"You are going away early," said Coralie, as I ordered my horse. "Surely you will not be away all day, Sir Edgar?" "I am going to Harden Manor, and cannot say when I shall return. Do not wait dinner for me--I may dine there." "It will be a long, dark day," she said, with a sigh. "Do not be late--every hour will seem like two." She hovered round me, asking many questions, evidently seeking to know my business there. When my horse was brought to the door, she came to me with a delicate spray of heliotrope. "Let me fasten this in your coat, Sir Edgar. No gentleman looks completely dressed without a flower. You do not know what heliotrope means. Men never--or, at least, very seldom--care for the sweetest of all languages--the language of flowers. What that heliotrope means, cousin, I say to you." It was not until some weeks afterward that, looking quite accidentally over an old book, I discovered the spray of heliotrope meant, "I love you." The beautiful picture of this fair, passionate woman died from my mind as I went to seek one a thousand times more fair. How well I remember the day--the golden sunshine, the fragrant wind, the blooming flowers, as I rode forth to win my love! It seemed to me that the summer skies smiled on me, and the singing birds wished me joy. The way to Harden Manor lay through green, flowery lanes and a shady highroad. It seemed long because my heart sighed to be with her; yet short because I was so uncertain what to say, and how my wooing would end. I reached the manor at last. Sir John was from home. Lady Thesiger and Agatha were busily engaged in making pretty fancy articles for a grand fancy fair that was to be held--for the benefit of some out-of-the-way people--by special permission of His Grace the Duke of Fairholme in the grounds of Fairholme Castle. Lady Thesiger looked up when I entered, with a smile. "Good morning, Sir Edgar; I am very glad to see you. Agatha and I were just wishing we had a gentleman to help us. Are you willing to assist us for a day?" My face flushed hotly with delight. "Am I willing to give myself a day of Utopian delight, Lady Thesiger? Most certainly. I will do anything--I can be very useful. I can mount drawings, frame photographs, sketch and design, and my humble talents are all yours." Then Agatha looked at me, and the glance of those eyes was so sweet I almost lost myself. "The Cherokee Indians, or whatever they are called, will be much obliged to you," she said. "I cannot call working for them 'Utopian delight;' my fingers ache with this stiff cardboard." "You willfully misunderstand me, Miss Thesiger; the delight consists in being with you, not in working for the Cherokees. Save that I shudder when I hear that they have eaten a missionary, they have no particular interest for me." Lady Thesiger smiled.