"Would it be an unpardonable infraction of etiquette if we were to

walk home?" questioned Rosa of Mr. Chilton, when they were out of

Mr. Mason's hearing. "The night is very mild."

"But your feet. Are they not too lightly shod for the pavement?"

"I left a pair of thick gaiters in the dressing-room, which I wore

in the carriage."

"Then I will be answerable for the breach of etiquette, should it

ever be found out," was the reply, and Rosa disappeared into the

tiring-roem to equip herself for the walk.

It was a lovely night for December--moonlighted and bland as

October, and neither manifested a disposition to accelerate the

saunter into which they had fallen at their first step beyond the

portico. Rosa dropped her rattling tone, and began to talk seriously

and sensibly of the scene they had left, the flatness of fashionable

society after the freshness of novelty had passed from it, and her

preference for home life and tried friends.

"Yet I always rate these the more truly after a peep at a different

sphere," she said. "Our Old Virginia country-house is never so dear

and fair at any other time as when I return to it after playing at

fine lady abroad for a month or six weeks. I used to fret at the

monotony of my daily existence; think my simple plsasures tame. I am

thankful that I go back to them, as I grow older, as one does to

pure, cold water, after drinking strong wine."

"You are blessed in having this fountain to which you may resort in

your heart-drought," answered Frederic, sadly. "The gods do not

often deny the gift of home and domestic affections to woman. It is

an exception to a universal rule when a man who has reached thirty

without building a nest for himself, has a pleasant shelter spared,

or offered to him elsewhere."

"Yet you would weary, in a week, of the indolent, aimless life led

by most of our youthful heirs expectant and apparent," returned

Rosa. "I remember once telling you how I envied you for having work

and a career. I was youthful then myself--and foolish as immature."

"I recollect!" and there was no more talk for several squares.

Rosa was getting alarmed at the thought of her temerity in reverting

to this incident in their former intercourse, and meditating the

expediency of entering upon an apology, which might, after all,

augment, rather than correct the mischief she had done, when

Frederic accosted her as if there had been no hiatus in the

dialogue.




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