For nearly a week after Jessie’s death, Mr. Delafield remained at the Pines, doing whatever he could for the comfort of his servants, and as at the end of that time the disease had wholly disappeared, he returned to Cedar¹ Grove², accompanied by his sister and Ada, who had learned by sad experience that the dangers from which we flee, are oftentimes less than those to which we go. They found Rose better, but still quite low, and as the fever had not entirely³ left her, neither Mrs. Lansing nor Ada ventured near her room, but shut themselves in their own apartment, where the former received the sympathy of her friends, which in this case was truly sincere, for Jessie was universally beloved and the tidings of her death carried sorrow to many hearts.

 

Over Dr. Clayton a change had come. The hopeful, happy expression of his face was gone, and in its place was a look of utter hopelessness which at first roused Richard’s fears lest Rose should be worse, and in much alarm he asked if it were so.

 

“No, no,” answered the doctor, while a shadow of pain passed over his handsome features; “she will live.”

 

Then hurrying to the window he looked out to hide his tears from him whom he knew to be his rival, and who, now 319that he was unobserved, bent⁴ over the sleeping Rose, kissing her wasted cheek and mourning for her as he thought how she would weep when she learned the fate of her favorite. Oh, could he have known the whole, how passionately⁵ would he have clasped her to his bosom⁶ and held her there as his own, his darling Rose! But it was not yet to be, and he must bide⁷ his time.

 

She had seemed greatly relieved at his absence, and on the second day after his departure, she called Dr. Clayton to her side, fancying him to be her brother Charlie. Taking his hands in hers, she told him the whole story of her trials; how she had tried to bring back the old affection of her childhood, but could not because of the love she had for Richard Delafield.

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