I did not hear their footsteps upon the soft grass, but I heard the voices of my father and his friend, Mr. Osborne, a fellow of Corpus, who visited us constantly, and always seemed in my father's confidence. They came to the green-house door and lingered there, and Mr. Osborne stood before the door, with his gown streaming and rustling behind him, effectually concealing me if I had not been concealed already. I had no reason to suppose that their talk concerned me; nor was I much interested to listen to it. I went on with my occupation, plunging some slips of favorite plants into little pots of rich vegetable mould, and singing to myself half under my breath. I was quite unsuspicious and so were they. "No," said my father, "Hester does not know of it. Hester is a girl, Osborne--I have no desire to make a woman of her before her time." "Yet girls find out for themselves what interest they have in these matters," said Mr. Osborne, in his quiet, half sarcastic tone, "and have speculations in those quiet eyes of theirs, whether we will or no, my friend." "There are few girls like Hester," said my father, proudly; "pardon me, Osborne, but you have no child--I want to preserve her as she is--why should I bring a disturbing element into our peaceful life?" "Why? do you think your little girl is safely through her probation, when she has had the measles and the hooping-cough?" said Mr. Osborne, laughing. "Nonsense, man--d'ye think ye save her from the epidemic of youth by shutting her up in this garden here? Take my word for it, these obnoxious things that you call the world and society, are much better preventives than this leisure and solitude. Why look at these windows, and be a sensible man, Southcote; d'ye think nobody in Corpus but an old fellow like me has seen your Proserpine among the flowers? How old is the child? tell me that, and I will tell you how soon there will be moonlight meditations, and breaking hearts, disturbing your peaceful life for you. Hester is a very good girl--of course, she is--but what is that to the question, I should be glad to know?" I was very indignant by this time. I had very nearly caught his streaming gown, and shaken it with vehement displeasure, but, withal, I was very curious to know what was the origin of this conversation, and I subsided into a perfect guilty silence, and listened with all my might. "You do not understand Hester, Osborne," said my father. "Granted," said his friend, quickly, "and perhaps the young lady is not quite an orthodox subject of study, I allow you; but pray what do you intend to do with her? is she to live in this garden for ever, like that fantastic boy's lady of Shalott?" My father paused and I listened eagerly. It was some time before he answered, and there was hesitation in his usually firm tones. "Life has deluded _me_," he said, slowly. "I am at a loss to know how to guard Hester, that it may not delude her also."