She was swaying backward and forward dreamily singing, and she started up when she saw Catherine.
'Roeschen,' said the elder sister, going up to her with a tremor of heart, and putting her motherly arms round the curly golden hair and the half-covered shoulders, 'you never told me of that letter from Manchester, but Agnes did.

Did you think, Roeschen, I would never let you have your way?
Oh, I am not so hard! I may have been wrong--I think I have been wrong; you shall do what you will, Roeschen.

If you want to go, I will ask mother.' Rose, pushing herself away with one hand, stood staring.

She was struck dumb by this sudden breaking down of Catherine's long resistance.

And what a strange white Catherine! What did it mean?
Catherine withdrew her arms with a little sigh and moved away.
'I just came to tell you that, Roeschen,' she said, 'but I am very tired and must not stay.' Catherine 'very tired!' Rose thought the skies must be falling.
'Cathie!' she cried, leaping forward just as her sister gained the door.
'Oh, Cathie, you are an angel, and I am a nasty odious little wretch.
But oh, tell me, what is the matter ?' And she flung her strong young arms round Catherine with a passionate strength.
The elder sister struggled to release herself.
'Let me go, Rose,' she said, in a low voice.