Before Rose left the parlor she was so frightened and subdued by her mother's stern reprimands, that all idea of appealing for help forsook her. So she ran desperately into a closet connected with her mother's chamber, fell upon the floor, and cried herself to sleep, with her flushed cheeks resting on two round arms, folded helplessly on the bare boards.

Toward night, Mrs. Mason came up-stairs, looking haughty and excited. Without heeding the child, who lay just within the closet, with her curls scattered over the threshold of the door, she began to open trunks and bureaus, from which she drew first a heavy silk dress, which just escaped being white by a tinge of pearl gray, some gossamer laces, and other indications of an elaborate toilet. Then she let down her magnificent hair, brushed out its glossy waves, and began to braid it; stopping now and then to rest her arms on the table before her, and sighing heavily, as if it required all her energies to keep up that proud show of strength.

After wreathing these heavy braids around her head in the form of a coronet, she arose and went to the closet for something. Lo, there was her child prone upon the floor, disturbed by her approach, and moaning at her feet.

A person who deliberately does wrong, is almost sure to be angry at any thing calculated to touch the conscience. Mrs. Mason's cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed at the sight of little Rose. She was tempted to spurn the child with her foot, but restrained herself, only touching the bare, white shoulder, with the point of her slipper.

"Get up, child. Get up. What on earth are you doing here?"

The touch awoke Rose. She started to her feet, and tried to shrink away.

"Stop, you naughty, disobedient child!" cried the mother, seizing her by the shoulder. "You don't deserve it; but see what a beautiful present Mr. Thrasher has brought you—coral and pure gold—for your arms and neck. There, Rosey posey, don't it make your eyes dance?"

The little girl's eyes did sparkle for a moment, but directly they filled with tears.

"No, mother; it's very pretty, but I don't want any thing," she said, timidly.

The mother frowned.

"Go to Mrs. Prior this instant," she said; "tell her to dress you in the India muslin frock that I gave out to be done up. Loop the sleeves with this coral. Mind and let Mr. Thrasher see it on your neck and arms. Oh, Mrs. Prior, I'm glad you've come! Please have this child properly dressed. There are the ornaments; go, Rose, I have no time to spare; be a good girl, and look pretty to please mother."

"I'll—I'll try," sobbed the child, "only don't make me wear them."

"Hush, or you'll make me angry, my dear. Mrs. Prior, if you would hurry with her, and help me a little, I really am so nervous."

"No wonder," answered Mrs. Prior, gravely, "the whole thing is so sudden." "Not with me," was the cold answer. "The day was settled the last time Mr. Thrasher visited us; but I did not think it necessary to make it a subject of conversation with strangers."

"But we might have been better prepared," said Mrs. Prior.

"Not at all necessary, as we go away in an hour after the ceremony is performed."

"Go away, Mrs. Mason?"

"Certainly."

"And little Rose?"

The good woman's voice trembled.

"Ah, she will stay with you, heaven only knows how long! that is, if you will keep her—say at the price we have been paying for both. She will have the piano for practice, and you can keep the furniture to remember me by."

"You are very kind."

"Not at all; I know you will be good to Rose."

"Indeed I will!"

"And give her every accomplishment. Remember, money is of no consequence."

"That which you offer is more than enough to pay for all the knowledge or accomplishments I can teach," said the little woman, conscientiously.

"If it isn't, say so, and we'll double it," answered Mrs. Mason, with reckless munificence. "There is gold enough in my work-box there to pay for three or four years, if we do not send for her before that. You can take box and all after we're gone, for I shall leave all these things behind; it's too much trouble to pack them up. Use what you like, and cut over the rest for Rose—the dresses, I mean. That brown silk for travelling will be all I shall care for after the ceremony is over." "I hardly know how to receive this liberality," said the little woman, with tears in her eyes. "It don't seem right to accept it."

"Oh, nonsense! Be a mother to Rose, and seem glad to see us when we come after her. You have been very kind to me, Mrs. Prior, and I feel it now, indeed I do."

There was a touch of genuine feeling in Mrs. Mason's voice, as she bent forward and kissed Mrs. Prior on the cheek, with lips that were red and dewy as rose-buds. In her selfishness, she had not noticed Rose, who stood clinging to Mrs. Prior's dress, growing paler and paler at each word.

"Mother, are you going to leave me all alone!"

There was so much of sorrow in the child's voice that it reached even that vain heart.

"Never mind, Rosey, dear," said the mother, kissing the pale lips of her child. "It wont be long; besides, Mrs. Prior loves you dearly, and will be very kind."

"Indeed I will, darling," sobbed the little woman. "So now cheer up, Rose, and run off to be dressed," added the mother, beginning to tire of the scene; "do try and help me, Mrs. Prior, and see that your husband is ready; there must be no delay, for we have a long ride before us."

Mrs. Prior hurried off with Rose to her own private room, and in a marvellous short time the little girl came forth airy as a butterfly. The red coral glowing on her face and neck, the India muslin floating around her like a cloud.

Rose met Paul in the upper passage. He was looking sadly troubled. She went toward him and laid her hand in his.

"You are going?" he said, interpreting the act from his fears. "No, they are going, Paul, but I am to be left behind."

The boy began to smile.

"And Mrs. Prior will be your mother?" he said.

"Yes."

"Ah! I'm so happy, so glad; let me go tell Jube."

He attempted to descend the stairs but came back again.

"One thing, Rose. I should like to see this gentleman, Captain Thrasher."

"Well, he's in the parlor."

"But I don't want him to see me."

"Oh, then I can't help you, Paul—there's no way."

Paul looked disappointed. That moment Mrs. Prior came toward them from Mrs. Mason's room.

"What is the matter, Paul?" she inquired, kindly.

"Oh, nothing," answered Rose, "only he wants to see that hateful man."

"For shame, Rose!"

"Well, he wants to see Captain Thrasher, and he don't want Captain Thrasher to see him!" persisted Rose, shaking her head with pretty defiance.

"He wants to see a marriage—is that it?" said Mrs. Prior, whose kind heart was always prompting her to the pleasure of others. "And you would like to have a peep at this wedding? Rose, you will go into the room; but it is to be very private, you know, and I can't let you in, Paul."

"No, no, I do not wish—I only want to see," cried the boy, eagerly; "I and Jube—one little minute, that is all."

Mrs. Prior smiled and dropped into a moment's thought.

"Well," she said, "as you have set your heart upon it, Paul, there can be no harm in letting you see them married so long as it disturbs no one. There is the door between the parlor and dining-room; the upper half is glass. Just lift the curtain softly and look through; but remember, there must be no talking about it. The whole thing is to be kept secret."

"I will not speak to any one, be sure," said Paul.

"Well, be in your room and I will call you at the right time," said Mrs. Prior; "but hurry away, now, for she'll be going down-stairs in a minute."

Paul went to his room. Scarcely had he disappeared when Mrs. Mason came forth; the thick silken folds of her dress rustling sumptuously, and with a carcanet of gems flashing its tinted flame over the snow of her neck and shoulders.

When Rose saw her mother the color died from her face and she shivered as if with cold. Mrs. Mason was too much excited to heed this. Taking the little hand in hers, she led the child down-stairs, sweeping through the hall like a sultana.

Mrs. Prior was struck with admiration at the splendor of her beauty, but depressed by this display of magnificence for a wedding which was to be strictly private. Her own refined taste revolted at the incongruity. Indeed, Mrs. Mason herself seemed to feel something of this, for she blushed even while giving her head a proud lift, and observed, in a low voice:

"He would insist upon it. Nothing is rich enough to satisfy him."

Paul found Jube in his room when he entered it.

"Be ready," he said. "We shall soon know if it is the same man."

"But he may claim us, and say that I am his slave again," said Jube, anxiously. "He will not see us. There, I hear the minister going down. Be ready. Madame is coming to call us."

Mrs. Prior opened the door, and said: "Come," in a quick, nervous whisper.

Paul and Jube followed her into the dining-room. A crimson curtain hung over the sash which filled the upper part of the door. Mrs. Prior drew it slightly inward, leaving a crevice on each side, through which Paul and Jube could see all that went forward in the parlor without fear of observation.

The couple who were to be married, sat out of range of the window, and at first they only saw the minister saying something in a low voice to Mrs. Prior. She went out and returned with the servant girl, who hung shyly around the door, as if doubtful of the part she was called upon to perform. Then there was a rustling of silk, a general movement, and Paul saw the tyrant of his sea-life standing before the minister, with Mrs. Mason's hand clasped in his. He saw more—for the Venetian blinds fell apart, and a gleam of sunshine quivered across the gems upon the bride's neck. A shudder passed over him, he clung to a neighboring chair for support, and breathlessly looked on. Every word of that awful ceremony—for it was awful to him—fell upon the boy's heart. When it was ended, and the woman turned to the full light, a sick faintness crept over him, and he fell into Jube's arms perfectly insensible. The sight of his mother's necklace had overpowered the boy with terrible memories.