etly kissed the delicate petals of a lovely, half-opened rose-bud.
She felt as if intoxicated, and the bright tears flowed in slow
succession down her cheeks. Mary was the first to detect the brooch
stuck into the ribbons that tied the stems of the flowers. She
unfastened it and showed it to Selene, who hastily took it out of her
hand. Blushing deeper and deeper, she fixed her eyes on the intaglio
carved on the stone of the love god sharpening his arrows. She felt
her pain no more pain, she felt quite well, and at the same time glad,
proud, too happy. Dame Hannah noted her excitement with much anxiety;
she nodded to Mary and said:

"Now my daughter, this must do; we will place the flowers outside the
window so that you may see them."

"Already," said Selene, in a regretful tone, and she broke off a few
violets and roses from the crowded mass. When she was alone again, she
laid the flowers down and once more tenderly contemplated the figures on
the handsome gem. It had no doubt been engraved by Teuker, the brother
of Pollux. How fine the carving was, how significant the choice of the
subject represented! Only the heavy gold setting disturbed the poor
child, who for so many years had had to stint and contrive with her
money. She said to herself that it was wrong of the young fellow, who,
besides being poor, had to support his sister, to rush into such an
outlay for her. But his gift gave her none the less pleasure, out of her
own possessions nothing would have seemed too precious to give him. She
would teach him to be saving by-and-bye.

The women presently returned after they had with much trouble set up
the nosegay outside the window, and they renewed the wet handkerchief
without speaking. She did not in the least want to talk, she was
listening with so much pleasure to the fair promises which her fancy
was making, and wherever she turned her eyes they fell on something she
could love, The flowers on her bed, the brooch in her hand, the nosegay
outside the window, and never dreaming that another--not the man she
loved--could have sent it to her, another for whom she cared even less
than for the Christians who walked up and down in Paulina's garden,
under her window. There she lay, full of sweet contentment and secure
of a love that had never been hers--of possessing the heart of a man who
never once thought of her, but who, only a few hours since, had rushed
off with her sister, intoxicated with joy and delight. Poor