It may have
been a foolish idea, but after three weeks it seemed still worse,--a useless
one; for after several interviews she felt herself drifting farther and
farther from Claude; and if he felt any burning ambition to make her his own,
he certainly concealed it with admirable art. Given up, with the most
offensive magnanimity, by Stephen, and not greatly desired by Claude,--that
seemed the present status of proud Rose Wiley of the Brier Neighborhood.
It was June, she remembered, as she leaned out of the open window; at least it
was June in Edgewood, and she supposed for convenience' sake they called it
June in Boston. Not that it mattered much what the poor city prisoners called
it. How beautiful the river would be at home, with the trees along the banks
in full leaf! How she hungered and thirsted for the river,--to see it sparkle
in the sunlight; to watch the moonglade stretching from one bank to the other;
to hear the soft lap of the water on the shore, and the distant murmur of the
falls at the bridge! And the Brier Neighborhood would be at its loveliest, for
the wild roses were in blossom by now. And the little house! How sweet it must
look under the shade of the elms, with the Saco rippling at the back! Was poor
Rufus still lying in a darkened room, and was Stephen nursing him,
--disappointed Stephen, dear, noble old Stephen?
XII
Gold and Pinchbeck
Just then Mrs.
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