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Show 160 'Aotblnt tb•t 18 notUruc Gllb '!Rose anb $1!\let Evening after evening, she made the same excuse, longing for her own room, with a locked and bolted door between her and the outer world. Lonely and miserable though she was, she had at least the sense of shelter. Pride, too, sustained her, for, looking back to the night they met, months ago, she could remember no word nor act, or even a look of hers that had been out of keeping. Over and over again she insisted to herself, stubbornly: "I will have nothing that is not true-nothing that is not true." In the midnight silences, when she lay wide awake, though all the rest of the world slept, the words chimed in with her heart-beats: uNothing that is not true-nothing-that is-not true." Madame Francesca, loving Rose dearly, became sorely troubled and perplexed. She could not fail to see and understand, and, at times, feared that Allison and Isabel must see and understand also. She watched Rose faithfully and shielded her at every possible point. When Isabel inquired why Rose was always tired in the evening, Madame explained that she had been working too hard and that she had made her promise to rest. Rose spent more time than usual at the piano but she neglected her own work in favour of Allison's accompaniments. When she was alone, she could play them creditably, even without the notes, but if, by any chance, :an JEncbanteb t:>our 161 he stood beside her, waiting until the prelude ll<Jravc was finished, she faltered at the first sound of Pt'oblcm the violin. At last she gave it up and kept more and more to her own room. Madame meditated upon the advisability of sending Isabel away, providing it could be done gracefully, or even taking her on some brief journey, thus leaving Rose in full possession of the house. Yet, in her heart, she knew that it would be only a subterfuge; that it was better to meet the issues of Life squarely than to attempt to hide from them, since inevitably all must be met. She could not bear to see Rose hurt, nor could she endure easily the spectacle of her beloved foster son upon the verge of a lifelong mistake. Several times she thought of talking to Colonel Kent, and, more rarely, of speaking to Allison himself, but she had learned to apply to speech the old maxim referring to letter-writing: "When in doubt, don't." It happened that Allison came late one after-noon, when Isabel had gone to town in search of new finery and Rose was in her own room. Madame had just risen from her afternoon nap, and, after he had waited a few moments, she came down. "Where 's Isabel?" he asked, as he greeted her. "Shopping," smiled Madame. "I know, but I thought she'd be at home by |