"How should I know?" answered his sister; "but there is the door-bell. Hurry Jack! This way to the library!"
Rose Jenvie came in. Grace met and greeted her in the hall.
"Why, Grace," said Rose, "you have been crying. What is wrong, dear?"
"Nothing is wrong," said Grace, "nothing at all, and I have not been crying." And all the time the tears were running down her cheeks.
"Why," exclaimed Rose, "what in the world is the matter? What has so upset you this morning?"
"I tell you, nothing," answered Grace. "Mamma has a caller in the parlor; let us go to the library."
Reaching the door, Grace opened it for Rose, and then said, pettishly, "There! I have forgotten a letter I wish to show you; go in, and I will be back directly."
Rose naturally walked in, when Grace closed the door behind her, turned the key noiselessly and fled.
The curtains were half drawn, the day was cloudy, and Rose advanced two or three steps into the room before she discovered another occupant. That occupant rose as she stopped. She saw a manly fellow with hair cut short and full mustache. He saw a woman a little above the medium height, with hazel eyes, full and proud, a fair, clear-cut face, a slight but perfectly developed form, and the face wore a look which it seemed to him was sad, despite its beauty, as though some thought within made a shadow on the fair young life.
The young man gazed a moment, then raising and opening his arms, in a voice that shook perceptibly, said, "Rose!"