"I'm not going to die just yet, I guess, neither am I going to be housed up all winter.

The fresh air has done me good already,--see," and she pointed to a bright round spot which burnt upon her cheeks.
A young girl, whose family had one by one fallen victims to the great New England plague, consumption, shuddered and turned way, for to her eye the glow which Rose called health was but the hectic bloom of death.
"How beautiful she is!" said more than one, as with her accustomed grace Rose entered the brilliant drawing-room.

And truly Rose was beautiful that night, but like the gorgeous foliage of the fading autumn 'twas the beauty of decay, for death was written on her blue-veined brow, and lurked amid the roses on her cheek.

But little thought she of that, as with smiling lip and beaming eye she received the homage of the admiring throng.
"Upon my word, you do look very well," said Henry, coming for a moment to his sister's side.

"Why, you'd be the star of the evening, were it not for _ma belle_ Ella.