"Then, if after thinking the matter over, you decide in my favor, and choose a lifetime of happiness, put white roses--nothing but white roses--there; if, on the contrary, you are inclined to follow up a life of unendurable _ennui_, put crimson flowers there. I shall understand--the white roses will mean 'Yes; I will go;' the crimson flowers will mean 'No; good-by, Claude.' You will not forget, Cynthy." "It is not likely that I shall forget," she replied. "You need not have one fear for the future; you will be happy as a queen. I shall love you so dearly; we will enjoy life as it is meant to be enjoyed. It was never intended for you to dream away your existence in one long sleep. Your beautiful face was meant to brighten and gladden men's hearts; your sweet voice to rule them. You are buried alive here." Then the great selfish love that had conquered him rose in passionate words. How he caressed her! What tender, earnest words he whispered to her! What unalterable devotion he swore--what affection, what love! The girl grew grave and silent as she listened. She wondered why she felt so quiet--why none of the rapture that lighted up his face and shone in his eyes came to her. She loved him--he said so; and surely he who had had so much experience ought to know. Yet she had imagined love to be something very different from this. She wondered that it gave her so little pleasure. "How the poets exaggerate it!" she said to herself, while he was pouring out love, passion, and tenderness in burning words. "How great they make it, and how little it is in reality." She sighed deeply as she said these words to herself, and Claude mistook the sigh. "You must not be anxious, Hyacinth. You need not be so. You are leaving a life of dull, gloomy monotony for one of happiness, such as you can hardly imagine. You will never repent it, I am sure. Now give me one smile; you look as distant and sad as Lady Vaughan herself. Smile, Cynthy!" She raised her eyes to his face, and for long years afterward that look remained with him. She tried to smile, but the beautiful lips quivered and the clear eyes fell. "I must go," she said, rising hurriedly, "Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan are to be home by eight o'clock." "You will say 'Yes,' Cynthy?" he said, clasping her hands in his own. "You will say 'Yes,' will you not?" "I must think first," she replied; and as she turned away the rush of wind through the tall green trees sounded like a long, deep-drawn sigh.