"Give me," said the lady, passing her hand over Julia's head with a caressing motion--"give me some of these roses; it is a long time since I have touched a flower grown in home soil!" Julia selected her freshest bouquet and held it up. The lady's hand trembled as she drew forth her purse, and dropping a bright coin into the basket, received the flowers. "Take a few of the strawberries, lady, they are so ripe and cool!" said the little girl, lifting one of the baskets from its leafy nest. Again the lady smiled through her tears, and taking the little basket, poured a few of the strawberries into her ungloved hand. "Would not he like some?" questioned the child, offering the basket with its scarcely diminished contents to the man, who still kept his eyes fixed on her face. "No, not them--but give me a bunch of the blue flowers--they grew around the rock-spring at the old homestead, thousands and thousands on 'em!" cried the man, with a strong Down East pronunciation, and securing a tuft of the violets he turned aside, as if ashamed of the emotion he had betrayed. The lady turned away. Something in his words seemed to have disturbed her greatly. She gathered the shawl about her, and moved towards a carriage that had drawn close up to the wharf. Julia's heart beat quick; she could not bear to see that strange, beautiful woman depart without speaking to her again. "Lady, will you take this one little bunch?--some people love violets better than anything!" "No, no, I cannot--I----" The lady paused, tears seemed choking her. She drew down the folds of a rich blonde veil over her face, and moved on. Julia laid the violets back into her basket with a sigh. Feelings of vague disappointment were saddening her heart. When she looked up again, the lady had taken her seat in the carriage, and leaning out was beckoning to her. "I will take the violets!" she said, reaching forth her hand, that trembled as the simple blossoms were placed in it.--"Heaven forbid that I should cast the sweet omen from me. Thank you child--thank you." The lady drew back into the carriage. Her face was clouded by the veil, but tears trembled in her voice, and that voice lingered upon Julia Warren's ear many a long month afterward. It had unlocked the deepest well-spring of her life. The strawberry girl stood upon the wharf motionless and lost in thought minutes after the carriage drove away. She had forgotten the basket on her arm, everything in the strange regret that lay upon her young heart. Never, never would she meet that beautiful woman again. The thought filled her soul with unutterable loneliness. She was unconscious that another carriage had driven up, and that a Southern vessel, arrived that morning, was pouring forth luggage and passengers on the opposite side of the pier. She took no heed of anything that was passing around her, till a sweet, low voice close by, exclaimed-- "Oh! see those flowers--those beautiful, beautiful moss rose-buds!"