The eyes of Wynslade were involuntarily directed to Selina. "You are right," resumed Robertson. "That is the very lady, Miss Selina Mansel." "Can it be possible!" exclaimed Wynslade. "Is this the lady that blushes at you? Did _she_ give you the flower?" "Yes, she did," replied Robertson. "A true bill, I assure you. The flower was her gift, and she has just presented me with a piece of poetry that is still more pointed. And yet, between ourselves, I think it strange that so young a lady should not have had patience to wait for a declaration on my part. I wonder that she should be the first to break the ice. However, I suppose it is only a stronger evidence of her partiality." "And what are you going to do?" asked Wynslade. "Oh! I shall take her," answered Robertson. "At least I think I shall. To be sure, I have been so short a time in Somerford, that I have scarcely yet had an opportunity of ascertaining the state of the market. But, besides her being an only child, with a father that is likely to come down handsomely, she is very young and very pretty, and will in every respect suit me exactly. However, I shall proceed with due circumspection. It is bad policy to be too alert on these occasions. It will be most prudent to keep her in suspense awhile." "Insufferable coxcomb!" thought Wynslade. However, he checked his contempt and indignation so far as to say with tolerable calmness--"Mr. Robertson, there must be certainly some mistake. Before I went to India, I knew something of Miss Mansel and her family, and I reproach myself for not having sought to renew my acquaintance with them immediately on my return. She was a mere child when I last saw her before my departure. Still, I know from the manner in which she has been brought up, that it is utterly impossible she should have given you any real cause to suspect her of a partiality, which, after all, you seem incapable of appreciating." "Suspect!" exclaimed Robertson, warmly; "suspect, indeed! Blushes and confusion you acknowledge to be certain signs. And then there is the flower--and then--" "Where is the piece of poetry you talked of?" said Wynslade. "Here," replied Robertson, showing him the motto--"here it is--read--and confess it to be proof positive." Wynslade took the slip, and read on it-- "To gain a look of your sweet face, I'd walk three times round the market-place." "Ridiculous!" he exclaimed, as he returned the couplet to Robertson, the course of his ideas changing in a moment. The whole affair now appeared to him in so ludicrous a light that he erroneously imagined Selina to have been all the time diverting herself at Mr. Robertson's expense. He looked towards her with a smile of intelligence, and was surprised to find that she had set down her almost untasted ice-cream, and was changing colour, from red to pale, evidently overwhelmed with confusion.