"How radiant you look this morning," exclaimed Gertrude, in astonishment, as she opened Rose's chamber door, and sat down by her bed-side; "your eyes have such a dazzling sparkle, and your cheeks such a glow. What is it, ma petite?" she asked, still gazing on the speechless Rose.

"Vincent is not dead," said Rose, slowly and oracularly, "Vincent is not false. The weight has gone from here, Gertrude," laying her hand on her heart. "I shall see him, though I can not tell you how nor where; but he will come back to me and Charley. I saw him last night in my dream—so noble—so good—but, oh! so wan, with the weary search for me. I hid my face—I could not look in his eyes—for I had doubted him—but he forgave me; oh! Gertrude, it was blessed, the clasp of those shadowy arms," and Rose smiled, and closed her eyes again, as if to shut out the sight of all that might dim her spiritual vision.

"Poor—poor Rose!" murmured Gertrude, terrified at the idea which forced itself upon her, "reason gone! Poor Rose!" and as she gazed, the warm tears fell upon the pillow.

Gertrude passed her soft hand magnetizingly over Rose's closed lids and temples; gradually the bright flush left her cheek, and she sank quietly to sleep.

"Was this to be the end of all Rose's sufferings? God forbid," murmured Gertrude. "Death itself were preferable to this," said she, her eyes still riveted on the beauty of that pale, childish face.

"Hush!" whispered Gertrude, with her finger on her lips, as her brother rapped on the door for her; she little thought that she had an unread page in her own eventful history to turn.

"I am so glad I did not see him," exclaimed she, when her brother finished his narration. "I should have felt as if a rattlesnake lay coiled in my path. He deserved his chastisement; and yet, John, I do not like this whipping system; it always seems to me as if a gentleman who stooped to it put himself on a level with the villain whom he punished."

"It is the only way, Gertrude," said the doctor; "especially where the law gives no redress. Besides, it is the only thing that appeals to that kind of fellow."

"But he is so vindictive;" said Gertrude, looking apprehensively at her brother, "he may lay coiled like a wounded snake, but he will yet make a spring."

"You forget that his Christian reputation stands in the way of any such little personal gratification," said John, sarcastically.

"He has been able, though, heretofore, to make a compromise with it," said Gertrude.

"Ah! he had only a woman to deal with," answered John, "and one whom he knew would suffer in silence, as many an injured high-minded woman has done before, rather than sacrifice the delicacy of her sex, by publicly brandishing the cudgel in her own defense, even in a righteous cause. I shall have no such scruples, and you will see that he understands it. A good sound flagellation is the only 'moral suasion' for such women tyrants; it is only against the defenseless such cowards dare wage war."

"Let us talk of something else," said Gertrude; and she related to John what had transpired between her and Rose.

John looked very grave, and sat absorbed in thought.

"I knew it would trouble you," said Gertrude; "it would be so dreadful should she lose her reason."

"I do not fear that," replied John; "I do not think her mind was wandering when she told you her dream. I think you will find that she will be perfectly sane when she wakes.

"Her dream,"—and John hesitated, "may prove true; stranger things have happened. Stronger chains of evidence than that which apparently overthrew her hopes have been snapped in twain, and, if—he should—be living—if—he—should prove worthy of her—dear as she is to me, I feel Gertrude, that my love is capable of self-sacrifice. I will use my best endeavors to bring them together.

"I shall never love again," said John; "I shall never see another woman who will so satisfy my soul, so pure, so childlike, so trusting, and yet so strong, so immovable in what she considers right—so vastly superior to all other women. I had woven bright dreams, in which she had a part," and John walked to the window to conceal his emotion.

Gertrude did not follow him; she knew from experience that there are moments when the presence even of the dearest friend is a restraint, when the overcharged spirit must find relief only in solitude and self-communing, and with a heart yearning with tenderness toward her brother, she stole softly from his presence.