old for
sentiment, provided that it strikes him at the right time and in the
right way! What did that bunch of wild flowers betoken? Knowledge,
first; then, sympathy; and finally, encouragement, at least. Of course
she had seen my accident, from above; of course she had sent the
harvest laborer to aid me home. It was quite natural she should imagine
some special, romantic interest in the lonely dell, on my part, and the
gift took additional value from her conjecture.

Four days afterward, there was a hop in the large dining-room of the
hotel. Early in the morning, a fresh bouquet had been left at my door.
I was tired of my enforced idleness, eager to discover the fair unknown
(she was again fair, to my fancy!), and I determined to go down,
believing that a cane and a crimson velvet slipper on the left foot
would provoke a glance of sympathy from certain eyes, and thus enable
me to detect them.

The fact was, the sympathy was much too general and effusive.
Everybody, it seemed, came to me with kindly greetings; seats were
vacated at my approach, even fat Mrs. Huxter insisting on my taking her
warm place, at the head of the room. But Bob Leroy--you know him--as
gallant a gentleman as ever lived, put me down at the right point, and
kept me there. He only meant to divert me, yet gave me the only place
where I could quietly inspect all the younger ladies, as dance or
supper brought them near.

One of the dances was an old-fashioned cotillon, and one of the
figures, the "coquette," brought every one, in turn, before me. I
received a pleasant word or two from those whom I knew, and a long,
kind, silent glance from Miss May Danvers. Where had been my eyes? She
was tall, stately, twenty-five, had large dark eyes, and long dark
lashes! Again the changes of the dance brought her near me; I threw (or
strove to throw) unutterable meanings into my eyes, and cast them upon
hers. She seemed startled, looked suddenly away, looked back to me,
and--blushed. I knew her for what is called "a nice girl"--that is,
tolerably frank, gently feminine, and not dangerously intelligent. Was
it possible that I had overlooked so much character and intellect?

As the cotillon closed, she was again in my neighborhood, and her
partner led her in my direction. I was rising painfully from my chair,
when Bob Leroy pushed me down again, whisked another seat from
somewhere, planted it at my side, and there she was!

She knew who was her neighbor, I plai