"You are to wear all these heaths this evening, you know," he said selecting the heaths from the nosegay. "I will make a wreath for you." "But how very smart I shall be," said Margaret, hesitatingly. "Oh! you promised--you will not draw back; see this is the way I shall mix them. All the shades, from white to crimson--no, a cluster will be prettier than a wreath. You cannot refuse--your last day. Ah! how beautiful you will look--but that you always do. Come, you will promise to wear them?" "Will you promise to talk something like sense then Mr. Hubert?" said Margaret archly. "These striped camellias are for you, Harriet." "Thanks, little one," said Harriet. "Tell Hubert to keep them all in water for us till we go up to dress." Mr. Gage, by this time, having noticed Blanche's childish, sparkling face, and pretty figure, condescended to say to her in a haughty tone, "Did you walk here?" "To be sure!" said Blanche, "such a beautiful morning. I would not have had the carriage out on any account." There was one slight drawback to her using a carriage, if she wished it; namely, that she did not possess a vehicle of any description. But Mr. Gage who was very little at home, and who knew nothing of the concerns of his neighbours, was easily imposed upon. "Yes," he said rather less haughtily, "It was hardly worth while for a short distance." "And then I am such a walker!" said Blanche, her pretty face kindling and dimpling with smiles; "I am never tired of wandering about this lovely country. I told mamma positively that I never would pass a season in town. My sister is there now with our relation, Lady K----, in the midst of balls and gaieties. But I should think them a very poor exchange for the Ashdale woods." Had Mr. Gage possessed more than the usual amount of penetration, he could not have been expected to guess that Blanche was in a perpetual ill-humour, because her sister was in town this season instead of herself; he merely thought it was odd for so pretty a girl to be contented with retirement, and that there was something rather attractive in the novelty of it. "I suppose your tastes are quite pastoral," said Mr. Gage, relaxing still more of his dignity. "I dare say, if the truth were told, you have a pet lamb, which you crown with flowers every morning before breakfast." "Oh, Mr. Gage!" said Blanche shaking her head with a little air of reproach, "the days are gone by when country people were obliged to depend on such childish amusements. We can have new books and music now, almost as soon as they appear in town. Indeed, we can bring everything from London, but its smoky atmosphere." Harriet who had been watching Hubert arranging the flowers in a glass, now turned round and beheld Mr. Gage actually talking to Blanche Somerton,--bending down and smiling at her. She coloured with anger and contempt. "Mr. Gage," said she, pointing to a work-box close to him, "shall I trouble you to give me that box?"