The morning train bound for Albany stood in the depot, waiting the signal to start; and just before the final "all aboard" was sounded, a handsome equipage drove slowly up, and from it alighted Mr. Lincoln, bearing in his arms his daughter, whose head rested wearily upon his shoulder. Accompanying him were his wife, Jenny, and a gray-haired man, the family physician. Together they entered the rear car, and instantly there was a hasty turning of heads, a shaking of curls, and low whispers, as each noticed and commented upon the unearthly beauty of Rose, who in her father's arms, lay as if wholly exhausted with the effort she had made.
The sight of her, so young, so fair, and apparently so low, hushed all selfish feelings, and a gay bridal party who had taken possession of the ladies' saloon, immediately came forward, offering it to Mr. Lincoln, who readily accepted it, and laying Rose upon the long settee, he made her as comfortable as possible with the numerous pillows and cushions he had brought with him. As the creaking engine moved slowly out of Boston, Rose asked that the window might be raised, and leaning upon her elbow, she looked out upon her native city, which she was leaving for ever. Some such idea came to her mind; but quickly repressing it, she turned towards her father, saying with a smile, "I shall be better when I see Boston again."
Mr. Lincoln turned away to hide a tear, for he had no hope that she would ever return. Towards nightfall of the next day they reached Glenwood, and Rose, more fatigued than she was willing to acknowledge, now that she was so determined to get well, was lifted from the carriage and carried into the house. Mrs. Howland hastened forward to receive her, and for once Rose forgot to notice whether the cut of her cap was of this year's fashion or last.
"I am weary," she said. "Lay me where I can rest." And with the grandmother leading the way, the father carried his child to the chamber prepared for her with so much care.
"It's worse than I thought 'twas," said Mrs. Howland, returning to the parlor below, where her daughter, after looking in vain for the big rocking-chair, had thrown herself with a sigh upon the chintz-covered lounge. "It's a deal worse than I thought 'twas. Hasn't she catched cold, or been exposed some way?"
"Not in the least," returned Mrs. Lincoln, twirling the golden stopper of her smelling bottle. "The foundation of her sickness was laid at Mount Holyoke, and the whole faculty ought to be indicted for manslaughter."
Jenny's clear, truthful eyes turned towards her mother, who frowned darkly, and continued: "She was as well as any one until she went there, and I consider it my duty to warn all parents against sending their daughters to a place where neither health, manners, nor any thing else is attended to, except religion and housework."
Jenny had not quite got over her childish habit of occasionally setting her mother right on some points, and she could not forbear saying that Dr. Kleber thought Rose injured herself by attending Mrs. Russell's party.
"Dr. Kleber doesn't know any more about it than I do," returned her mother. "He's always minding other folks' business, and so are you. I guess you'd better go up stairs, and see if Rose doesn't want something."
Jenny obeyed, and as she entered her sister's chamber, Rose lifted her head languidly from her pillow, and pointing to a window, which had been opened that she might breathe more freely, said, "Just listen; don't you hear that horrid croaking?"