How Amy's thoughts wandered as she walked along over the frosty ground! Time was when she had been as gay as Julia, and as light-hearted; but she began to think those were by-gone days, such as would never come again, or if they did, she would no longer be the same as before, and therefore would not enjoy them as she once had. Then she sighed over the past, and tried to picture to herself the future; _tried_, because very mercifully the future of our lives, the foreseeing things that may happen, is denied us. What a dark future it appeared! To be all her life going over the self-same tasks, the same dull routine day by day; her pupils might dislike their lessons, but how much more distasteful they were to her. What a dull, dreary path lay before her! She passed into the conservatory as these thoughts filled her heart. It was getting dusk, and entering hastily, she gathered a few flowers, and was turning on her way out, when she was attracted by a beautiful white Camellia, ranged amongst a number of plants rather higher up than she could reach. She stretched her arm over those below--in vain, the flower was beyond her still. She made a second attempt, when an arm was suddenly passed across her, and it was severed from its stem by some one at her side. "It was a thousand pities to have gathered it," said a tall, gentlemanly-looking man; "but I saw you were determined to have it," and he picked up the flower, which had fallen, and held it for her acceptance. "Thank you," said Amy, nervously. He had startled her; his help had been so unexpected. She told him so. "You did not perceive me? and yet I am by no means so small as to be easily overlooked. I wish I could be sometimes; but I regret I frightened you." "Not exactly frightened; only, not seeing you or knowing you were there, it----" and Amy stopped short. "Frightened you," said he, decidedly. She did not contradict him. It was evident he did not intend she should, for he scarcely allowed her time to reply as he went on, "There is another bud left on the same plant. Will you have it? I will gather it in a moment." "Oh, no, by no means. Perhaps I ought not to have taken this; but John is not here to guide me; I am rather sorry I have it now." "Never mind; it is I who am the culprit, not you. Will you have the other? Say the word, and it is yours. It is a pity to leave it neglected here, now its companion is gone," and he moved towards the flower. "Indeed I would rather not. One will be quite enough for Mrs. Linchmore, and, besides, I have so many flowers now." "They are not for yourself, then? I could almost quarrel with you for culling them for anyone else." "I never wear flowers," replied Amy, somewhat chillingly, with a slight touch of hauteur, as she moved away. But he would not have it so, and claimed her attention again.