122 ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS.

the school, but this fashionable writing is hard
to make out,” observed the old woman; *so0
do you read it, Rosy.”

“Here is ten pounds to begin with,” said
Rose, placing the gossamer note before her.—
Mrs. Myles mechanically took up the money,
and played with it as a child plays with a toy,
and Rose read the few words that accompanied
the gift :—‘‘ Grieved to the heart to hear of the
illness of her ever dear relative—would be mis-
erable about her but from the knowledge of
Rose being the best nurse in the world—begs
she will let her know how the dear invalid is
by return of post, and also if there is any thing
she could send to alleviate her sufferings.”

While Rose was reading the letter, Mrs.
Myles’s long thin feeble fingers were playing
with the note, her dim eyes fixed upon the win-
dow; large round tears coursed each other
down her colourless cheeks. ‘No word about
coming, Rose—no word about coming,” she
muttered, after a pause; “‘send her back this
trash,” she added, bitterly—* send her back this
trash, and tell her the last tears I shed were shed
not for my sins, but for her cruelty.” She con-
tinued to mutter much that they could not un-
derstand; but evening closed in, and Rose told
Edward that she slept at last; she did certain-
ly, and Rose soon discovered that it was her
last sleep. The money was returned; and
again five years elapsed without Rose hearing,