figure which two glasses were now reflecting. An open window gave cause for a shiver—and that was excuse for the boa, too graceful for even June to banish. With a secret consciousness that she was dressed in the very colour which Lorraine had, a week before, said was his favourite, she ran down to the drawing-room, and, approaching a stand of flowers, paused for a moment on the choice of scarlet geraniums, heliotropes, lilies, &c. when Edward came from the other room.
"Nay, Miss Arundel, the blossoms before you are too sophisticated,—their life has been for a whole morning artificial: unwilling to delegate the choice, I drove this morning to Colville's,—allow me to offer you my selection;" and he gave her two of the freshest of moss-rosebuds,—those very loveliest of infant flowers.
Lorraine might have been struck with the deepness of her blush,—he only noticed the beauty of it.
"Do you know," said he, laughingly, "if you blush your thanks so prettily, I must apply to you the compliment paid the Italian poet,
'Tutti sei pensieri sono de' rose.'"
Lady Alicia now came in, and, while waiting
