no longer bear its weight. She turned to push it off, when lo! it had changed into a monster, with sharp black eyes, a huge beak, and talons like an eagle. Rose screamed and fell to the ground. The flames came nearer and nearer. She felt them scorch her clothes,-there was no escape! and uttering a loud cry, she awoke.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CONCLUSION.

AUNT Tatchet's great old house suffered no inconsiderable damage by the fire. One entire wing, where the lumberroom, the scene of Rose's danger, was situated, was a mere blackened ruin, and most of the outbuildings were destroyed. But the flames were subdued before they could reach further, and fortunately, the rooms occupied by Miss Tatchet and the children were uninjured.

Rose was laid in her own white bed; but a long illness followed, brought upon her by her dangerous knowledge of the future. Miss Tatchet, for the first time in her life, forgot her nerves and her palpitations, and nursed the little invalid with the greatest care and tenderness. She even brought the cage, in which the black dove was hopping merrily as ever, and thinking it would please Rose to see it, hung it up in the window with her own hands. She was also noticed to take from her pocket the memorandum book, where Frank's past misdemeanors were recorded, and put it secretly into the fire, stirring it about until every atom was consumed.

Rose at length, began to get better, and grew stronger

and stronger every day. First she sat up one hour, then two, and in a few weeks she was able to come down into the drawing-room.

Many events had happened during her illness. Frank had been sent to school, and Captain Wilton had taken possession of his pretty little cottage, and established Margaret there, in her important office of housekeeper. The loss of her sister was a sad trial to Rose, and she shed many tears at the remembrance of her unkind and jealous conduct. The house was dull enough with only Aunt Tatchet to speak to; and the first few days of her coming down stairs, seemed to Rose the longest she had ever spent.

She had now plenty of time to reflect upon the past; and as she sat in her little chair by the fire, she recalled, one by one, the misfortunes that had come upon her since she had consulted the talking bird. The magic lantern, the gold watch, and last of all, how terrible, the fire, the fire! The dove had become quite hateful to her, and she determined as soon as ever she was able to run about as usual, to take it into the fields and let it escape.

Accordingly, the very first morning she was strong enough to go out alone, she tied on her bonnet, and with the cage in her hand, walked resolutely down the lane. The dove began to flutter about, as if to attract her attention; but Rose would not even look at it, and the thought of asking it a question never came into her head. She hurried along until she reached the stile where the old woman had disappeared, and here she resolved to open the cage door, and let the bird go.

"Fly away, dove," said she, any more."

"and never let me see you

The dove needed no second bidding. It hopped from its perch, and spreading its wings, was gone in an instant.

"So you have parted with your talking bird, Miss Rose," said a croaking voice close to her ear; and the little girl, turning round, saw to her surprise, her old acquaintance, the tiny old woman. Where she had come from, Rose could not imagine; but there she stood, the same odd-looking figure as before, with the hump on her shoulders, and the piercing black eyes that seemed to look you through and through.

Pray what is the reason you are letting it go?" continued she, peering into Rose's face.

"Because it has quite cured me of any wish to know what is going to happen," said Rose, speaking with some bitterness. "I have done nothing but get into scrapes ever since you gave me that talking bird."

"You are a silly child to let it go, for all that, Miss Rose," said the old woman; "you cannot imagine what it would have told you next."

"Ah! I should have been much better off if it had never told me anything," said Rose; "it has got me into disgrace with my Uncle, and made me behave ill to Margaret; and now she has gone away and left me," added she, with tears in her eyes.

"Never mind about that, Miss Wilton," said the old woman in a coaxing tone, "let me call the dove back, and just ask it what will happen next. Bless me! how astonished you would be if you knew."

"O pray let the dove alone," cried Rose, "I don't want to see it any more; and I had a great deal rather not be told anything beforehand."

"But you need not keep it," persisted the old woman, holding out her hand, "you can let it go again the very minute it has told you."

66

No, no; I will not have the dove back even for a minute," said Rose, shutting the cage door, and preparing to return homeward.

"Have you quite made up your mind, Miss Rose?" said the old woman; "remember, you will not have another chance."

"I have quite made up my mind," said Rose firmly, and turning from her companion with a feeling of disgust.

The old woman frowned angrily, and shook her tiny fist. She stamped upon the ground, and then, as she had done before, abruptly disappeared.

Rose could see her no more; but from the branch of a tree, upstarted the pretty black dove, and fluttered a few times round the head of its mistress, as if in hopes she would put out her hand to catch it. Rose made no such attempt; and the bird, uttering a shrill cry, flew away, and was soon lost in the distance.

No sooner was it fairly gone, than Rose felt her heart grow light as a feather, and she skipped down the lane, merrily as on the day of her first encounter with the tiny old woman. It was a beautiful morning, and everything around her seemed in unison with her happy feelings. The trees had lost their covering of hoar frost, and no longer