"Yes, alone; just as I expected," he answered somewhat bitterly.
Then very briefly he related to her the particulars of his adventure,
to which she listened eagerly, one moment chiding herself for the
faint, shadowy hope which whispered that possibly Maggie Miller would
never be his wife, and again sympathizing in his disappointment.
"A year will not be very long," she said, "and in the new scenes to
which you are going it will pass rapidly away;" and then, in her
childlike, guileless manner, she drew a glowing picture of the future,
when, her own health restored, they would return to their old home in
Leominster, where, after a few months more, he would bring to them his
bride.
"You are my comforting angel, Rose," he said, folding her lovingly in
his arms and kissing her smooth white cheek. "With such a treasure as
you for a sister, I ought not to repine, even though Maggie Miller
should never be mine."
The words were lightly spoken, and by him soon forgotten, but Rose
remembered them long, dwelling upon them in the wearisome nights, when
in her narrow berth she listened to the swelling sea as it dashed
against the vessel's side. Many a fond remembrance, too, she gave
to Maggie Miller, who, in her woodland home, thought often of the
travelers on the sea, never wishing that she was with them; but
experiencing always a feeling of pleasure in knowing that she was
Maggie Miller yet, and should be until next year's autumn leaves were
falling.
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