“Well, Ernest,” said Miss Ceswick, “you two are taking leave of each other as solemnly as though you were never going to meet again.” “Perhaps they never will,” said Florence, in her clear voice; and at that moment Ernest felt as though he hated her. “You should not croak, Florence; it is unlucky,” said Miss Ceswick. Florence smiled. Then Ernest dropped the cold hand, and turning, left the room. Florence followed him, and, snatching a hat from the pegs, passed into the garden before him. When he was half-way down the garden-walk, he found her ostensibly picking some carnations. “I want to speak to you for a minute, Ernest,” she said; “turn this way with me;” and she led him past the bow-window, down a small shrubbery-walk about twenty paces long. “I must offer you my congratulations,” she went on. “I hope that you two will be happy. Such a handsome pair ought to be happy, you know.” “Why, Florence, who told you?” “Told me! nobody told me. I have seen it all along. Let me see, you first took a fancy to one another on the night of the Smythes’ dance, when she gave you a rose, and the next day you saved her life quite in the romantic and orthodox way. Well, and then events took their natural course, till one evening you went out sailing together in a boat. Shall I go on?” “I don’t think it is necessary, Florence, I am sure I don’t know how you know all these things.” She had stopped, and was standing slowly picking a carnation to pieces leaf by leaf. “Don’t you?” she answered, with a laugh. “Lovers are blind; but it does not follow that other people are. I have been thinking, Ernest, that it is very fortunate that I found out my little mistake before you discovered yours. Supposing I really had cared for you, the position would have been awkward now, would it not?” Ernest was forced to admit that it would. “But luckily, you see, I do not. I am only your true friend now, Ernest; and it is as a friend that I wish to say a word to you about Eva—a word of warning.” “Go on.” “You love Eva, and Eva loves you, Ernest; but remember this, she is weak as water. She always was so from a child; those beautiful women often are; Nature does not give them everything, you see.” “What do you mean?” “What I say, nothing more. She is very weak; and you must not be surprised if she throws you over.” “Good heavens, Florence! Why, she loves me with all her heart!” “Yes; but women often think of other things besides their hearts. But there, I don’t want to frighten you, only I would not pin all my faith to Eva’s constancy, however dearly you may think she loves you. Don’t look so distressed, Ernest; I did not wish to pain you. And remember that if any difficulty should arise between Eva and you, you will always have me on your side. You will always think of me as your true friend, won’t you, Ernest?” and she held out her hand. He took it. “Indeed I will,” he said.