“Was ever anything so fortunate!” she cried, hugging her niece enthusiastically. “My darling Pansy, I congratulate you with all my heart. He shall be quite at home here and the course of true love run smooth from this on, if I can make it do so.” Then Mary was directed to go down and show the young gentleman to a room where he could attend to the duties of the toilet, the Madame remarking: “One always feels like washing and brushing after tramping round all day in the heat and dust. And, Pansy, you must make him understand that we consider him just one of ourselves. The tea-table is already set in my boudoir; another plate shall be added, and we will all sup there together. Now run away and make yourself fine.” “Neat and ladylike, but not too fine, auntie,” Ethel responded, bending down to her with a smiling face, her cheeks glowing, her eyes dancing with health and happiness. “For a reason I have, I want him not to know or suspect how rich we are, so please help on my innocent deception.” “Very well, it is all one to me what he thinks about that,” the Madame answered good-naturedly, and Ethel tripped away to make the necessary changes in her attire. In common with other sensible people, she dressed very simply and inexpensively for a day at the Centennial. Her toilet for the evening was charmingly becoming, and suited to Espy’s artist taste, yet but little more elaborate or costly than the other. Espy was much struck by the Madame’s appearance, so different from that of her fair niece--her unwieldy figure, enormous size, swarthy features, ungainly movements, and asthmatic breathing; but she was very gracious to him, an excellent foil to Ethel’s beauty, and so kindly considerate as to leave them to themselves for the evening directly tea was over. CHAPTER XXXVII. LOVE’S POSY. “Such is the posy love composes-- A stinging nettle mix’d with roses.”--BROWN. Two or three as blissful weeks as perhaps mortals ever know passed over the heads of our lovers. They were almost constantly together, alone in the crowd, for they haunted the Centennial daily, and Madame Le Conte, showing herself as considerate as at first, either remained at home or quickly dismissed them from attendance upon her, declaring that she wanted Mary, and Mary only, to walk beside her rolling chair, and help her to see the sights. Espy’s pictures were much admired, spoken of with marked favor by the critics, and he had several good offers for them, but would not sell. In this happy state of affairs, and with his Floy by his side, he was in the seventh heaven. But all things earthly must have an end, and so it was with this season of almost unalloyed felicity to Ethel and Espy.