“You should give me my violets back again, for they are quite put to shame by these grand specimens of floriculture. They did very well at the Vicarage, but here they seem out of place, and it would be a charity to hide them in their native obscurity again.” “Then they are exactly like their wearer,” replied she, blushing a little, and smiling at the same time, “and sympathy forbids my throwing them away.” “I had no intention of doing that,” was his answer; “the modest beauty and fragrance which may be eclipsed amid a crowd of gayer forms and brighter colors, are too dear to me, to be in danger of neglect. Should you consider it throwing them away then, to return them to me?” Hilary hesitated. “I do not wish to part with them,” said she; and then afraid lest he should consider her refusal to do so, as the result of a regard for the donor, she added, “I love real English-grown violets better than the rarest exotics.” “At least, do not throw them away yourself,” said he, earnestly; “give them to me when faded and withered; they will still be sweet.” Hilary was conscious that she had no intention whatever of throwing them away; but she did not wish to tell him so; she colored very much, and did not answer. “Then you will not bestow on me even a faded bouquet?” said he, looking at her with smiling eyes, and not seeming much distressed at her conscious hesitation. “If I give you two or three flowers now, will you leave me the rest in peace?” said she, playfully; “but I must say, I think it ungenerous to wish to take back from me what you bestowed unasked, unless you saw me neglecting or undervaluing the gift.” “Unsolicited gifts are sometimes not much prized,” replied he, softly; “might I flatter myself that you fixed any value to _all_ I have bestowed on you――” “Miss Duncan,” said Mr. Huyton, advancing to the corner where the little group stood, forming two distinct pairs, each too much engrossed to be conscious of aught beyond them, “Victoria has sent me to conduct you to her; I am not to return without you, on any account.” He offered his arm to Hilary, who started and colored exceedingly at the sudden interruption to a sentence, which from its tone and manner, she was particularly anxious to hear completed. Mr. Huyton looked inquiringly at her companion, and then rousing Maurice from the whispered conversation with Dora, which had quite engrossed him, desired to be presented to his friend. Hilary’s hand was under his arm, as he made polite speeches to Captain Hepburn, and he looked so very much as if he thought she belonged to him, that the other could not forbear noticing it; and a doubt shot through his mind, whether the conjectures of Maurice relative to his engagement to Miss Fielding, could have the slightest foundation.