A Question
“Think on thy sins.”
The next morning when Mr. Sylvester came down to breakfast, he found on the library-table an exquisite casket, similar to the one he had given Paula the night before, but larger, and filled with flowers of the most delicious odor.
“For Miss Fairchild,” explained Samuel, who was at that moment passing through the room.
With a pang of jealous surprise, that, however, failed to betray itself in his steadily composed countenance, Mr. Sylvester advanced to the side of the table, and lifted up the card that hung attached to the beautiful present. The name he read there seemed to startle him; he moved away, and took up his paper with a dark flush on his brow, that had not disappeared when Miss Belinda entered the room.
“Humph!” was her immediate exclamation, as her eye rested upon the conspicuous offering in the centre of the apartment. But instantly remembering herself, advanced with a cheerful good morning, which however did not prevent her eyes from wandering with no small satisfaction towards this fresh evidence of Mr. Ensign’s assiduous regard.
“Paula is remembered by others than ourselves,” remarked Mr. Sylvester, probably observing her glance.
“Yes; she has a very attentive suitor in Mr. Ensign,” returned Miss Belinda shortly. “A pleasant appearing young man,” she ejaculated next moment; “worthy in many respects of success, I should say.”