again was the same
effect of arrangement--an arrangement obviously designed by the same
brain that had planned the building and grounds. Shiel could not
conceive anything more graceful. Flowers--flowers of every hue and
odour were the chief decoration of the cottage. On almost every table
were vases--in themselves beautiful enough--yet filled to overflowing
with the finest roses. Ox-eye daisies, hollyhocks and forget-me-nots
clustered about the open windows. And every puff of wind, every breath
of air transmitted scent--the most delicious medley of scent
imaginable.

The young man drew in deep draughts of it; he threw back his head,
and, opening his mouth, revelled in the joy of feeling it steal softly
down his throat and permeate his lungs. He was thus engaged when the
sound of a voice brought him sharply back to earth.

In the open doorway of the house, an amused expression in her violet
eyes, stood a girl--so wondrously pretty, that at the sight of her
Shiel was again overcome, and could only gaze in helpless admiration.

"Do you want to see my father?" she inquired. "He is getting ready to
go out, but I daresay he will see you first."

"I--I am sure he will," the young man replied, "I'm Shiel Davenport.
I've come to tell him my uncle died at four o'clock this morning."

"Oh, dear!" the girl exclaimed, "I am so sorry--sorry for you, and for
my father. I'm sure he will be terribly upset. I'm Gladys Martin,
perhaps you've heard of me--I knew your uncle."

"Often," Shiel said, "And I think my uncle's description of you an
excellent one."

"His description of me!"

"Yes! he always spoke of you as the Queen of Flowers, and said you had
a mania for all things beautiful, which was not surprising, seeing how
beautiful you were yourself."

"That was very nice of him," Gladys said, looking amused again. "Won't
you come in? If you will wait here"--she led him to the
drawing-room--"I'll tell my father."

She disappeared, and Shiel heard her run lightly up the stairs.

"By Jove," he said to himself, "she's the loveliest girl I've ever
seen. From being so much among flowers, she has become one herself.
Violets, roses, and heliotrope have all had a share in her creation!
What eyes, what a mouth! what teeth! what hands! Surely I have found
here, not only the perfection of all things beautiful, but the
perfection of all things natural, the perfection of natural grace in
contradistinction from artificial grace. Moreover