The Reaping by Mary Imlay Taylor

THAT Mrs. Allestree's divinations were not very far short of the truth, or unlikely of fulfilment, would have been apparent to her could she have looked in, a few weeks later, on Rose and Fox together in Judge Temple's fine old library. In the judge's estimation the library was the one spot of the house, the sanctum sanctorum, and its noble book-lined walls imparted a warmth of color and an erudite dignity to a room of fine proportions lighted by an immense southern bow-window which overlooked the walled garden, where Rose had cultivated every flower which blooms in summer and every evergreen vine and ilex which lives in winter.

Over the high wide mantel was one fine old painting which testified both to the extravagance and distinctive taste of the judge's grandfather, and on the book littered table stood a slender vase filled with roses. There was an exquisite delicacy, a refinement, an atmosphere of culture, even in such minutie as these, which gave a detailed charm to the perspective of the entire house.