his wishes, even if her heart were strongly enlisted in the matter. Yet I had, thus far, no reason to hope that I had excited more than a passing interest.
Finding her way thus blocked, not displeased, perhaps, at the excuse thus offered, she stopped her curricle, and inquired whether I had brought any message. I produced the excuse with which the kindly forethought of Ialma had provided me. Reva turned the leaves of the album somewhat absently, as I thought. Perhaps she was conscious of the intentness of my gaze; for I gazed as one that looks his last upon what he scarcely hopes to see again, except in memory.
"You look pale," she said hesitatingly, as she returned the album. "I hope we did not overwork you yesterday."
As she said this, with a touch of shyness quite new in her manner, and in a tone that showed real concern, with despair I thought her more adorable, though, alas! more inaccessible, than ever. It must have been some such feeling that made me reckless. I cannot otherwise account for the audacity of my reply.
"For what ails me, this has been recommended as a remedy," said I, producing the sprig of eglantine, and holding it up to her view.
"That!" she exclaimed, in evident surprise. "Who recommended that as a remedy? and for"—She did not complete the question. Some sudden idea seemed to strike her: she checked herself, colored slightly, and murmuring, "I must be going," began to put her vehicle in motion. But not thus was she to escape.
"Does any of this plant grow in your garden?" I inquired, walking beside the curricle.
