Instead , I found in Rose Lawrence a small , faded woman of forty-five , gowned in shabby black . She had evidently been very pretty once , but bloom and grace were gone . Her face had a sweet and gentle expression , but was tired and worn , and her fair hair was plentifully streaked with grey . Alas , I thought compassionately , for Uncle Dick 's dreams ! What a shock the change to her must have given him ! Could this be the woman on whom he had lavished such a life-wealth of love and reverence ? I tried to talk to her , but I found her shy and timid . She seemed to me uninteresting and commonplace . And this was Uncle Dick 's Rose of joy ! I was so sorry for Uncle Dick that I shrank from meeting him . Nevertheless , I went over after tea , fearing that he might misunderstand , nay , rather , understand , my absence . He was in the garden , and he came down the path where the buds were just showing . There was a smile on his face and the glory in his eyes was quite undimmed . `` Master , she 's come . And she 's not a bit changed . I feared she would be , but she is just the same -- my sweet little Rose of joy ! '' I looked at Uncle Dick in some amazement . He was thoroughly sincere , there was no doubt of that , and I felt a great throb of relief . He had found no disillusioning change . I saw Rose Lawrence merely with the cold eyes of the stranger .
He saw her through the transfiguring medium of a love that made her truly his Rose XXXXX joy .
after for in life-wealth of on that throb to with