ed that the
creamy white of the petals could be seen within the riven sheath, whose
strong dark color exquisitely relieved the pallid beauty it had guarded
so long. The silky stamens were still curled about the central style,
but the splendor of color which was coming was already suggested, and a
breath of intoxicating fragrance stole from the heart of the immaculate
flower.

They spoke to each other in low tones, as if impressed with a sort of
awe at the beautiful and mysterious development of fragrant and lovely
life going forward under their sight. The dark eyes of Alice Belding
were full of that vivid happiness which strange and charming things
bring to intelligent girlhood. She was looking with all her soul, and
her breath was quick and high, and her soft red lips were parted and
tremulous. Farnham looked from her to the flower, and back again,
gazing on both with equal safety, for the one was as unconscious of his
admiring glances as the other.

Suddenly, the sound of bells floated in from the neighboring street,
and both of the ladies started. "No, don't you go," said Mrs. Belding
to her daughter. "I must, because I have to see my 'Rescue the
Perishing.' But you can just as well stay here and make your sketch.
Mr. Farnham can take care of you, and I will be back in an hour."

"But, mamma!" cried Miss Alice, too much scandalized to speak another
word.

"I won't have you lose this chance," her mother continued. "I am sure
Mr. Farnham will not object to taking care of you a little while; and
if he hasn't the time, Fergus will bring you home--hm, Fergus?"

"Ay, madam, with right guid will," the gardener said, his hard face
softening into a smile.

"There, sit down in that chair and begin your sketch. It is lovely just
as it is." She waited until Alice, whose confusion had turned her face
crimson, had taken her seat, opened her sketch-book, and taken her
pencils in her trembling hands, and then the brisk and hearty woman
drew her shawl about her and bustled to the door.

"I will walk to the church door with you," said Farnham, to the
infinite relief of Alice, who regained her composure at the instant,
and began with interest to sketch the flower. She thought, while her
busy fingers were at work, that she had perhaps been too prudish in
objecting to her mother's plan. "He evidently thinks nothing of it, and
why should I?"

By the time Farnham returned, the cereus had attained its full glory of
bloom. Its vas