 same thing every day in the way children's 
 amusements and possessions are interfered with 
 by their elders." 
 
 " Very true," said Veronica. " I have con- 
 tinually to stand between Rosy and Becky in 
 that respect. Becky is extremely fond of the 
 child, but her ruling passion is order. I made 
 her understand very early in our acquaintance
 
 250 THE TWIN ROSE.S. 
 
 that she must not interfere with Murk's desk 
 or my work-basket, however untidy they might 
 appear in her eyes ; but every now and then 
 comes a complaint from Rosy that Becky has 
 burned up all the papers she had to dress her 
 doll with, or hidden her box of buttons, or 
 put her play-drawer in order so that she cannot 
 find any thing. Becky loves neatness above 
 all things; and she does not comprehend that 
 Rosy's bits of coloured paper and strings of 
 buttons and hoards of odds and ends are as 
 valuable to the child as her own piece-bag and 
 multifarious balls of yarn and worsted are to 
 herself." 
 
 " I know of nothing which interferes more 
 entirely with the comfort of a family, no- 
 thing which is more belittling to the person 
 concerned, than that same passion for excessive 
 neatness," said Grandmamma Speedwell. " We 
 used to have, and indeed have still, an exempli- 
 fication of the effect of this mania, in the per- 
 son of old Mrs. Moreley I don't know that 
 you remember her, Veronica?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Veronica. "I recollect 
 the reply her little boy made when asked what 
 he would do if his mother died: ' I'd go up 
 the front stairs every day,' said he, promptly."
 
 KITTY. 251 
 
 " Exactly ; and it was quite evident that the 
 boy would have looked upon his mother's death 
 as a relief. I do not hesitate to say that Mrs. 
 Moreley has destroyed her influence over her 
 children, ruined the peace of her family and the 
 health of her daughters, and embittered the last 
 days of her husband's life, by her love of neat- 
 ness and order. He was one of the loveliest 
 and gentlest of Christians ; but more than once 
 I have seen the colour rise to his pale cheeks 
 and the tears to his eyes when scolded by his 
 wife for the spots on his clothes and on the 
 floor, caused by the food dropped from his 
 feeble, trembling hands. The boys had no 
 more use of the house than though they were 
 strangers. Every possession of theirs, not ab- 
 solutely necessary, was, however precious to 
 them, unceremoniously bundled into the fire. 
 No in-door amusements could be permitted, be- 
 cause they littered up the house. Annie's eyes 
 were irreparably ruined, and Julia's spine in- 
 jured for life, before they were eighteen, the 
 one by sewing in a room always darkened to 
 keep out the flies, the other by scrubbing and 
 carrying heavy pails of water while she was 
 growing fast. Mrs. Morely has been a mem- 
 ber of the church for many years; she dresses
 
 252 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 in the plainest manner, and probably never 
 went to a place of amusement . in her life. 
 Doubtless she would be much surprised to be 
 told that she is a thoroughly worldly woman; 
 and yet her heart is even now as much bound 
 up in the things of this world as that of any 
 fine lady who goes to Saratoga or Newport 
 with sixty dresses in her trunks." 
 
 "Where does she live now?" asked Vero- 
 nica. 
 
 "Alone in her own house. She has tried the 
 experiment of living with each of her children 
 in turn ; but none of the daughters-in-law are 
 neat enough for her, and Julia's husband will 
 not have her. Julia has married well, and 
 has a large family of children ; but Mr. 
 Crosby declares that grandmother spoils all 
 the comfort of the household, and that he will 
 not have his children's temper ruined by her 
 perpetual interference and fault-finding. And 
 really, my dear, I cannot blame him." 
 
 With so many objects to divert her mind, 
 and the salt air and sea-bathing to build up 
 her body, Rosy soon recovered from her ner- 
 vous disorder, and was as healthy and cheerful 
 as ever. The family remained on the coast till 
 the beginning of cool weather in the fall, and
 
 KITTY. 253 
 
 returned home by way of New York, to visit 
 Anne and Kitty. 
 
 Anne was still living in her boarding-house; 
 and, though she retained her deep mourning, 
 the crape and bombazine had assumed a cer- 
 tain jaunty air very different from that of their 
 earlier days. She received her friends with a 
 curious mixture of cordiality and embarrass- 
 ment. Kitty was not to be seen, and Veronica 
 naturally supposed she was at school. 
 
 " Will not Kitty be able to take a holiday 
 while Rosy is here?" she asked, by-and-by. 
 " It is a long time since the children have 
 been together." 
 
 The embarrassment of Anne's manner in- 
 creased : she coloured scarlet, and she seemed 
 to find a difficulty in replying to the question. 
 A thought flashed across Veronica's mind, but 
 she rejected it as absurd, and waited, in some 
 surprise, for an answer. 
 
 " Why, I can't say," stammered Anne ; and 
 then, recovering her voice, " The fact is, Vero- 
 nica, Kitty is not with me at present, and I 
 know very little about her. She has gone 
 South, to her father's friends." 
 
 " Not with Miss Brush ?" exclaimed Vero- 
 nica, at once enlightened, but hardly able to
 
 254 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 believe. You have not let Adela Brush 
 take Kitty home with her ? Oh, Anne ! I 
 could not have believed it." 
 
 " I don't know why you should say that, 
 Veronica," said Anne. " Adela was her own 
 aunt, and had the best right to her. She was 
 no relation to me; and I don't see why I was 
 to be burdened with her always, because I took 
 her in when she had nowhere else to go." 
 
 " Only that you made a solemn promise to 
 her dying mother to keep her as long as she 
 lived, and, above all, never to put her into the 
 hands of Adela Brush," said Veronica. " I 
 should think you would have remembered the 
 look and tone with which poor Daisy said, 
 ' Bind her out to a trade, send her to an asylum, 
 do any thing to her, rather than give her 
 into the power of her aunt Adela.'" 
 
 "No one minds promises to sick people," 
 said Anne. "One treats them like children : 
 any thing to keep them quiet. Adela con- 
 vinced me that Daisy's version of the story was 
 altogether exaggerated, if not false." 
 
 " You know Adela of old to be such a 
 truthful person!" said Veronica, bitterly. 
 
 " Oh, well, no doubt she has improved since 
 then. And, besides, to tell you the plain
 
 KITTY. 255 
 
 truth, Kitty had grown so naughty and dis- 
 agreeable that there was no living with her, at 
 least, I could not live with her, and J was 
 glad to turn her over to some one with more 
 authority. I am sure the annoyance and 
 mortification I have suffered with that child, 
 no one would believe. Theve was no trusting 
 her out of sight. She would promise in the 
 most serious way to go straight to school, and 
 then I would find out that she had l>ee-n plav- 
 ing in the street all the morning." 
 
 Veronica remembered Anne's principle, 
 "Nobody minds a promise to a child." 
 
 "She would not mind me ia the least," con- 
 tinued Anne. " I might call her a dozen 
 times, and she would never conje till I had 
 my hands upon her. She regularly answered 
 me back when I reproved her; and if I found 
 the least fault or did any thing she did not 
 like, the first thing was, ' I don't love you, 
 mamma. You are as ugly as you can be.'" 
 
 " Yes, I remember she used to say that 
 when she \vas only three years old," said Ve- 
 ronica, unable to suppress the remark. " I 
 told you then such speeches would not sound 
 as well when she was nine or ten." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course you told me sn," said 
 
 22
 
 256 THE TWIN HOSES. 
 
 Anne, in her old, peevish tone. " No doubt 
 you think it is all the fault of my manage- 
 ment." 
 
 Veronica did not contradict her. She cer- 
 tainly did think so. 
 
 "Come; you may as well have it out," con- 
 tinued Anne, as though determined to have a 
 quarrel at any rate. " Come ; say on. You 
 think I have done very wrong." 
 
 "If you had made up your mind to cast off 
 the child you had adopted, why did you not 
 speak to me?" asked Veronica. "I would 
 gladly have taken her, with all her faults on 
 her head, rather than have her delivered over 
 to the tender mercies of Adela Brush." 
 
 " That was just what Adela said," retorted 
 Anne. " She made me promise not to say 
 any thing to you about the matter till she was 
 gone, because, she said, you were so prejudiced 
 against her you would give her no peace. I 
 know you think I am a perfect monster, Ve- 
 ronica : so you might as well say so." 
 
 "It will be a terrible shock to Rosy," said 
 Veronica, determined not to quarrel if she 
 could help it. " She had so counted on seeing 
 her sister." 
 
 " Well, but now tell me, Veronica," con-
 
 KITTY. 257 
 
 tinned Anne, with her old persistence : " do 
 you think that I did so very wrong, after all ?" 
 
 "I do," replied Veronica. "Since you will 
 have ray opinion, Anne, I think you have 
 been very wrong. You have been guilty of a 
 breach of trust." 
 
 Anne began to cry. " I am sure I didn't 
 know what to do," she whimpered. " I could 
 not live with her any longer. I suppose you 
 will say that was my fault, too?" 
 
 " I think so," said Veronica. " You spoiled 
 her by mismanagement, and then, when the 
 mismanagement produced its legitimate fruits, 
 you turned her off. You would not believe 
 me when I told you that you were ruining the 
 child by allowing her to be disobedient and 
 impertinent when she was small, and that the 
 same faults would be intolerable by-and-by. 
 I must say, I think you have incurred a fear- 
 ful responsibility, and one that you will have 
 to answer both to the mother of the child and 
 to her Father in heaven. I cannot guess what 
 Mark will say." 
 
 Anne was evidently very uncomfortable in 
 her own mind. She had yielded to the temp- 
 tation to get rid of Kitty, led partly by Un- 
 real annoyance she experienced from the child. 
 R
 
 258 THE TWIN JlOSivS. 
 
 partly by Miss Brush's flatteries, for, warned 
 by experience, Adela had gone to work much 
 more skilfully with Anne than with Veronica. 
 But her conscience had all the time been 
 uneasy, and since Kitty was gone she had 
 missed her more than she had supposed possi- 
 ble. With all her talent for self-deception, she 
 could not deny the truth of Veronica's words; 
 and she would have given a good deal to get 
 Kitty back again. 
 
 The visit was an uncomfortable one on all 
 sides. Mark could not conceal his stern 
 displeasure, all the more effective from its con- 
 trast to his usual gracious kindliness. Rosy 
 was inconsolable for the loss of her sister, and 
 Veronica almost feared the shock to her feel- 
 ings would undo all she had gained. She took 
 an opportunity to question Jane about the 
 matter. 
 
 " Did Kitty go willingly ?" 
 
 " Well, ma'am, she did and she did not. 
 At first she was rather pleased with the notion 
 of going with Aunt Adela; but as soon as Miss 
 Brush began to try and govern her, which sho 
 did directly, Kitty began to dislike her." 
 
 "But at the last, Jane?" 
 
 "Well, ma'am, it was a curious time as ever
 
 KITTY. 259 
 
 I saw. You must know that Mrs. Campion 
 lias a great dread of a scene: so she told Kitty 
 she was not to go till the next day, and went 
 out, pretending she was going to buy her some- 
 thing. When the carriage came, Kitty refused 
 to go till mamma came home. Miss Brush 
 laughed, in that hard way she has, enough to 
 make one hate her, I am sure, if there was no- 
 thing else, and told her that mamma, as she 
 called her, had gone out on purpose to get rid 
 of saying good-by ! You never saw any 
 thing like that child's face, ma'am. She 
 stopped crying as if she had been struck dumb. 
 She turned as pale as death, and just walked 
 down-stairs and got into the carriage without 
 another word. Oh, it was a wicked thing to 
 send her away, Mrs. Campion ! To be sure, she 
 was troublesome, that can't be denied ; but 
 it was the training made her so. She was as 
 good as Miss Rosy to begin with. And as to 
 telling the truth, I don't know how she was 
 to learn, when her own mamma never told the 
 truth to her. She didn't, ma'am. She used to 
 promise things and to threaten things that she 
 never meant to do; and the child soon found 
 her out." 
 
 " Of course," said Veronica. 
 
 22-
 
 260 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 " I could not bear to have her go/' continued 
 Jane. "It seemed just like selling her for a 
 slave. I did take the liberty of writing to 
 you, ma'am; but, not knowing that you were 
 away, I directed to Milby." 
 
 " No doubt the letter was sent on to Bay- 
 port after we left," said Veronica. " I would 
 certainly have taken the child myself, rather 
 than have her go so far away from us all. 
 But it is done now, and all we can do to help 
 poor Kitty is to pray for her to that God who 
 is the Father of the fatherless and the Friend 
 of the friendless."
 
 MISS BROWN. 
 
 261 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MISS BROWN. 
 
 HAVE heard two pieces of news 
 to-day, Veronica," said Mark, as 
 he came in from the garden and 
 put on his dressing-gown and 
 slippers. 
 
 " Not very agreeable ones, I should 
 > say, to judge from the extra energy you 
 bestowed upon the uprooting of those 
 beau-vines," said Veronica. 
 
 "Not altogether, I must confess; and yet I 
 have no right to be offended, at one of them, 
 I mean ; for the other is entirely agreeable." 
 
 " I know the first, I am pretty sure," said 
 Veronica. 
 
 "Anne is going to be married!" 
 " Precisely," replied Mark, surprised. " But 
 how did you know it? Is it town-talk 
 already?" 
 
 "Not that I know of. I guessed it long
 
 262 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 ago, while we were there. I don't mean thai 
 she was engaged then, but she was thinking 
 about it. She showed it all over her. But 
 who is the happy man ?" 
 
 "A Mr. Van Dunker." 
 
 "What a name!" 
 
 " Immensely aristocratic, I assure you. He 
 is some years younger than she is, a young 
 1 man about town/ and, to judge from his pic- 
 ture which she sent to Mr. Clarendon, very 
 handsome and good-natured-looking." 
 
 "And I suppose he will spend all her money 
 as fast as possible." 
 
 "No: John took care of that. If she mar- 
 ries again, she is to have only the income of 
 her property for life, and at her death it is 
 divided, one-half to whatever children she 
 may have, the rest to his own family." 
 
 " Some people would wonder that you should 
 object to the marriage, that being the case," 
 said Veronica. 
 
 " I have no right to object, aside from that. 
 Anne is certainly old enough to know her own 
 mind, and I believe Van Dunker is a very 
 decent sort of young man, as young men go; 
 but I do think she might have waited till the 
 two years were up. It seems an insult to John's
 
 MISS BROWN. 26o 
 
 memory. I suppose all this accounts for her 
 willingness to dispose of poor Kitty." 
 
 " Partly, perhaps, but not altogether. Anne 
 grew very tired of her charge, and she had not 
 patience or sense of duty to enable her to bear 
 with the consequences of her own mismanage- 
 ment. It was a most cruel thing. I never can 
 think as well of Anne as I did before. I never 
 had any great opinion of her wisdom, but I 
 did not think her so heartless. She might at 
 least have given us the refusal of the child ; 
 but there her jealousy came in. Poor Kitty! I 
 would give a great deal to know how she gets 
 on in her new home. I fear she will have 
 some sad times. Adela has evidently high 
 notions of arbitrary government, and Kitty 
 has never been subjected to even a reasonable 
 authority. But what is your other piece of 
 news ?" 
 
 "Oh, I forgot it! Miss Brown's brother 
 has come home." 
 
 " No ! Not the real East Indian nabob ?" 
 
 " Even so : though he does not appear to me 
 to be any great things of a nabob. He seems 
 a plain, sensible kind of man, I should judge, 
 with some little temper of his own, but quite 
 attractive in appearance and manners."
 
 264 THE TWIN liOSES. 
 
 "What account does lie give of his long 
 silence?" 
 
 " He has been up-country, in the indigo busi- 
 ness, living quite among the natives, and sel- 
 dom hearing any news. He says he has written 
 and sent remittances to his sister again and 
 again, but, hearing nothing, he concluded she 
 was dead. At last some chance took him to 
 Singapore, where he met Charley Stephens 
 and his wife, and they told him his sister was 
 still alive when they left home. Upon that 
 he took a sudden start and came home to see 
 her? expecting to find her as he left her, 
 living in her ow r n house in comfort. He seems 
 to be greatly shocked at the state of things, 
 and, I imagine, treated Martha and her hus- 
 band to any thing but an agreeable scene. I 
 can readily conceive his wrath might be rather 
 terrific." 
 
 " I am glad of it, with all my heart !" 
 said Veronica. " How did you come across 
 him ?" 
 
 "He came to the office to see Clarendon, and 
 found only me. I remembered him on the 
 instant; for he was one of my heroes when I 
 was a boy, and he has changed wonderfully 
 little, all things considered. We had a long
 
 MISS BROWN. 265 
 
 talk, and I have asked him to dinner to-mor- 
 row. I thought we might have his sister to 
 meet him." 
 
 "To be sure we will, and Dr. and Mrs. 
 Courtland," said Veronica, heartily. " The doe- 
 tor will delight in him. I would have given 
 something to witness the scene between him 
 and the Jameses. I wonder what Miss Brown 
 will do?" 
 
 " Oh, he has not come home to stay. He 
 talks sensibly enough about that, I think. He 
 says all his interests are in India ; it is his 
 home, and he has no other intention than to 
 return and end his days there. His only care 
 is about his sister. He seems much distressed 
 at finding her the inmate of a charitable insti- 
 tution, and talks of establishing her in a home 
 of her own." 
 
 " He had very much better leave her where 
 she is, in my opinion," said Veronica. " She 
 cannot be so comfortable anywhere else." 
 
 " So I told him ; and he admitted that she 
 seemed very well off; but it is the charity 
 which seems to stick in his throat." 
 
 "And naturally enough, too; but it would 
 be easy to obviate that," remarked Veronica. 
 " He could give what he pleased to the Home,
 
 266 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 on the condition that it should be considered 
 an equivalent for his sister's board and lodg- 
 ing." 
 
 " There spoke all the managers in one 
 breath," said Mark, laughing. 
 
 " But is it not a good idea ?" 
 
 "Seriously, I think it is, my love; but of 
 course all will depend on Miss Brown's feel- 
 ings. She may prefer a change." 
 
 " As far as my influence goes, I shall use it 
 to keep her where she is. I do hope Martha 
 James will not persuade her aunt to go back 
 and live with her." 
 
 " She will gain nothing if she does," said 
 Mark. " Captain Brown told me he was 
 determined to do nothing towards such an 
 arrangement as that." 
 
 " Well, I shall see her to-morrow and find 
 out all about the matter," said Veronica. " I 
 must go and tell Becky." 
 
 "Becky, did you ever know Captain Brown, 
 Miss Brown's brother, who went to India so 
 many years ago ?" Veronica asked the ques- 
 tion while she was busy over her preserved 
 quinces, and, surprised at receiving no answer, 
 she looked up. Becky was elaborately iron- 
 ing one of Rosy's white frocks, and did not
 
 MISS BROWN. 267 
 
 seem to have heard. Veronica repeated the 
 question. 
 
 " Yes, I know him," said Becky, briefly. 
 "Why?" 
 
 " He has come home," said Veronica. " Mr. 
 Campion saw him to-day, and he is coming 
 here to-morrow." She paused, astonished at 
 the effect of her words. Becky, who rarely 
 showed emotion of any kind, had dropped her 
 iron, and was leaning back against the wall, as 
 white as the muslin under her hands. "Why, 
 Becky !" she exclaimed. " What is the matter?" 
 
 " Never mind," said Becky, recovering her 
 composure with a violent effort. " I am a fool : 
 that's all. Yes, I used to know him; but I 
 dare say he has forgotten all about me long 
 ago. Well, I might as well tell you all about 
 it," she added, presently. " We kept company 
 once, before he went away for good ; but some 
 evil tongues came between us. He was jealous, 
 and I was proud; and so we quarrelled, and 
 there was the end of it all. It was more my 
 fault than his: that was one comfort." 
 
 Veronica quite understood what Rebecca 
 meant. She said no more, but in her heart 
 she wondered whether it was quite the end. 
 She made up her mind that at least it should 
 
 23
 
 268 THE TWIN HOSES. 
 
 not be her fault if Captain Brown did not 
 find out that his old sweetheart was alive and 
 single. 
 
 The next morning she went round to the 
 Home in good season. As she tapped at Miss 
 Brown's door, she heard within a voice she 
 knew right well, partly whining, partly coax- 
 ing. " So here you are, my lady ?" said she to 
 herself. " Just as I expected ; but you shall 
 not gain your end, if I can help it." 
 
 Martha James was planted in one of 'the 
 arm-chairs directly in front of the fire, evi- 
 dently considerably excited. Miss Brown sat 
 knitting in her usual place, calm as usual, but 
 with a certain gentle, inflexible expression about 
 her mouth which her friend took for a good 
 omen. Veronica kissed her, and wished her 
 
 jy- 
 
 " Yes, I am greatly favoured," replied Miss 
 Brown. " I had so long ago given up my 
 brother as dead, that he seems to me like 
 one returned from another world. I found 
 myself questioning, this morning, whether it 
 was not a dream, after all ; and I did not feel 
 quite sure till I saw Nathan taking his coffee 
 opposite to me at my own breakfast-table." 
 
 " Yes, it is very nice," said Martha. " Only,
 
 MISS BROWN. 269 
 
 I do wish, as dear uncle has stayed away so 
 long, he had just waited a week or two longer, 
 till we got aunt nicely settled at home again. 
 You see, Mrs. Campion, the children are older 
 now, and out of the way, and we have been 
 thinking for some time, Tom and I have, 
 how much we should like to have dear aunt 
 back again to live with us. She would be so 
 much better off." 
 
 " I do not at all agree with you," said Ve- 
 ronica. " I think she is much better where 
 she is; and besides, Mrs. James, what becomes 
 of the two hundred dollars you paid into the 
 Home?" 
 
 " I suppose they would give it back, of 
 course." 
 
 " Not at all, I assure you. Your aunt has 
 boarded it out long since." 
 
 Mrs. James winced; but, after all, she con- 
 cluded that she must venture a small fish to 
 catch a large one. 
 
 " Well, perhaps that is so; though two hun- 
 dred dollars is a great deal to board out. But, 
 as I said, it is a great pity that we could not 
 have had it all arranged before uncle came." 
 
 " It certainly is," observed Veronica, with u 
 contempt she did uot try to conceal, " since
 
 270 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 some people might say that, after neglecting 
 your aunt for eight years, you have only taken 
 her up again because her rich brother has un- 
 expectedly turned up." 
 
 "They will have no occasion to say any 
 such thing," said Miss Brown. 
 
 "That's just what I think," interrupted Mar- 
 tha, eagerly. " Nobody but scandal-mongers 
 and story-tellers would ever think of such a 
 thing." 
 
 " They will have no occasion," pursued Miss 
 Brown, quietly, " simply for the reason that 
 I have no intention of making any change. I 
 have been here, as you say, Veronica, for eight 
 years, and have been treated with uniform 
 kindness. I have made friends whom I love. 
 I am able to be useful to others, especially to 
 the little ones in the other part of the house." 
 
 " I am sure you might be useful in teaching 
 my children, if that is all," again interrupted 
 Martha. " That is one of the things wo 
 thought about. I mean," she stammered, 
 seeing Veronica smile, " I meant " 
 
 " I understand you perfectly, Martha," said 
 Miss Brown. " But my mind is made up. I 
 shall never move again, unless the shelter of 
 this roof should be denied me. I have told
 
 MISS BROWN. 271 
 
 ray brother of my decision ; and, after talking 
 it over, he quite approves of it. As to your 
 children, I can do them quite as much good 
 here as in your own house, and probably more, 
 since when I have them by themselves I am 
 able to control them, which I could never do 
 at home. There is no use in saying any more, 
 Martha," she continued, as Martha opened her 
 lips to reply. " I came here to please you, but 
 1 remain to please myself." 
 
 " And you are right," said Veronica. " I 
 am very glad you have decided so wisely, and 
 that your brother sees it as you do." 
 
 " Just like you, Mrs. Campion! always in- 
 terfering !" said Martha, beginning to cry. " It 
 is too bad! and when I have told ever so many 
 people, too, that aunt w r as coming back to live 
 with us ; and Tom has gone down town to 
 buy new paper and carpets and all, he was so 
 sure." 
 
 " You should not have been in such a hurry 
 (o count your chickens," said Veronica. 
 
 " Martha, not another word," said Miss 
 Brown ; " at least, not upon this subject. I 
 heartily wish you had never brought it up, 
 both for your sake and mine; but say no more. 
 
 Rest assured that I shall always be ready to do 
 23
 
 272 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 all in my power to help you and your chil- 
 dren ; but this I cannot and will not do. Say 
 no more." 
 
 " I shall say what I please," retorted Mar- 
 tha. " I will never give it up till I tease you 
 into it," 
 
 " If that is your determination, I shall give 
 orders not to have you admitted," said Vero- 
 nica. "I will not have your aunt disturbed 
 by any such importunity." 
 
 " We shall see," retorted Martha, with a toss 
 of her head. "You a'n't the only person in 
 the world, Mrs. Campion, if your husband did 
 write a book." 
 
 Veronica only laughed; and Martha finally 
 took her departure. 
 
 "You do not know how glad I am to find 
 you so decided in this matter," said Veronica. 
 " I was very much afraid you would be per- 
 suaded to go away ; and I do not feel as though 
 we could spare you from the Home." 
 
 " I shall never leave the Home, so long as I 
 am permitted to remain here," replied Miss 
 Brown. " It has been indeed a Home to me. 
 For Martha's own sake, I would not go to live 
 with her. I know how soon it would be the 
 old story over again. Moreover, I can be more
 
 MISS BROWX. 273 
 
 useful to the children here than though I lived 
 in the house with them. At home they ai'e 
 utterly ungoverned. They used to invade my 
 room at all hours, and any attempt on my part 
 to control them was always bitterly resented by 
 their mother, and visited upon me in a way to 
 make me miserable for days together. Here in 
 my own home I can entertain them in such a 
 way as to make it agreeable for them to come, 
 and the being sent home is a penalty they do 
 not like to incur: so I can keep them in very 
 good order. It is singular how much more 
 they think of me, now that I am in a position 
 to command their respect." 
 
 " I dare say," said Veronica. " Is not the 
 oldest girl in rather a bad way as regards 
 health? I see her in Sunday-school; and I 
 should be very sorry to notice those pink-and- 
 white cheeks and clear eyes upon any child of 
 mine." 
 
 " She is being regularly sacrificed, killed 
 by inches !" said Miss Brown, sighing. "Jenny 
 was allowed to run wild till she was about thir- 
 teen. She was never taught to work, or to 
 employ herself in any way within-doors, but 
 permitted to run as much as she pleased out 
 of school: indeed, she almost grew up in the
 
 274 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 street. Her lessons in school were a mere farce ; 
 as how could they be otherwise, when we con- 
 sider that there were in her school-room no less 
 than sixty little children from six to ten years 
 old ? At twelve she could not read as well as 
 your Rosy did when she was six. Well, about 
 two years ago Martha and Tom all at once 
 woke up to the fact that Jenny was a dunce, 
 that she was learning nothing at school, and 
 was of less than no use at home. Then, on a 
 sudden, all was changed. Jenny was withdrawn 
 from the public school and sent to Mrs. Mar- 
 tin's, where she was loaded with as many les- 
 sons as that lady could be persuaded to give 
 her, besides music-lessons out of school. The 
 girl's own ambition was roused at finding her- 
 self associated with those of her own age who 
 seemed so much in advance of her. She was 
 in school from nine till four, and all her even- 
 ings were given to her books ; and when you 
 know that she had no less than five different 
 studias, besides music and painting, you will 
 not wonder that she had to work late and early 
 to keep up her standing in the school. Just 
 at the most critical time of her life, when she 
 specially needed out-of-door exercise and abun- 
 dant repose of mind and body, she was over-
 
 MISS BROWN. 275 
 
 worked in a way that no reasonable person 
 would allow in a young man of twenty in col- 
 lege. As a consequence, her health has broken 
 down ; she is subject to all sorts of hysterical 
 atfections; she has a constant cough, and is 
 going down the hill that has but one ending, 
 as fast as possible. But Martha is blind. Mrs. 
 Martin herself suggested that Jenny had better 
 be taken out of school; but the only conse- 
 quence was that Jenny was removed from her 
 establishment and placed in that of Miss Brad- 
 ley, who ought to have been a cattle-driver, I 
 think," concluded Miss Brown. " She would 
 have exactly suited that position." 
 
 " I know her well," said Veronica. " I taught 
 in her school one year. Poor Jenny! I believe 
 a great many girls are sacrificed in the same 
 way. The discipline of mind and body which 
 ought to be spread over at least eighteen years 
 is all crammed into five or six. Perhaps those 
 are the happiest who die in the process, in- 
 stead of living on in miserable ill health all 
 their lives after. A great many, however, 
 merely turn out dunces. They give the whole 
 force of their minds to resisting the cramming 
 process and trying how little they can learn. 
 
 " But, to change the subject, I want you and
 
 276 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 your brother to come round to our house to 
 dinner at four o'clock. Now, I shall take no 
 denial." 
 
 " Why, you know, Veronica, I never go 
 anywhere; but, this being a special occasion, 
 I suppose I must break through my rule for 
 once. As to Nathan," she added, smiling, " I 
 think it is likely he is at your house now. I 
 happened to mention Rebecca this morning, 
 perhaps you don't know." 
 
 "Yes, I do," said Veronica, much amused. 
 "And so he has found her already? Well, 
 I won't be selfish enough to hope that they 
 will renew their quarrel; though I cannot 
 even begin to guess how I should live with- 
 out Becky." 
 
 On leaving the Home, Veronica called 
 at Dr. Courtland's, and then went round to 
 order certain matters for her dinner-table. 
 As she reached her own gate, she was con- 
 fronted by a tall, bearded figure, sunburnt 
 and stalwart, just issuing therefrom, and 
 caught a vision of Becky vanishing in the 
 distance. The stranger lifted his hat with an 
 amused sort of conscious expression, and walked 
 rapidly down the street. 
 
 "Oh, ho! So you have found your way
 
 MISS BROWN. 277 
 
 round already, have you?" said Veronica. 
 " But I must know more about you before 
 you carry off Becky, if you were the greatest 
 nr.bob in India. I should like to know 
 how my company-dinner has fared all this 
 time."
 
 278 
 
 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 BECKY. 
 
 'HE company-dinner did not ap- 
 pear to have suffered materially. 
 Every thing was going on as 
 usual in the kitchen. Nelly was 
 helping, as she commonly did upon 
 emergencies, and Becky was elabo- 
 rating her pie-crust as composedly as 
 though nothing had happened. Veronica 
 glanced at her face, and there indeed was a 
 change. The stern, repressed expression, which 
 she had worn till it had become habitual to 
 her, seemed to have been put away like a 
 mask. She appeared to have grown twenty 
 years younger in a day, and looked again as 
 Veronica remembered her when they first met 
 at Mrs. Campion's on one of Veronica's vaca- 
 tion-visits. Presently Veronica sent Nelly on 
 an errand, and busied herself with something 
 in the kite lien, on purpose to give Rebecca an
 
 BECKY. 279 
 
 opportunity of speaking, if she were so dis- 
 posed. For some little time she worked at 
 her tarts in silence. " Mrs. Mark/' said she, 
 finally, "do you believe in answers to 
 prayer ?" 
 
 " Why, Becky, I hardly see what use there 
 would be in praying unless one did believe in 
 answers," said Veronica. " Where would be 
 the object ?" 
 
 " Some folks say that the only use is to com- 
 pose and settle our own minds," observed 
 Becky. " I picked up a book the other day, 
 I guess it was one of those Mr. Clarendon sent 
 in to be noticed, which said that it was use- 
 less, and even impious, to pray for temporal 
 blessings." 
 
 " I do not believe in either view," said Ve- 
 ronica. " I suppose that when God tells us, 
 by his apostle, 'In every thing by prayer and 
 supplication let your requests be made known 
 unto God,' he means just what he says; and 
 therefore I feel at perfect liberty to go to him 
 with all my wants and desires." 
 
 " But God does not always give us all we 
 ask him for," said Becky. 
 
 " No, fortunately for us. If I thought God 
 was sure to give rne every thing I asked of 
 
 24
 
 280 THE TWIN ROKES. 
 
 him, I should hardly dare ask for any thing; 
 but because I have perfect confidence in his 
 infinite wisdom as well as in his unchanging 
 love, because I believe that he can give me 
 every thing that I desire, and grudges me 
 nothing that is either profitable or pleasant to 
 me, therefore I am bold to come to him with 
 all my requests, great and small. I do not 
 think there can ever be either danger or pre- 
 sumption in taking our heavenly Father at his 
 word." 
 
 "He keeps us waiting a long time, some- 
 times," said Becky. 
 
 " Yes, even till another world, oftentimes, I 
 suspect." 
 
 " I am sure I thought that was the way he 
 meant to do with me," said Becky. "Oh, 
 how I have prayed that I might have a chance 
 just to say that I was sorry, just to set things 
 right ! I didn't ask any more than that. Then, 
 when, after all my prayers, I heard he was 
 dead, oh, it seemed to cut the very ground 
 from under my feet ! I was like one lost, for a 
 while. I had always believed that I should 
 be heard, it seemed as though it must be 
 asking according to his will, to desire to set 
 right what I had done wrong, and then, I
 
 BECKY. 281 
 
 thought, if God denied me in this, what reason 
 have I to think he will hear me in any thing ? 
 Oh, it was a dark, dark time! I don't know, 
 now, how I lived." 
 
 " It is often hard for us to tell how we lived 
 through the trials we look back upon," said 
 Veronica. " I suppose it is because God has 
 more work for us to do, or because he sees that 
 we are not yet ready to go." 
 
 " I suppose he saw that in me ; " continued 
 Becky; "but I could see nothing, nothing 
 but darkness. In one way it was good for me. 
 I never understood how I lived upon my trust 
 in God, till that trust was taken away. But, 
 oh, it was a dreary time !" 
 
 "And how did the light come, finally?" 
 asked Veronica. 
 
 " It came by degrees, without any help of my 
 own," replied Becky. " At first in glimpses, 
 soon lost again. But by-and-by I reflected 
 that this world was not all, that there was 
 another, where the matter might be set right 
 yet, that it might be set right already, for all 
 I knew ; and somehow, by degrees, I grew 
 nuiet again, and was contented to live for the 
 work I had to do, till God's time came. I 
 never looked forward to any thing else in this
 
 282 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 world, and don't now, for that matter," con- 
 cluded Becky, briskly giving a last pinch to 
 her pie, and setting it aside with a decided air, 
 as though it represented something which was 
 altogether finished, and not to be taken up 
 again ; " for as to going out to India, and all 
 that, of course it is out of the question, and not 
 to be thought of." 
 
 "So it has come to that already, has it?" 
 thought Veronica. " Upon ray word, my gen- 
 tleman has not let the grass grow under his 
 feet." " I would not decide upon any thing 
 hastily, Becky," said she. " Wait a little, and 
 be guided by Providence. You made one 
 serious mistake, it seems, by being in a hurry; 
 don't make another, but pray for direction 
 before you. come to a final conclusion." 
 
 The days went on, and Captain Brown still 
 lingered, having, as it appeared, got over his 
 hurry to return to India. The more Veronica 
 saw of him, the better she liked him. He had 
 seen a great deal of the world, upon all its sides, 
 and had profited by his experience. He was 
 seriously and unaffectedly religious, full of 
 energy, and earnestly desirous to benefit the 
 people under his employ. Rosy looked upon 
 him as a living story-book, full of lions and
 
 BECKY. 283 
 
 tigers, whales and elephants, gotten up for her 
 special edification; and she was inclined to be 
 rather cross with Becky for occupying so much 
 of his time. 
 
 " There are the captain and Becky talking 
 out by the gate yet," said she, impatiently, one 
 evening, and peeping between the curtains for 
 the tenth time. " I do wish he would come 
 in. I can't think what they find to talk about 
 so long : can you, papa ?" 
 
 " I cannot possibly imagine," replied Mark, 
 with a twinkle in his eye ; " but have patience, 
 Rosy. I dare say we shall find out some day." 
 
 The day came all too soon for Eosy, when 
 she found out what Becky and the captain 
 talked about. Becky was one morning help- 
 ing Veronica about some necessary rummaging 
 in the garret, where were stored a great many 
 things belonging to Mrs. Campion and Anne. 
 It was a favourable time for confidences. The 
 rain pattered softly upon the roof, the house 
 was all quiet, and Veronica and Becky sat on 
 the floor together, beside a great leather-covered 
 trunk, which had made many journeys from 
 Albany to a neighbouring town, in the days 
 when canals and railroads were not, and Milby 
 itself boasted of only one log hut. 
 
 2 i---
 
 284 THE TWIN ..ROSES. 
 
 " How these things take one back to old 
 times !" said Becky. " There is a piece of the 
 first French calico I ever had. Mr. John 
 gave it to me, and I thought I was made; for 
 in those days we considered a French calico 
 good enough for any thing." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be better for us if we 
 thought so now," replied Veronica. " I often 
 sigh over the days when a pretty delaine was 
 dress enough for any but very extraordinary 
 occasions. Then it was a rare thing to see a 
 silk dress in the street in Milby. But I sup- 
 pose it is natural for people, as they grow older, 
 to look back and say that the former days were 
 better than these." 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Mark, don't you begin to call 
 yourself old," said Becky. " If you do, I shall 
 never have the courage to tell you any thing ; 
 for I feel all the time as though I was making 
 an old fool of myself." 
 
 " In what particular direction ?" asked Ve- 
 ronica, smiling; "and what is it that you want 
 to tell me ?" 
 
 " Well ! there is that old sampler of mine 
 that I have looked for so often!" replied 
 Becky, holding up the article in question. "I 
 remember how proud I felt when I had worked
 
 BECKY. 285 
 
 that picture at the bottom. I mean to give it 
 to Rosy." 
 
 " Come, Becky !" urged Veronica. " I know 
 that was not what you were going to say." 
 
 " Captain Brown is going back to India next 
 month," said Becky, after another pause, during 
 which her face was buried in the trunk. 
 
 " Well," said Veronica, "and he wants you 
 to go with him, I suppose? Is that the 
 secret ?" 
 
 "Well, yes: I suppose that is the amount 
 of it," said Becky. " But he is not going to 
 stay. He is going to sell out and come back 
 in a little while, say about two years." 
 
 "Oh ! and he wants you to wait for him till 
 he comes back ?" said Veronica, mischievously. 
 "Well, that will give you a good long time to 
 make your preparations." 
 
 "Well, no. You see, we are neither of us 
 as young as we have been, and and it would 
 be kind of dreary for him to go all that way 
 back alone ; and so, I do feel real bad about 
 going away and leaving you, Mrs. Mark, that 
 is a fact; but then, you see, it seems as if " 
 
 "As if you owed something to him. Well, 
 Becky, I shall be very sorry to lose you, more 
 sorry than I can tell ; but I do think you have
 
 286 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 kept the poor captain waiting about long 
 enough." 
 
 "And there is another reason for my going, 
 Mrs. Mark," said Becky, eagerly. " There is 
 that poor little Jenny James. Dr. Woodman 
 says that a long sea-voyage and a change of 
 climate would probably save her life. Na- 
 than would like to take her along with him; 
 and of course she can't go without some one to 
 take care of her." 
 
 "Of course not," replied Veronica. "And 
 so you mean to take poor Jenny with you. 
 Well, I must say, it is very kind in the captain, 
 after all the provocation the James family have 
 given him. He tells me lie has serious sus- 
 picions that Tom James appropriated some, at 
 least, of the remittances he sent to his sister." 
 
 " The poor girl is not to blame for the faults 
 of her father and mother," said Becky. 
 
 "Certainly not. I dare say she will make 
 a very pleasant companion for you. But, 
 Becky, have you considered well? It is a 
 serious undertaking, going so far from home, 
 among strangers." 
 
 "And heathens, too! That's the worst of 
 it," said Becky. " I keep thinking of that 
 picture in the London News, of the servants
 
 BECKY. 287 
 
 straining their master's coffee through the dirty 
 sock, and apologizing by saying that they 
 never took master's clean socks. But then, 
 you see, it was my fault that he went there in 
 the first place ; and it is not as if we were 
 going to stay." . 
 
 " Well/' said Veronica, " I shall say no- 
 thing against it. I think, with you, that you 
 owe a duty to Captain Brown, and that it is 
 much better for you both that you should be 
 married now than that you should wait longer. 
 I shall not know how to live without you, 
 Becky ; but I have no right to require you to 
 make such a sacrifice to me as this long waiting 
 would be. I think you have decided rightly; 
 and I am quite sure that Mark will agree 
 with me." 
 
 Mark did agree, and so did Miss Brown, 
 that the marriage had much better take place 
 directly. Rosy alone withheld her consent. 
 She could not see why Becky should want to 
 go clear away to India, among the tigers and 
 snakes, for the sake of that old Captain Brown. 
 She thought him very cruel to take her away, 
 and refused to see any parallel between him 
 and Becky and papa and mamma. Veronica 
 tried to show her that she was selfish in re-
 
 288 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 quiring Becky to stay at home for her sake; 
 but Rosy would not be convinced. It was not 
 for her own sake, but for Becky's, that she 
 objected; and she remained to the last wholly 
 unreconciled. 
 
 Mrs. James made a great favour of let- 
 ting Jenny go with Captain Brown, while in 
 her heart she rejoiced in the success of her 
 schemes to worm her daughter into her uncle's 
 good graces. She was very indignant when 
 she heard of the proposed marriage, and talked 
 a great deal of the degradation of such a 
 match; but a hint from the captain silenced 
 her. 
 
 " Your family, Mrs. James ! Pray, who are 
 they, if I may be so bold as to ask ?" 
 
 Mrs. James coloured with rage; but she said 
 no more. 
 
 The wedding was to take place two weeks 
 before the time of sailing. Veronica's sewing- 
 machine ran all day long in Becky's behalf. 
 
 The captain produced a gay brocade and a 
 white cashmere shawl, which made his bride 
 the envy of half the ladies in Milby. The 
 wedding took place in church. Rosy so far 
 relented as to act as bridesmaid, in a white 
 muslin frock, and a most wonderful sash, the
 
 28!> 
 
 gift of the bridegroom. Mark gave away the 
 bride, and all went off well. 
 
 Jenny James, relieved from school and lessons 
 and delighted with the prospect of her journey, 
 seemed better already, and the doctor prophe- 
 sied great things for her. They were to go by 
 the way of the Red Sea ; and Mark somewhat 
 comforted Rosy by taking her down to New 
 York and on board the ocean-steamer, to see 
 them off.
 
 290 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 KITTY. 
 
 yE must now ask our readers to make 
 a long step, both as regards time 
 and space, in order that we may 
 follow the fortunes of another of 
 our personages. The time is about 
 five years in advance of our last 
 chapter; the place, a large, old-fashioned 
 house in an ancient quarter of New Or- 
 leans. In an upper room of this house lies u 
 helpless invalid. It is easy to see that she has 
 no use of her lower limbs, and but little of her 
 hands; while in her face, once handsome, and 
 still striking, but wrinkled and sharpened by 
 pain and impatience, we have some difficulty 
 in recognizing Adela Brush. Who, then, is this 
 in attendance upon her, this tall, dark girl, so 
 strikingly beautiful, but sad, and wearing a 
 repressed and almost stern expression? Can 
 that be Kitty Campion ? Even so.
 
 KITTY. 291 
 
 What a melancholy lot was hers ! Assiduous 
 devotion to the necessities and caprices of an 
 invalid, who repaid kindness with reproaches, 
 and self-sacrifice with railing or contempt! 
 
 In the hard task of endurance she found an 
 invaluable aid in the faithful Chloe, who on 
 one occasion, when Miss Brush had been un- 
 usually petulant, counselled her thus : 
 
 " Never mind, Miss Kitty, honey : don't ye 
 fly out and get angry, whatever she says. You 
 know that's no use." 
 
 " I'll try, Chloe," said Kitty. " I do try 
 every day, and I am sorry whenever I answer 
 her back; but she is so awfully provoking." 
 
 " That's a fact, she is," answered Chloe; "and 
 I think she's worse now that she has nothing 
 else but her tongue to use. She is, and she 
 always was, the hardest person to get on with 
 that ever I see. I do think, Miss Kitty, ye do 
 'rnazin' well, considerin'. But I'm goin' to get 
 her breakfast ready before I goes up, anyway, 
 and yours too, honey. It's 'mazin' little there 
 is to get, anyhow." 
 
 " I am afraid it will be less before long," 
 said Kitty, sighing. "I have no more money; 
 and I don't know where money is to come 
 from, unless I sell something else out of the 
 
 25
 
 292 THE TWIX ROSES. 
 
 house; and Aunt Adela won't hear of any 
 thing like that." 
 
 " Well, then, honey, you'll just have to take 
 the law in your own hands," said Chloe. 
 " Miss Addy must eat, and so must you. But 
 we needn't take trouble before it conies. The 
 Lord '11 provide." 
 
 Now let us return for a season to the North. 
 
 Miss Brush had no sooner heard from her 
 lawyer that Rosy had a sister living with her 
 old schoolmate Anne Holley, than her plans 
 were formed. How they succeeded, we well 
 know. Anne was in truth heartily weary of 
 her charge. Kitty was indeed a trial. Sys- 
 tematically trained from her earliest years to 
 self-indulgence in every form within her reach, 
 allowed her own way in every thing and with 
 everybody, she was at nine years old as haughty, 
 selfish, and discontented as was to be expected. 
 She had become a nuisance of no common 
 order, there was no denying it; and Anne 
 had neither patience nor principle to enable her 
 to bear with the work of her own hands. Be- 
 sides, she was meditating the entering into a 
 new relation, in which there seemed to be no 
 place for Kitty. She was easily persuaded that, 
 after all, Miss Brush had the best right to her
 
 KITTY. 293 
 
 brother's daughter, that no doubt poor Daisy 
 had exaggerated her grievances, that Adela 
 had had great provocation, that she was just 
 the person, with her firmness, to manage Kitty, 
 and, as she was rich and had no children, it 
 would be for the child's good in the end. In 
 short, she was weary enough of her charge to 
 be ready to get rid of her at the first chance; 
 and here was one ready-made to her hand. 
 
 At first, Kitty was pleased enough with the 
 idea of a change. She had got the idea firmly 
 fixed in her mind that all her troubles arose 
 from her position as an adopted child, and she 
 thought an own aunt would be better than a 
 mother who was no mother after all. 
 
 She soon found out her mistake; and almost 
 from the first there was open war between 
 them. The journey was one scene of dispute 
 and disobedience ; but Miss Brush waited for 
 the grand trial of strength till she should be 
 in her own house. She reckoned without her 
 host. The battle was fought, and Kitty came 
 off conqueror. Headstrong and spoiled as she 
 was, she had one accessible point. She was 
 capable of strong affection for any one who 
 inspired respect in her, and a person she once 
 loved she loved forever afterwards. Unluckily,
 
 294 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 it was upon this very side that Miss Brush chose 
 to attack her. A few days after their arrival in 
 New Orleans, a visitor asked Kitty her name. 
 
 " Catherine Brush Campion," was the reply. 
 It was given without thought, as Kitty had 
 all her life been called by the name of her 
 adopted father ; but Miss Brush chose to con- 
 sider it a direct act of rebellion and a premedi- 
 tated insult to herself. 
 
 "Your name is Catherine Brush, and no- 
 thing else," said she, sternly. " Let me never 
 hear the name of that man again." 
 
 Kitty's spirit was roused in an instant. "My 
 name is Kitty Campion, and nothing else," 
 cried she, with flashing eyes. " My dear papa 
 was better than any one here; and I will men- 
 tion his name whenever I please." 
 
 "Very well, miss." We will settle that 
 presently," said Miss Brush, grimly. The 
 visitor departed; and then came a terrible 
 scene. Miss Brush insisted that Kitty should 
 promise never to call herself Campion again. 
 Kitty declared she would never call herself 
 any thing else. Miss Brush undertook to 
 chastise her into obedience, and Kitty seized 
 the hearth-broom and dealt her aunt a blow 
 on the face which left its mark for a week.
 
 KITTY. 295 
 
 Finally, when her shrieks had attracted a 
 crowd in front of the house, she was dragged 
 up-stairs by main force and imprisoned in a 
 back garret, where she was kept without food 
 until late the next day. All in vain. Natural 
 obstinacy, wounded aifection, and the sense of 
 injustice, combined to support her, and, though 
 she was so faint she could hardly speak, there 
 was unconquerable resolution in the tone in 
 which she answered to Miss Brush's repeated 
 question, " Catherine Brush Campion." 
 
 Here was a dilemma! Miss Brush had for 
 once met her match. She dared not keep the 
 child longer without food; but, behold, when 
 food was offered, Kitty would not eat! In 
 fact, she could not. She had fasted just to the 
 point where food was distasteful to her, and 
 she turned from it with loathing. She was 
 put to bed in her aunt's room, and awoke her 
 in the night with a frightful attack of croup, 
 to which she had always been subject. Miss 
 Brush had never seen the disease, and did not 
 know its danger ; but Chloe did, and at once 
 despatched a messenger for the doctor. Puz- 
 zled at the condition in which he found the 
 child, he questioned those around her, and 
 found out the true state of the case. He was 
 
 25*
 
 290 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 an old family friend, and well knew Miss 
 Brush's character. 
 
 "You have ail-but murdered the child/ : 
 said he, sternly. " Exhausted as she JR, the 
 chances are a hundred to one against her rally- 
 ing. Were you mad? Do you want another 
 coroner's inquest in the house ?" 
 
 "What was I to do?" asked Miss Brush, 
 sullenly. " The child would not obey me. 
 Was I to give up to her ?" 
 
 " You acted like a fool in provoking a con- 
 test upon such a subject," replied Dr. Fuller. 
 " If the battle must come, why not let it eome 
 upon some point of real consequence, and not 
 upon one in which all the poor child's affec- 
 tions were engaged? One such piece of injus- 
 tice and cruelty was enough to destroy your 
 influence with her forever. Suppose you had 
 conquered : what do you think you would 
 have gained? Nothing but the child's un- 
 dying hatred and distrust." 
 
 " I was a fool to have any thing to do with 
 her," said Miss Brush. 
 
 " Ay, there I agree with you ; but, now you 
 have got her, remember that children are not 
 always to be straightened, like crooked nails, 
 by sheer hammering, and that even in ham-
 
 KITTY. 297 
 
 mering a nail it is necessary to strike in the 
 right place, to do any good." 
 
 The struggle was a severe one ; but Kitty's 
 good constitution triumphed, and, after twenty- 
 four hours' hard fighting, she was pronounced 
 out of immediate danger. A low fever fol- 
 lowed the attack, and it was two weeks before 
 Kitty was able to leave her bed. Now was 
 the time for Miss Brush, in some measure, to 
 undo the harm she had done, and by kindness 
 and attention to gain the child's heart. But no: 
 Miss Brush hated a sick-room. She was no 
 nurse, she said, which was true enough ; and 
 she lacked the unselfish affection which might 
 supply the place of skill. She contented her- 
 self with providing every thing the doctor re- 
 commended, and coming once or twice a day to 
 .stand for a moment at the bedside and ask a few 
 questions, to which Kitty would hardly ever 
 reply. At last she recovered; but Miss Brush 
 never again approached the subject of her 
 name. Conquered once, her pride would not 
 let her risk a second defeat. 
 
 For a while Kitty seemed entirely changed. 
 A sullen, brooding dulness appeared to have 
 taken the place of her former vivacity of tem- 
 per. She hardly ever replied to her aunt's
 
 298 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 sarcasms, or responded to her rare approaches to 
 something like affection. Miss Brush sent her 
 to school, where she got on tolerably well, 
 considering her bad training. It would be 
 hard to find a more unhappy child than poor 
 Kitty was at this time. She lived in a state 
 of constant hostility to her aunt and to most 
 of her school-fellows. Her teachers could 
 make nothing of her. Miss Brush hated ani- 
 mals of every kind, and would allow no pets 
 about the house; and if the servants smuggled 
 in a kitten or puppy for Kitty's benefit, it was 
 sure to be persecuted without mercy. Kitty 
 had but two friends. One was Dr. Fuller, who 
 had 4 become interested in the forlorn child, and 
 the other was Chloe. With neither of these 
 two could Miss Brush afford to quarrel, and the 
 latter was especially necessary to her in the ser- 
 vices required by the increasing but carefully 
 concealed disorder under which she laboured. 
 
 As though determined to set pain at defiance, 
 as she had done every thing else, Miss Brush 
 went into company more and more; and the 
 happiest hours Kitty knew were those in which 
 her aunt was away, and she spent the evening 
 with Chloe, hearing her sing her Methodist 
 hymns, reading the Bible to her, and listening
 
 ffifjt Ctotn Haste 
 
 ' You've got to love the Lord, and try to please him." p. 299.
 
 KITTY. 299 
 
 to stories about her own mother, and about the 
 aunt Catherine for whom she was named. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Kitty, my lamb, if you would 
 only take after her !" Chloe would say. " You'se 
 going to look jest like her ; but you haven't 
 got her sperrit, honey. She was as meek as a 
 lamb, poor dear!" And then Chloe would 
 repeat the story of Catherine's gentleness, of 
 her attachment and engagement, broken off' by 
 the pride of her family, of her piety and her 
 early death. "You see, she wasn't afraid to 
 die," she would conclude. " She know'd she 
 w r as goin' to her Father's house of many man- 
 sions, you was readin' about just now; and she 
 was glad to go." 
 
 " I wish I was there !" said Kitty, one night. 
 "Then I should see my dear papa Campion." 
 
 'Ah, my lamb, but you'se got to be a dif- 
 ferent child from what you are now," said 
 Chloe. " You'se got to love the Lord, and try 
 to please him and be like him ; and you don't 
 do that now. Your poor little heart's full of 
 hatred and spite, and you don't forgive. You 
 hate poor Aunt Adela; and that a'n't the sper- 
 rit that was in Christ Jesus. He loved his 
 enemies and died for 'em; and he loves poor 
 Miss Addy, though she hates his very name.
 
 300 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 You can't go to heaven while you'se like that, 
 honey. You can't never go to heaven while 
 you hate anybody." 
 
 "Then I can't go at all, Chloe; for I can't 
 help it," 
 
 "But the dear Lord can help it for you, 
 honey. He can give you the Holy Spirit, and 
 change your heart, so's you'll love what you 
 hated before, and hate what you loved before. 
 He can, my lamb. He did it for me, and I'm 
 sure he will for you." And Chloe proceeded 
 to tell Kitty her own story, a tale of wrongs 
 too common in those dark days, and which 
 need not be repeated here. " Think of that, 
 my lamb ! And if he could do that for me, 
 couldn't he do it for you, that's so much 
 younger and has so much less to get over?" 
 
 This was not the first nor the last of such 
 conversations. In one sense, the soil was pre- 
 pared for the good seed. Kitty's very desola- 
 tion made her feel the need of a friend. A 
 we have seen, she could love deeply where she 
 could respect; and the character of our Lord, 
 as she read of it in the Gospels, attracted both 
 respect and love. She began to think of him 
 as Chloe did, as a real, living, always present, 
 all-powerful friend, and to wish to have him
 
 KITTY. 301 
 
 on her side. Then came fierce conflicts. She 
 would resolve and re-resolve to please him and 
 be like him; but the first sneer or sarcasm 
 from her aunt would upset all her resolutions 
 and bring on a fit of anger and rebellion which 
 drove her to despair. Then she prayed for 
 help against her sins, and for pardon; and at 
 last, with Chloe's help, she found the peace 
 which comes from a consciousness of accept- 
 ance with God through Christ's atoning blood. 
 
 She had a hard time, poor child, after all. 
 The selfish and rebellious habits of her life- 
 time came back to plague her. She had never 
 been taught any self-control; and it was hard 
 to learn now. Her aunt's sneers and taunts 
 .seemed to increase in proportion to her efforts 
 to meet them in a Christian spirit; for Miss 
 Brush was not one to be disarmed by gentle- 
 ness. But those on Kitty's side were stronger 
 than those against her, and slowly, with many 
 falls and hard bruises, with many conflicts and 
 not a few defeats, she advanced in the way that 
 leads to life. 
 
 At last Adela's disease reached a point at 
 which it could no longer be concealed. She 
 \vas attacked, in addition, by a sort of paralysis, 
 which confined her to her bed and made her
 
 302 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 entirely dependent upon those about her. She 
 was now to find out the worth of the strong 
 will she had always boasted of as able to sus- 
 tain her under any trials. She found it could 
 not so much as bring to her lips a glass of water, 
 though it stood under her longing eyes. She 
 was dependent for the very means of existence 
 upon those whom she had always ill treated, 
 and who now had it in their power to repay 
 her with interest. Well was it for her that a 
 stronger hand than hers had been dealing with 
 them, undoing the mischief she had wrought. 
 
 Poverty was now added to her trials. Of 
 her servants in New Orleans, some had been 
 sold to supply the pressing needs of the house, 
 some had run away, some had died. At the 
 time our story finds her, there was no one 
 left in her large and stately house but Chloe 
 and Kitty; and neither of them knew where 
 to look for next day's meal. But for Chloe's 
 ti rnely discovery of some coffee, Kitty would have 
 breakfasted on dry bread and water. Piece 
 after piece of silver had been sold, until little 
 remained to dispose of *but family jewels, which 
 Adela would not hear of parting with.
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 303 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 JISS ADDY'S asleep now," said 
 Chloe, presently coming down to 
 the room where Kitty was still 
 lingering over her cup of coffee, 
 think likely she'll have a long 
 nap. You just go and sit by her, and 
 I'll do up the work, and then I'll just 
 curl down and have a sleep myself. I'se 
 powerful sleepy, that's a fact." 
 
 " I should think you would be," said Kitty, 
 rising. " You ought to let me stay with aunt 
 part of the night." 
 
 " No, honey ! You'se young and gittin' your 
 growth, and it a'li't healthy for young girls to 
 be up nights. You does too much as it is." 
 " If it was only the doing !" sighed Kitty. 
 "Yes, yes, I know; but don't complain, 
 honey. Take up your cross, that's the only 
 way." 
 
 26
 
 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 Kitty went up-stairs, and, finding her aunt 
 still asleep, she sat down by the open window 
 with her Bible, sometimes reading, sometimes 
 looking out upon the silent city and thinking 
 of home. "What had become of them all? 
 Why had Uncle Mark never answered the let- 
 ters she had sent him ? Or had he answered 
 them? What was Aunt Veronica doing? 
 What was Rosy like? Should she ever see 
 them again?" She was roused from her re- 
 very by a voice from the bed. 
 
 " How anxiously have I sought for happi- 
 ness in the world! It was a great mistake, 
 all a mistake! Every thing has been a mis- 
 take, all my life long. It might have been 
 different, if but it is too late now. Do you 
 remember your mother, Catherine?" 
 
 " No, aunt," said Kitty, wondering more 
 and more. " She died when I was very little." 
 
 "Yes, to be sure. You are not like her. 
 You are like your aunt Catherine. You never 
 heard of her?" 
 
 "Yes, aunt: Chloe has told me about her." 
 
 " That was another mistake!" continued Miss 
 Brush. " We might have let her marry him 
 and go away. Ah, well! they are both dead 
 now: so it is all the same. Open my Chinese
 
 THE MEETING. 305 
 
 cabinet, child, and give me an ivory box you 
 will see there. Yes, that is it. Now open 
 it. Press your hand on that stud. Harder : 
 it has not been opened in years and years. 
 Aii, there it goes. Now take out the minia- 
 tures and open them. Whose is that?" 
 
 "A lady and gentleman, aunt. What a beau- 
 tiful woman !'' 
 
 " That is your mother, Catherine. Just so she 
 looked when she came here a bride. Ah, how 
 I hated her! Perhaps that was a mistake too." 
 
 " I think it is a mistake to hate anybody," 
 said Kitty. "But why did you hate mamma?" 
 
 " She crossed me, child. She would not be 
 guided by me, and she weaned your father 
 from me. He had been under my thumb be- 
 fore that. I thought her a soft little fool, 
 whom it would be easy to govern. She crossed 
 me, and so I hated her. But I don't know, 
 perhaps it was a mistake I had my revenge 
 at last." 
 
 "And did that do you any good, Aunt 
 Adela? the revenge, I mean ?" asked Kitty. 
 
 " Revenge is sweet, child. Don't you Hud 
 it so ? Don't you rejoice now that you see me 
 helpless, dependent, in your power? Don't 
 cant, but tell me the truth." 
 D
 
 300 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 Kitty paused a moment. " No, Aunt Adela," 
 she replied. "If I could cure you myself, or 
 if I could bring some one to cure you, as they 
 brought our Saviour to cure the centurion's ser- 
 vant, I would do it in a minute." 
 
 "Catherine Brush, lay down that box. 
 Now put your hands on mine. Look me in 
 the face, so ! Now tell me the truth ! Don't 
 you hate me ? You do, in your soul ! Don't 
 you?" 
 
 "No, aunt. I did once; but I don't now. 
 I don't love you as much as I should like to; 
 but I do not hate you, and I would help you 
 in a minute, if I could." 
 
 Miss Brush looked long and searching!) 7 into 
 her niece's face. " I believe you say true, child. 
 There is no hate in your eyes, and no falsehood. 
 But I don't understand it." 
 
 "Aunt Adela," said Kitty, earnestly, " I will 
 tell you how it was, truly. I did hate you, 
 so that I would have liked to kill you, till 
 Aunt Chloe taught me to love God. And 
 when I learned to love Him I left off hating 
 you. I have begun to love you since I have 
 had so much to do for you; and when I am a 
 better girl I hope I shall love you a great 
 deal more."
 
 THE MEETING. 307 
 
 Kitty's heart warmed with her own words, 
 and, almost for the first time, she stooped and 
 kissed her aunt, with a feeling of real aifectiou. 
 
 Miss Brush returned the kiss. 
 
 "There, child; I believe you, however you 
 came by it. And, Kitty," this, too, was 
 new in her : she had never called her any 
 thing but Catherine, usually Catherine Brush, 
 as if constantly to remind her of their first 
 quarrel, "and, Kitty, if you can, when I am 
 gone, take care of Chloe. She has been a 
 faithful servant to our house. I can't say any 
 more now. There ; put the things away. Stay ; 
 let me see the other picture." 
 
 Kitty put it into her hand. It was that of 
 a very lovely young woman; and even Kitty 
 could see the likeness to herself. 
 
 "That is your aunt Catherine. You are like 
 her. She, too, found comfort in religion. I 
 never had any. There; put them away, or 
 keep them if you like. All the things in that 
 cabinet are yours. There are some jewels. 
 Take care of them. Oh, my child, what is to 
 become of you ?" 
 
 " Never mind, aunt," said Kitty, wondering 
 more and more. " I shall be taken care of 
 somehow. But, aunt, have you got any money ?"
 
 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 "No, child, not a picayune." 
 
 "Nor have I, aunt; and I don't see what 
 we are to do, unless we sell something more." 
 
 " Don't talk about it now," said Miss 
 Brush. "Do what you please, you and 
 Chloe, but don't tell me about it. There are 
 some gold chains and a cross and rosary of 
 your grandmother's : I never thought to sell 
 them ; but you cannot starve. Take them to 
 Black ; he is an honest man ; perhaps he will 
 lend you something on them till better times. 
 Kiss me again, Kitty. There ; now let me 
 sleep." 
 
 Kitty waited till her aunt was asleep, and then 
 she slipped out and went to find Chloe, who 
 listened with awe-strickeu interest to her ac- 
 count of her recent interview with her aunt. 
 
 "She's changed for death, Miss Kitty," said 
 she, with the superstition of her race. " When 
 folk changes like that, all at once, it's a sure 
 sign the hand of the Lord's on 'em. She won't 
 last much longer. I guess I'd better go for 
 the doctor." 
 
 " Perhaps you had ; though I don't suppose 
 it will make much difference. I can't think 
 she is dying, Chloe, she speaks so much more 
 clearly ; and she looks better, too."
 
 THE MEETING. 300 
 
 " It's just the flashing up of the lamp before 
 it goes out, my lamb. You haven't seen as 
 many death-beds as I have. I pray the good 
 Lord you never may. I reckon I'd best run 
 for Dr. Fuller; 'cause, you know, if any thing 
 should happen " 
 
 Chloe went on her errand, but returned un- 
 successful. The doctor had gone out into the 
 country to some surgical case, and would not 
 be back for a day or two. 
 
 " We must just leave her in the Lord's hands, 
 Miss Kitty. There a'n't nothin' else we can 
 do, as I see." 
 
 Miss Brush slept for a long time, and, when 
 she awoke, even Kitty's inexperienced eye 
 could see a great change. She was very quiet, 
 all her usual fretful ness and impatience which 
 made her so hard to manage being gone. She 
 dozed a good deal, and wandered at times, but 
 could always be roused by Kitty's voice, and 
 at such times was quite herself. She seemed 
 to cling specially to Kitty, and was unwilling 
 to have her out of her sight. 
 
 The next day, however, it became necessary 
 for Kitty to go out. There was literally no 
 food in the house, and nothing wherewith to 
 buy food. Miss Brush had none but very
 
 310 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 distant relatives living, and most of them had 
 left town. It would not answer, for obvious 
 reasons, to send a servant to dispose of so valu- 
 able an article as the rosary, upon which Kitty 
 proposed to raise some money. 
 
 It was with some little trepidation that she 
 entered Mr. Black's shop. She had been there 
 before upon a similar errand, and she could 
 never divest herself of a feeling of shame and 
 mortification, though she told herself over 
 and over that there was no sin in being poor. 
 There was no one in the shop but a gentleman 
 who had his back turned towards her and was 
 busy trying some gold pens. 
 
 " My dear Miss Brush, I would gladly ac- 
 commodate you if I could," said Mr. Black, 
 " but really I have no money. This rosary is 
 a valuable article. The gold is sterling and 
 very old, and the old coins attached are worth 
 far more than their intrinsic value, as curiosi- 
 ties. This one, you see, is of the time of the 
 Roman Empire, and very rare. It would be 
 a pity to part with this relic unless it is neces- 
 sary." 
 
 " It w necessary," said Kitty, hardly able 
 to restrain her tears at the disappointment. 
 " Unless you can give me something for the
 
 THE MEETING. 311 
 
 whole, I must take oil' the coins and spend 
 them in the market." 
 
 " Will you allow me to look at the rosary?" 
 s:vd a voice which thrilled Kitty through and 
 through; and the gentleman, who had caught 
 the last words of the conversation, stretched out 
 his hand for the beads. 
 
 " These coins are, as you say, very valuable," 
 said he. " I will gladly purchase them, and 
 the rosary also, if you will place a price upon 
 them." 
 
 He turned smilingly to Kitty. There was 
 no mistaking the clear, dancing blue eyes, the 
 sweet, firm mouth, fringed with a yellow beard 
 and mustache. 
 
 " My dear child, I fear you are ill," ex- 
 claimed the gentleman, hastily; for Kitty had 
 turned white even to her lips. Kitty gasped for 
 breath, and said, in a sort of hoarse whisper, 
 
 "Uncle Mark, don't you know Kitty?" 
 The next moment she seemed to feel herself 
 caught in a pair of strong arms just as the floor 
 was sinking with her. When she recovered, 
 she found herself upon a couch in the back 
 part of the store, with Uncle Mark bathing 
 her face, and Mr. Black fanning her. 
 
 "There! that's better," said Mr. Black,
 
 312 THE TWIN EOSES. 
 
 kindly; "you are coming to yourself, and I 
 will leave you to your friend." 
 
 " Uncle Mark, is this really you ?" said Kitty, 
 faintly. " I don't know how to believe it." 
 
 " Well, Kitty, I never was in New Orleans 
 before, and am somewhat confused myself," 
 said Mark, smiling, " but, so far as I can tell 
 under these strange circumstances, it is myself 
 and no one else. I find it much harder to be- 
 lieve that this tall young lady is little Kitty." 
 
 "But I must not stay," exclaimed Kitty. 
 " Aunt Adela has had no breakfast, and she 
 cannot have any till I get home. Uncle 
 Mark, will you really buy the rosary ?" 
 
 " Certainly, my dear. But, Kitty, has it 
 come to this? Are you straitened for the 
 means of life?" 
 
 " Uncle Mark, we have not one thing to eat 
 in the house, except some coffee and brown 
 sugar. I must go and buy something directly." 
 She tried to start up, but sank back, dizzy with 
 fasting, for she had eaten nothing more than 
 a mouthful of dry bread since the day before 
 at noon. 
 
 "Wait a little," said Mark. " Lie still till 
 I come back." He went out, asking a question 
 of Mr. Black in passing, a'nd presently re-
 
 THE MEETING. 313 
 
 turned with some coffee and crackers, all he 
 could find at the moment. 
 
 " You must eat and drink," said he; "and 
 the-i we will go to market, if you will show 
 me the way." 
 
 " Law bless you, Miss Kitty, honey, what a 
 lot of things you'se sent in !" said Chloe, meet- 
 ing Kitty at the door. "I ha' n't seen so many 
 pervisions together this many a day. You must 
 be keerful, honey. There's no knowin' where 
 the next money is to come from." Catching 
 sight of Mark at this point, Chloe intermitted 
 her lecture and performed her grandest curtsy. 
 
 " This is my uncle Mark, Chloe, the one I 
 have so often told' you about." 
 
 " Bless the Lord !" exclaimed Chloe. " Now 
 it'll be all right. Go up to Miss Addy, honey ; 
 she's been asking for you. You see, Mas'r 
 Mark," she continued, after Kitty had left the 
 room, " I'se been powerful troubled in my mind 
 what was to become of Miss Kitty when Miss 
 Addy was gone, 'cause there don't seem no one 
 to take charge of her; but the Lord he's -made 
 it all right. He allers does. Bless the Lord !" 
 
 " You have been a long time away, Kitty," 
 said Miss Brush, feebly. " Where have you 
 been?"
 
 314 THE TWIN EOS EH. 
 
 " To Mr. Black'*, aunt, and to market. How 
 do you feel ?" 
 
 "Did you sell the rosary?" asked Miss 
 Brush. 
 
 " Yes, aunt, and got a good price. I have 
 bought a large supply of provisions, and I 
 have some money left." 
 
 " Take care of it." She was silent, and lay 
 with her eyes closed for a time; then she spoke, 
 with unusual strength and clearness. "Kitty, 
 listen to me. I know I am dying. When 
 I am gone, ask Dr. Fuller to sell what he can 
 of the contents of this house and raise money 
 enough to send you to your friends at the 
 North. I made my will long ago, and left 
 what I had to you. There is no one here to 
 take care of you ; but your uncle Mark is an 
 honest man, and will do what he can for you. 
 Go to him." 
 
 "Aunt Adela," said Kitty, as she paused 
 for breath, "Uncle Mark is here, in the 
 house. I met him this morning." 
 
 " Bring him here," said Miss Brush. " Bring 
 him here, quickly !" 
 
 Kitty hastened to call her uncle; and Mark 
 was soon beside the bed. He saw at once that 
 the end was near.
 
 THE MEETING. 315 
 
 " Mark Campion, you profess to be a Chris- 
 tian," said Miss Brush. "Are you Christian 
 enough to take this girl, penniless as she may 
 be, and give her a home with her sister ?" 
 
 " I ask nothing better, Miss Brush," an- 
 swered Mark, solemnly. "God helping me, 
 she shall never want a home, but shall be to 
 me in all things as my own." 
 
 " Good !" said Miss Brush, with evident 
 satisfaction. " Catherine, I have not made you 
 happy. I was not fit for the charge I took 
 upon myself. Forgive me, if you can." 
 
 "Indeed I do, aunt!" sobbed Kitty. "I 
 know I was very perverse and naughty. 
 Please forgive me, Aunt Adela." 
 
 Miss Brush smiled. "We may call it even, 
 Kitty. Chloe has done far more for you than 
 I. Be kind to her " Her voice failed. 
 
 " She is going !" said Chloe, in an awe- 
 struck tone. "Oh, Miss Addy, honey, look 
 at Jesus! look at Him, just once, before you 
 go ! O good Lord, have mercy on her !" 
 
 " It is all over !" said Mark, solemnly. 
 " Come away, Kitty, my love. You have been 
 faithful to death; but you can do no more. 
 She is in God's hand." 
 
 27
 
 316 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 REUNION. 
 
 'ITTY, what church did your aunt 
 attend ?" asked Mark, on the after- 
 noon of the same day. " We must 
 make arrangements for the fune- 
 ral as soon as it will be decent." 
 
 "Aunt Adela never went to church, 
 Uncle Mark," replied Kitty. " She has 
 never been since I came here, nor I either, 
 except twice to the Catholic cathedral when I 
 went to the Sisters' school. It seemed so strange, 
 when I first came, not to go to church, and to 
 see aunt and her friends playing cards on Sun- 
 day evening. It made me more home-sick 
 than any thing else." 
 
 "I should think so, indeed. But did you 
 never go to church ?" 
 
 " Never, only, as I said, two or three times 
 to the cathedral. Aunt Adela said if I must 
 have a superstition I might be a Catholic, as
 
 REUNION. 317 
 
 my grandmother was before me; for that was 
 at least venerable and graceful. I believe, hon- 
 estly, it was what she said, as much as any 
 thing, that set me against it, to begin with ; for 
 I hated her so in those days that just the fact 
 of her liking any thing made me hate it. Yes, 
 it was very wrong, I know; but you don't 
 know all I had to bear." 
 
 " I can guess, my poor child." 
 
 " The nuns were very kind to me, even when 
 I would not go to church.," continued Kitty. " I 
 learned a good deal from them, fine work, and 
 music. Some of aunt's relations came to see 
 her after she was taken down sick, and wanted 
 her to send for a priest; but she would not hear 
 of it, and fairly drove them out of the room. 
 They have not been near us since. I think 
 you had better manage the funeral your own 
 way, Uncle Mark." 
 
 " I don't see but I shall have to do so, my 
 dear. I wish, however, that your aunt's phy- 
 sician would return." 
 
 Dr. Fuller arrived in the course of the after- 
 noon, and gave Mark a warm welcome. He 
 produced Miss Brush's will, by which Kitty 
 was made her sole heir, with himself for exe- 
 cutor and guardian. There were no directions
 
 318 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 about the funeral ; and Mark thought it better 
 to get the matter over as quietly as possible. 
 
 The next clay but one, Adela Brush was 
 laid in the bury ing-place of her family. 
 
 My story need not be greatly prolonged. 
 The most valuable of Kitty's possessions the 
 jewels and remaining plate were packed up 
 and stowed in a place of safety. Mark was 
 able to make an arrangement by which the 
 house was let, furnished, to a quiet, motherly 
 woman, with whom Kitty could board com- 
 fortably till Mark was able to take her home. 
 Chloe remained in the house as servant, some- 
 what puzzled and put out now and then by 
 the lady's particular ways, but happy to be 
 near her dear Miss Kitty. She had now no 
 tie to life but Kitty; and thus, when Mark and 
 his charge sailed for .New York in October, 
 Chloe, with many misgivings, made up her 
 mind to accompany them. 
 
 " I'se an old woman," said she ; " I ha Vt 
 got many years to stay, anyhow; and when 
 the Lord calls me home, it may as well be 
 from the North as from the South. 'Twon't 
 be no further to go from one than from the 
 other, I reckon." 
 
 They were obliged to pass a Sunday in New
 
 REUNION. 319 
 
 York; and they spent it with Anne. The 
 visit was rather unwillingly made on Kitty's 
 side. She resented the second marriage as an 
 affront to her father, and she had never gotten 
 over the strong impression made upon her by 
 Anne's heartless conduct at the time of their 
 separation. Poor Kitty's temper was destined 
 to be her great enemy all her life long. 
 
 The mother and daughter once brought face 
 to face, however, old associations resumed their 
 sway, and they met with affection on both 
 sides. Anne had much to say upon the subject 
 of Kitty's improvement in person and man- 
 ners, and took great credit to herself for her 
 wisdom in giving her to Miss Brush. 
 
 "I knew she was just the one to manage 
 you, Kitty. She had so much firmness, and I 
 never had : my feelings were too strong. But 
 I always thought you would turn out well, 
 quite as well as Rosy, for all Veronica's boast- 
 ing. I never did believe in so much govern- 
 ment. I believe in letting nature have her 
 way. You see now how much wiser I was 
 in letting you go to your aunt." 
 
 The speech was not very consistent; but 
 Anne's thoughts were never remarkable for 
 coherency. Kitty repressed with some trouble 
 
 27*
 
 320 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 the reply which rose to her lips, and turned 
 the conversation by inquiring about Anne's 
 little boy, now some three years old. 
 
 " Oh, he is with his nurse. He will be 
 down presently. His nurse is a Frenchwoman, 
 a most superior person, and I leave him almost 
 entirely to her. He can speak more French 
 than English already." 
 
 The child presently appeared, a pale, deli- 
 cate little fellow, with bare arms and legs, both 
 blue with cold. He took at once to Kitty, 
 and chatted merrily with her in his childish 
 French. Presently he used a very coarse 
 i ndeed, ind ecen t ex p ress ion. 
 
 "Oh, Louis, you should not say that," ex- 
 claimed Kitty, much shocked. "That is not 
 proper." 
 
 "Nurse says so/' returned the little fellow, 
 innocently, and ran on as before, saying, 
 " Mon Dieu !" at every other word. 
 
 "You would not like to hear your child 
 swear at that rate in English," Mark could 
 not help saying. 
 
 "Oh, but in French, that is different," 
 said Anne. " All French people say so. It is 
 not the same at all." 
 
 " It means exactly the same," said Mark.
 
 REUNION. 321 
 
 The more Anne saw of Kitty, the more she 
 was charmed ; and before Sunday evening she 
 coolly announced that she had quite made up 
 her mind to keep her. 
 
 " You must see, Kitty, that I have the first 
 claim upon you, now that your aunt is dead. 
 You could be very useful to me, especially in 
 teaching Louis. Your French accent seems so 
 pure; and it would be a great comfort to me 
 to have some one I could depend upon to walk 
 with him, and so on. And I am sure it would 
 be the most natural arrangement," 
 
 Kitty compressed her lips, and made no 
 answer. Anne went on urging various argu- 
 ments, and ended with, " I am sure, after all I 
 have done for you, you must see it your duty 
 to be guided by me." 
 
 " And suppose you get tired of me, as you 
 did before, mamma? What will you do then ?" 
 asked Kitty, bitterly. " You can't send me to 
 New Orleans this time, you know." 
 
 " You could go to Aunt Veronica, if we did 
 not get on well together," answered Anne, 
 simply ; " or you could go to school." 
 
 " Thank you, mamma," replied Kitty, still 
 more bitterly. "I rather prefer going to 
 
 Aunt Veronica of my own accord, to being 
 v
 
 322 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 shoved off on her because no one else wants 
 me." 
 
 "Kitty, what an idea ! But I shall talk to 
 your uncle Mark." 
 
 " No, Anne," said Mark, seriously, when 
 Anne proposed the idea to him. " It is not to 
 be thought of. I promised Adela Brush that 
 Kitty should be as my own ; and I intend to 
 keep my word. You gave up all claim upon 
 her when you put her into Adela's hands. 
 Adela transferred her to me ; and I mean to 
 keep her." 
 
 " Just like you !" said Anne, peevishly. " I 
 suppose you will let the child stay if she 
 pleases ?" 
 
 " Do you please, Kitty ?" asked Mark. 
 
 " Do you think I ought to stay, Uncle Mark ?" 
 asked Kitty, with a quivering lip. "I would 
 try to do what was right." 
 
 " There ! I knew she would stay," exclaimed 
 Anne, triumphantly. 
 
 " Do you think so, Uncle Mark ?" 
 
 "No, Kitty, I do not; nor could I give my 
 consent to such an arrangement. You chose 
 me for your guardian when Dr. Fuller died ; 
 and I prefer that you should reside under my 
 own roof."
 
 REUNION. 323 
 
 " Oh, very well/' said Anne. " I have done. 
 It just proves what I have always said, that 
 there is no creature so ungrateful as an adopted 
 child." 
 
 Kitty burst into tears and ran out of the 
 room; and when Mark sought her he found 
 her sobbing as thougli her heart would break, 
 while Chloe in vain tried to comfort her. 
 
 " Come, Kitty, cheer up. You have done 
 nothing wrong. Mamma will think better of 
 it presently." 
 
 "Then you don't think I am obliged to 
 stay, uncle ?" said Kitty. " I wish to do my 
 duty; but oh, Uncle Mark, I earnestly desire 
 quiet and rest somewhere." 
 
 " And you shall have it, Kitty. Cheer up, 
 my dear. We shall soon be at home and in 
 peace." 
 
 I need not describe the meeting between 
 Kitty and her friends. Suffice it to say that 
 she was made welcome with all the love that 
 Rosy and Rosy's mamma had to bestow. 
 
 Chloe was installed at once in the kitchen, 
 where a succession of incompetent helps had 
 driven Veronica to distraction ever since Becky 
 went away. She is still living, and, like many 
 coloured people after they reach a certain age,
 
 324 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 time seems to make no impression upon her. 
 She considers Mrs. Campion needlessly par- 
 ticular upon the subject of dish-towels, and 
 wishes Missus would keep out of the kitchen ; 
 but, on the whole, they rub along together 
 very comfortably. Rosy is the sunshine of the 
 house, and pours out upon her younger brother 
 and sister all the love which was bestowed 
 upon her own youth. 
 
 If Rosy is the sunshine, Kitty is sometimes 
 the storm. She still feels the disadvantages 
 of her early training, or want of training, 
 still has many a battle to fight with selfishness, 
 passion, jealousy, and idleness. But her face 
 is set firmly heavenward, and her progress, on 
 the whole, is in the right direction. She now 
 and then makes Anne a visit ; and these visits 
 have increased in length and frequency since 
 little Louis has been such an invalid. The 
 poor child is a martyr to inflammatory rheu- 
 matism, the fruit of the "hardening process" 
 he was put through in early childhood; and 
 no one can make him forget his pains and 
 amuse his weary hours like Sister Kitty. 
 
 Becky and her captain have at last returned 
 from India and settled near Milby, where they 
 have bought a small farm. Poor little Jenny
 
 REUNION. 325 
 
 James lies in the English burying-ground at 
 Bombay. Miss Brown still survives, the oldest 
 member of the Old Ladies' Home. 
 
 Neither Mark nor Veronica have yet had 
 any reason to complain of the ingratitude of 
 adopted children. 
 
 "But, after all, what is the great difference?" 
 iso me reader may say. "You say Rosy and 
 Kitty are both Christians, both walking in 
 the narrow way which leads to life : so what 
 is the great difference, after all ?" The differ- 
 ence lies just here: 
 
 To Rosy the path is made as easy as it caii 
 be, by the cultivation in her of lifelong habits 
 of self-control, of self-forgetful ness, of patience 
 and gentleness. 
 
 To Kitty it is in a manner hedged up with 
 thorns and built up with hewn stones, by 
 habits of exactly the contrary kind, habits 
 of selfishness, jealousy, imperious self-will. 
 
 With Rosy the thought of pleasing and 
 helping others comes naturally first, by long 
 course of habit; to Kitty comes first the 
 thought of pleasing herself, only to be over- 
 come by such a struggle as often makes the 
 service or the sacrifice any thing but a gracious 
 one. In short, the training of the one will be
 
 326 THE TWIN ROSES. 
 
 a lifelong help and comfort to her; that of 
 the other will be to her a lifelong hindrance 
 and misery. 
 
 If a man sows good seed in his ground, more 
 than one weed will doubtless spring up with 
 it, which it will require care and patience to 
 root out ; but if a man sows his ground wholly 
 with tares, or even if he allows the natural 
 weeds of the soil to spring up unchecked, it 
 will require much hard ploughing and hoeing 
 and grubbing to get even a small quantity of 
 good grain to sprout ; and, after it has once 
 gained a foothold, it will have a hard struggle 
 to bring ever so little fruit to perfection. 
 
 THE END.
 
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