smiling. Who could meet Clarence Ensign’s laughing eye and not smile? What did astonish her, however, was the sight of an elegant basket of hothouse lowers perched on a table in the centre of the room. It made her pause, and cast looks of inquiry at the demure countenance of Miss Abby, and the quietly satisfied expression of her more thoughtful aunt.
“A remembrance from the city!” said Mr. Ensign gracefully. “I thought it might help to recall some happy hours to you.”
With a swelling of the heart which she could not understand, she leaned over the ample cluster of roses and heliotrope. She felt as though she could embrace them; they were more than flowers, they were the visible emblem of all she had missed, and for which she had longed these many months.
“I seem to receive the whole in the part,” said she.
He may or may not have understood her, but he saw she was gratified, and that was sufficient. The afternoon flew by on wings of light. Miss Belinda, who was not accustomed to holidays, but who thoroughly appreciated them when they came, entered into the conversation with zest; while Miss Abby’s unconscious expressions of pleasure were too naive not to add to, rather than detract from the general enjoyment. The twilight, with its goodbye, came all too soon.
“I have a request to make before I go,” said Mr. Ensign. He was standing alone with Paula in the embrasure of the window, a few moments before his departure. “When we see a flower nodding on a ledge above our heads, we long for it; I have heard you talk of friendship, and a great desire has seized me. Miss Fairchild will you be my friend?”
She gave him a startled glance that, however, soon settled into a mellow radiant look of sympathy and pleasure.