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18, 1860.] “Oh, then, I can’t say. Why should he condemn himself?”

“But you would know—you would know that he was a man to suffer death rather than be guilty of the smallest baseness. His birth—what is that!” Rose fillipped her fingers: “But his acts—what he is himself you would be sure of, would you not? Dear Juley! Oh, for heaven’s sake speak out plainly to me.”

A wily look had crept over Juliana’s features.

“Certainly,” she said, in a tone that belied it, and drawing Rose to her bosom, the groan she heard there was passing sweet to her.

“He has confessed it to mama,” sobbed Rose. “Why did he not come to me first? He has confessed it—the abominable thing has come out of his own mouth. He went to her last night ”

Juliana patted her shoulders regularly as they heaved. When words were intelligible between them, Juliana said: “At least, dear, you must admit that he has redeemed it.”

“Redeemed it? Could he do less?” Rose dried her eyes vehemently, as if the tears shamed her. “A man who could have let another suffer for his crime—I could never have lifted my head again. I think I would have cut off this hand that plighted itself to him! As it is, I hardly dare look at myself. But you don’t think it, dear? You know it to be false! false! false!”

“Why should Mr. Harrington confess it?” said Juliana.

“Oh, speak his name?” cried Rose.

Her cousin smiled. “So many strange things happen?” she said, and sighed.

“Don’t sigh: I shall think you believe it!” cried Rose.

An appearance of constrained repose was assumed. Rose glanced up, studied for an instant, and breathlessly uttered: “You do, you do believe it, Juley?”

For answer, Juliana hugged her with much warmth, and recommenced the patting.

“I dare say it’s a mistake,” she remarked. “He may have been jealous of Ferdinand. You know I have not seen the letter. I have only heard of it. In love, they say, you ought to excuse And the want of religious education! His sister ”

Rose interrupted her with a sharp shudder. Might it not be possible that one who had the same blood as the Countess might stoop to a momentary vileness?

How changed was Rose from the haughty damsel of yesterday!

“Do you think my lover could tell a lie?” “He would not love me long if I did!”

These phrases arose and rang in Juliana’s ears while she pursued her task of comforting the broken spirit that now lay prone on the bed, and now impetuously paced the room. But as Rose had entered, she did not leave it. She came, thinking the moment Juliana’s name was mentioned, that here was the one to fortify her faith in Evan: one who, because she loved, could not doubt him. She departed in a terror of distrust, loathing her cousin: not asking herself why she needed support. And indeed she was too young for much clear self-questioning, and her blood was flowing too quickly for her brain to perceive more than one thing at a time.

“Does your mother believe it!” said Juliana, evading a direct assault.

“Mama? She never doubts what you speak,” answered Rose, disconsolately.

“She does?”

“Yes.”

Whereat Juliana looked most grave, and Rose felt that it was hard to breathe.

She had grown very cold and calm, and Juliana had to be expansive unprovoked.

“Believe nothing, dear, till you hear it from his own lips. If he can look in your face and say that he did it well, then! But of course he cannot. It must be some wonderful piece of generosity to his rival.”

“So I thought, Juley! so I thought,” cried Rose, at the new light, and Juliana smiled contemptuously, and the light flickered and died, and all was darker than before in the bosom of Rose.

“Of course, it must be that, if it is anything,” Juliana pursued. “You were made to be happy, Rose. And consider, if it is true, people of very low birth, till they have lived long with other people, and if they have no religion, are so very likely to do things. You do not judge them as you do real gentlemen, and one must not be too harsh—I only wish to prepare you for the worst.’worst.” [sic]

A dim form of that very idea had passed through Rose, giving her small comfort.

“Let him tell you with his own lips that what he has told your mother is true, and then, and not till then, believe him,” Juliana concluded, and they kissed kindly, and separated. Rose had suddenly lost her firm step, but no sooner was Juliana alone than she left the bed, and addressed her visage to the glass with brightening eyes, as one who saw the glimmer of young hope therein.

“She love him! Not if he told me so ten thousand times would I believe it! and before he has said a syllable she doubts him. Asking me in that frantic way! as if I couldn’t see that she wanted me to help her to her faith in him, as she calls it. Not name his name? Mr. Harrington! I may call him Evan: some day!”

Half-uttered, half-mused, the unconscious exclamations issued from her, and for many a weary day since she had dreamed of love, and studied that which is said to attract the creature, she had not been so glowingly elated or looked so much farther in the glass than its pale reflection.



relations with Japan appear to have culminated about 1577; then it is that we read of that embassy to Rome, which is the only one on record, previous to the one that has recently reached the United States. The envoys on that occasion did not, however, come from the emperor, but from the almost independent princes of Bungo, Arima, and Oruma. We gather that this embassy sailed from Nangasaki, and, after many dangers,