The next morning, as soon as it was light, the horses were put in again, and the theatre party proceeded on their way. Rosalie's mother seemed much better; the country air and country quiet had, for a time, restored to her much of her former strength. She was able, with Rosalie's help, to dress herself and to sit on one of the boxes beside her bed, resting her head against the pillows, and gazing out at the green fields and clear blue sky. The sweet fresh breezes came in at the open door, and fanned her careworn face and the face of the child who sat beside her.
'Rosalie,' said her mother suddenly, 'would you like to hear about the time when your mother was a little girl?'
'Yes, mammie dear,' said Rosalie, nestling up to her side; 'I know nothing at all about it.'
'No, Rosalie,' said her mother; 'it's the beginning of a very sad story, and I did not like my little girl to know about it; but I sometimes think I sha'n't be long with you, and I had rather tell it to you myself than have any one else tell it. And you're getting a great girl now, Rosalie; you will be able to understand many things you could not have understood before. And there have been things the last few days which have brought it all back to me, and made me think of it by day and dream of it by night.'
'Please tell me, mammie dear,' said Rosalie, as her mother stopped speaking.
'Would you like to hear it now?' said the poor woman, with a sigh, as if she hardly liked to begin.
'Please, mammie dear,' said Rosalie.
'Then draw closer to me, child, for I don't want Toby to hear; and, mind, you must never speak of what I'm going to tell you before your father—never; promise me, Rosalie,' she said earnestly.
'No, never, mammie dear,' said little Rosalie.
Then there was silence for a minute or two afterwards—no sound to be heard but the cracking of Toby's whip and the rumbling of the waggons behind.