little expectancy. This was a critical moment, and Cornelia hesitated slightly. Some little false sprite put a ready excuse into her heart, but she banished it at once, and with the courage of one who fears lest they are not truthful enough, she said with a blunt directness which put all subterfuge out of the question—
“Mother, I have been a long time, but I met Lieutenant Hyde, and we walked down to the Battery; and I think I have stayed beyond the hour I ought to have stayed—but the weather was so delightful.”
“The weather is very delightful, and Lieutenant Hyde is very polite. Did he speak of the violets he sent you?”
“I suppose he forgot them. Ah, there they are! How beautiful! How fragrant! I will give them to you, mother.”
“They are your own, my dear. I would not give them away.”
Then Cornelia lifted them, and shyly buried her face in their beauty and sweetness; and afterwards took the card in her hand and read “Lieutenant George Hyde.” “But, mother,” she said, “Arenta called him Joris.”
“Joris is George, my dear.”
“Certainly, I had forgotten. Joris is the Dutch, George is the English form. I think I like George better.”
“As you have neither right nor occasion to call him by either name, it is of no consequence Take away your flowers and put them in water—the young man is very extravagant, I think. Do you know that it is quite noon, and your father will be home in a little while?”
And there was such kind intent, such a divining sympathy in the simple words, that Cornelia’s heart grew warm with pleasure; and she felt that her mother understood, and did not much blame her. At the same time she was glad to escape all questioning, and with the violets pressed to her heart, and her shining eyes dropped to them, she went with some haste to her room. There she kissed the flowers, one by one, as she put them in the refreshing water; and then, forgetting all else, sat down and permitted herself to enter the delicious land of Reverie. She let the thought of Hyde repossess her; and present again and again to her imagination his form, his face, his voice, and those long caressing looks she had seen and felt,
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