luster of pale-blue blossoms;
while the low easy-chair in which the girl is reclining, and the pretty
sofa with its plump cushions inviting to repose, repeat the same tale.
The tale is again repeated, though in a different way, by a scroll
running round the top of the wall, on which in letters of blue and gold
is written at intervals: "Ne m'oubliez pas!" "Vergiss mein nicht!" "Non
ti scordar!" and the same sentiment is repeated in Spanish, Latin,
Greek, and Hebrew, of all which tongues the fond father possessed
knowledge.

Is not this indeed a bower, wherein a girl ought to be happy? the bird
in the window thinks his blue and gold cage the finest house in the
world, and sings as heartily and cheerily as if he had been in the wide
green forest; but his mistress does not sing. She sits in the
easy-chair, with a book upside-down in her lap, and frowns,--actually
frowns, in a forget-me-not bower! There is not much the matter, really.
Her head aches, that is all. Her German lesson has been longer and
harder than usual, and her father was quite right about the caramels;
there is a box of them on the table now, within easy reach of the slim
white hand with its forget-me-not ring of blue turquoises. (I do not
altogether agree with Mr. Graham about hanging the caramel-maker, but I
should heartily like to burn all his wares. Fancy a great mountain of
caramels and chocolate-creams and marrons glaces piled up in Union
Square, for example, and blazing away merrily,--that is, if the things
would burn, which is more than doubtful. How the maidens would weep and
wring their hands while the heartless parents chuckled and fed the
flames with all the precious treasures of Maillard and Huyler! Ah! it is
a pleasant thought, for I who write this am a heartless parent, do you
see?)

As I said before, Hilda had no suspicion of the plot which her parents
were concocting. She knew that her father was obliged to go to San
Francisco, being called suddenly to administer the estate of a cousin
who had recently died there, and that her mother and--as she
supposed--herself were going with him to offer sympathy and help to the
widow, an invalid with three little children. As to the idea of her
being left behind; of her father's starting off on a long journey
without his lieutenant-general; of her mother's parting from her only
child, whom she had watched with tender care and anxiety since the day
of her birth,--such a thought never came into Hilda's