'Twas the "spare chamber," at whose windows Rose, when a little girl, had stood for hours, watching the thin, blue mist and fleecy clouds, as they floated around the tall green mountains, which at no great distance seemed to tower upward, and upward, until their tops were lost in the sky above.

At the foot of the mountain and nearer Glenwood, was a small sheet of water which now in the spring time was plainly discernible from the windows of Rose's chamber, and with careful forethought Mrs.Howland arranged the bed so that the sick girl could look out upon the tiny lake and the mountains beyond.

Snowy white, and fragrant with the leaves of rose and geranium which had been pressed within their folds, were the sheets which covered the bed, the last Rose Lincoln would ever rest upon.

Soft and downy were the pillows, and the patchwork quilt, Rose's particular aversion, was removed, and its place supplied by one of more modern make.
Once Mrs.Howland thought to shade the windows with the Venetian blinds which hung in the parlor below; but they shut out so much sunlight, and made the room so gloomy, that she carried them back, substituting in their place plain white muslin curtains.

The best rocking chair, and the old-fashioned carved mirror, were brought up from the parlor; and then when all was done, Mrs.Howland gave a sigh of satisfaction that it was so well done, and closed the room until Rose should arrive..