"But thou art not old, thou art very young, my lord; and perhaps it is thy lack of experience which makes thee think so," answered the Princess, modestly hanging her head and seeking to hide her face. A deep shadow passed over his countenance, and his heart bled at the thought of the pain that his trick would cause the maiden by his side. Of the everlasting wound it would inflict on him he dared not think. "And thou hast lived here all thy life?" he asked, desirous of changing the subject. "All my life," she answered. [Illustration] "And art thou quite happy?" "Good sir, I thought I was; I never wished to change my lot until to-day." "Ah! I have heard of thy dislike of the many suitors who sought thy hand." "Not my dislike, but my indifference. I did not believe in Love. Though it was all around me in Nature, still I had never known it; and there was something so imperfect, so earthly, in the great princes who wished to marry me. Until to-day I was blindly ignorant." "Until to-day!" reiterated the Prince, gazing at her with eyes indescribably tender and yearning. "But since thou hast asked my father for my hand, and he hath given his consent, I may tell thee all I feel, may I not?" "Ah, sweet Princess! I know all that thou dost feel; I feel all that thou wouldst say." Then they were silent for some time. The moon shone, and the floor of heaven was studded with silver stars. The flowers were asleep, excepting the Evening Primrose. Myra saw her in the arms of Night, and heard their gentle voices. She thought of the Rose-Mallow, and pondered with new-born sympathy on the Violet's pain. "Dear one, we must part now," said the Prince, as they paused before the palace gates. "But ere thou goest, tell me, wouldst thou be very unhappy if I never came to thee again?" A cold fear entered the Princess's heart. "My dear lord," she said, "I was only born to-day. My past was not life, therefore I am as a little child, and cannot answer thee with wisdom; but inquire of the flowers, whether they would be sad should the sun rise no more. Ah! would they not perish? Would not the world lie down and die from cold? Then, good my lord, and thou lovest me, ask me not so cruel a question." "It is fate," he murmured, as he held her in his arms and soothed away her pain with tender words. The Princess awoke the next morning to find the Queen seated beside her bed. Myra was too much in love to notice things which would have impressed her under ordinary circumstances, else she would have thought her royal mother's manner unnecessarily excitable, and would have wondered what secret trouble had suddenly so changed the stately Queen's appearance. "My child, thy lover waits for thee in thy workroom, therefore rise and robe thee. But before thou goest to him I want thee to refuse the gift with which he will present thee. I am sure it will bring thee ill-luck."