"Not here, dear. There are some in the parks; some even in the middle of the city itself. You will miss your trees, Una." "Yes, I shall miss my trees. But this--this world seems so large; I thought that----" "Well," said Mrs. Davenant, amused with her bewilderment. "I thought that people in the world knew each other; but that is impossible." And she sighed, as she thought that, after all, now that she was in the world, she was no nearer that one being who, for her, was the principal person in it. "Very few people know each other, Una. It's a big world, this London. I wonder whether you will be happy?" Una turned to her with a look upon her face that would have melted a sterner heart than Mrs. Davenant's. "I shall be happy, if you will love me," she said. Something in the frank, simple reply made Mrs. Davenant tremble. What had she undertaken in the charge of this simple, pure-natured girl, whose beauty caused people to turn and stare at her, and whose innocence was that of a child? Through miles and miles of streets, as it seemed to Una, the cab made its slow, rumbling way; houses, that were palaces in her eyes, flitted past; and at last they stopped before a palace, as it seemed to Una, in a quiet square. The door of the house opened, and a servant came out and opened the cab door. In silent wonderment Una entered the hall, lit with its gas-lamps and lined with flowers, and followed Mrs. Davenant into what was really the drawing-room of a house in Walmington Square; but which seemed to Una to be the principal apartment in some enchanted castle. But true to her resolve, she stood calm and silent, feeling, rather than seeing, that the eyes of the servant were fixed upon her with curious interest. "Come upstairs, Una, dear," said Mrs. Davenant, and Una followed her into another fairy chamber. Flowers, of which Mrs. Davenant, like most nervous persons, was inordinately fond, seemed everywhere: they lined the staircase and the landing, and bloomed in every available corner. Mrs. Davenant entered her own room, then opened a door into an adjoining one. "This is your room, my dear," she said. "If--if--you like it----" "Like it!" said Una, with open eyes and beating heart. "Is--is this really mine?" and she looked round the dainty room with incredulous admiration. "If--if you like it, my dear," said Mrs. Davenant. "How could I do otherwise? It is too beautiful for me----" "I don't think anything could be too beautiful for you, Una," said Mrs. Davenant, with a significance that was entirely lost on Una. "If there is anything you want--I can't give you any trees, you know." "I shan't want trees while the flowers are here. It is nothing but flowers." "I am very fond of them," said Mrs. Davenant, meekly. "You will hear a bell ring in half an hour; come to me then, I shall wait in the next room for you. I will not lock the door," and she left her.