“No. Are you indulging in orchids, Lillian?” “Yes; I am wild over them. Uncle Will gave me several varieties on my last birthday, and they are just doing their best for me now. Come into the conservatory and let me show them to you.” “All right. I have a fancy for the pretty things, too,” replied the young man as he followed the fair girl toward the hot-house, and thinking, as he did so, how lovely and graceful the girl was in her perfectly fitting morning robe of garnet cashmere trimmed with swansdown, and which harmonized delightfully with her brilliant complexion. She took him to a sunny corner of the conservatory which Sir William had set apart and fitted up expressly to gratify this extravagant whim of his pretty niece, and where the young lady had really displayed much taste and appreciation of the rare things in which she was interested, both as to choice and arrangement. They spent half an hour or more in examining the beautiful things, and Rupert became almost as enthusiastic as Lillian herself over them. But she had no notion of allowing even her favorite flowers to monopolize all his attention. She had had a far more important object in view in bringing him there with her. “So you are really determined on taking this American trip, Rupert?” she remarked, as they paused before a lovely arethusa in full bloom, from which she broke its fairest blossom, and, bending forward, fastened it to the lapel of his coat. “Oh, Lillian, what a pity to break the pretty thing!” he said, regretfully. “Not for you,” she answered, looking up at him with a smile, and flushing as she met those frank brown eyes that were regarding her with unmistakable admiration. “You would be welcome to more if you wished.” “You are very generous,” he returned, regarding the flower thoughtfully, and wondering what made her blush so when with him. “But about my trip. Yes, I have decided that I will go.” “When?” “I sail just a week from to-day. I wrote yesterday to engage my passage.” “So soon?” Lillian cried, catching her breath, and losing all her brilliant color. “Yes; if I am to join that excursion to the Pacific coast on the 12th of next month, I must be off.” “The house will seem like a convent when you are gone; you are the life and soul of everything here,” said the girl, tears starting to her eyes. “Thank you; I had no idea that I was of so much importance,” he returned, lightly. “Didn’t you?” she asked, sweeping him a coy look from beneath her long, dark lashes. “You have something to learn yet, then. But how long will you be away? Surely not six months, as Uncle Will said this morning.” “Yes, I think so. I do not wish to hurry, and I mean to get a pretty thorough idea of what the United States are like. I think I shall be away until July or August.” “Oh, Rupert, don’t! It will be too lonely and wretched for anything without you!” Lillian burst forth, impetuously, and in an agitated voice.