He released her hand, and stood looking at her, as she played with the petals of the flower. Not a word had Austin spoken of his love; not a word was he sure that he might speak. If he partially divined that it might be acceptable to her, he did not believe it would be to Mr. Hunter. 'The plant looks sickly,' he observed. 'Yes. It is one that thrives in cold and wind. It came from Scotland. Mamma feared this close London atmosphere would not suit it; but I said it looked so hardy, it would be sure to do well. Rather than it should die, I would send it back to its bleak home.' 'In tears, Florence? for the sake of a plant?' 'Not for that,' she answered, twinkling the moisture from her eyelashes, as she raised them to his with a brave smile. 'I was thinking of mamma; she appears to be fading rapidly, like the plant.' 'She may grow stronger when the heat of summer shall have passed.' Florence slightly shook her head, as if she could not share in the suggested hope. 'Mamma herself does not seem to think she shall, Austin. She has dropped ominous words more than once latterly. This afternoon I showed her the plant, that it was drooping. "Ay, my dear," she remarked, "it is like me--on the wane." And I think my uncle Bevary's opinion has become unfavourable.' It was a matter on which Austin could not urge hope, though, for the sake of tranquillizing Florence, he might suggest it, for he believed that Mrs. Hunter was fading rapidly. All these years she seemed to have been getting thinner and weaker; it was some malady connected with the spine, causing her at times great pain. Austin changed the subject. 'I hope Mr. Hunter will soon be in, Florence. I am come to ask for leave of absence.' 'Papa is not out; he is sitting with mamma. That is another reason why I fear danger for her. I think papa sees it; he is so solicitous for her comfort, so anxious to be with her, as if he would guard her from surprise or agitating topics. He will not suffer a visitor to enter at hazard; he will not let a note be given her until he has first seen it.' 'But he has long been thus anxious,' replied Austin, who was aware that what she spoke of had lasted for years. 'I know. But still, latterly--however, I must hope against hope,' broke off Florence. 'I think I do: hope is certainly a very strong ingredient in my nature, for I cannot realize the parting with my dear mother. Did you say you have come for leave of absence? Where is it that you wish to go?' 'I have had a telegraphic despatch from Ketterford,' he replied, taking it from his pocket. 'My good old friend, Mrs. Thornimett, is dying, and I must hasten thither with all speed.' 'Oh!' uttered Florence, almost reproachfully. 'And you are wasting the time with me!'