j

124 ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS.

She was ill and wretched, and the physician had
suggested change of air; but above all her na-
tive air. Would Rose receive her for a little
time, just to try what its effect might be 1—she
was sure she would, and she would be with
her immediately.

‘“‘ Strange,” said Edward, “ how nature will
assert and keep its power; when luxury, art,
skill, knowledge, fail to restore health, they tell
you of native air, trusting to the simple, pure
restorative, which is the peasant’s birthright, as
infallible. I wonder, Rose, how those fine peo-
ple like to be thrown back upon the nature they
so outrage.”

‘Poor Helen!” exclaimed Rose, ‘* how
dispirited she seems — how melancholy! I
ought to feel afraid of your meeting her, I sup-
pose, Edward; but I do not—you have grown
satisfied with your poor Rose. We shall be
able to make her very comfortable, shall we
not?”—and then she smiled at the homeliness
of the phrase, and wondered what Helen would
say if she heard her.

It was not without sundry heartbeatings that
Rose heard the carriage stop, and assisted Helen
to alight; nor could she conceal her astonish-
ment at the ravages which not past years but
past emotions had wrought on her once beauti-
ful face.

The habit of suppressing thoughts, feelings,
and emotions, had altogether destroyed the