'That is Napoleon, and this Louise, and this Belle. This red
magnificence is a _Metrosideros;_ this white flower, is--I forget its
name; but _this_, this sweet one, is Daphne. Then here are two heaths;
then this thick leaf is _Laurustinus_, and this other, with the red
bud, _Camellia japonica_.'
'Oh, how perfectly beautiful!' exclaimed the delighted child. 'Oh, how
perfectly beautiful! And this yellow flower?'
'_Coronilla_.'
'And this, is it a _red_ wallflower?'
'A red wallflower; you are right.'
'How lovely! and how sweet! And these blue?'
'These little blue flowers are _Lobelia;_ they are cousins of the
cardinal flower; _that_ is _Lobelia cardinalis;_ these are _Lobelia
erinus_ and _Lobelia gracilis_.'
He watched the girl, for under the surprise and pleasure of his gift
her face was itself but a nobler flower, all glowing and flashing and
fragrant. With eyes dewy with delight she hung over the bouquet, almost
trembling in her eagerness of joy. She set the flowers carefully in a
vase, with tender circumspection, lest a leaf might be wronged by
chance crowding or inadvertent handling. Pitt watched and read it all.
He felt a great compassion for Esther. This creature, full of life and
sensibility, receptive to every influence, at twelve years old shut up
to the company of a taciturn and melancholy father and an empty house!
What would ever become of her? There was the colonel now, on the sofa,
attending only to his book; caring nothing for what was so moving his
child. Nobody cared, or was anywhere to sympathize with her. And if she
grew up so, shut up to herself, every feeling and desire repressed for
want of expression or of somebody to express it to, how would her
nature ever develop? would it not grow stunted and poor, compared with
what it might be? He was sorry for his little playmate and friend; and
it did the young fellow credit, I think, for at his age boys are not
wont to be tenderly sympathetic towards anything, unless it be a
beloved mother or sister. Pitt silently watched the putting the flowers
in water, speculating upon the very unhopeful condition of this little
human plant, and revolving schemes in his mind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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