Mr. Huyton said something about happy, and turned to his cousin with a smile; but Hilary, who unconsciously watched the expression of his face, was disappointed: it was not exactly the smile she wished to see there――not like the happy, frank look she had been used so often to receive, before she learned to know its meaning. Victoria Fielding threw back a somewhat haughty head, and said, with a flashing, mocking look of her bright eyes, “Mamma flatters you! do not fancy I wanted you in the least. I disdain help. My motto is, ‘By my own hand.’” “Very well,” replied he, calmly, but with an expression of admiration in his face; indeed she was so handsome and graceful, that it was not easy to look at her without admiration. Her conversation to him was all in the same style, to Hilary she hardly spoke at all; and when Miss Duncan tried to find subjects of conversation, she seemed little inclined to reply, unless Mr. Huyton joined; whatever she might affect of indifference toward him, Hilary was convinced, was simply affectation. The wish to attract him was obvious, although shown in a taunting and defying sort of way. After about ten minutes’ conversation of this uncomfortable and disjointed kind, Charles suddenly turned to Hilary, and said―― “Have you been into the conservatory lately, Miss Duncan? I should like you to see my camellias.” Hilary feeling that any change would be a relief at that moment, answered that she should like it very much indeed; and then he asked Victoria if she would come too. “No, thank you,” replied the young lady, carelessly, “I have walked round and about it, till I am more weary of that particular spot of ground, and those especial flowers, than of any thing else on earth; except myself,” she added, in a sort of whisper. He smiled again. “Conservatories should be made like kaleidoscopes, to vary at every turn, or they grow intolerably dull,” added she aloud; “don’t you think so, Miss Duncan? Perhaps you don’t know, however; you probably have not been so often in the one in question as I have.” “Perhaps not,” said Hilary, very quietly; “but I always thought it very pretty when I did see it. However, it is many months now since I was in it.” “I can not fancy _you_ tiring of flowers,” said Charles, with more peculiarity of accent than he had used before; so much so, indeed, as to cause Victoria to raise her head, and turn a sharp look on the person thus addressed.