Everything seemed in order. Cora, the mulatto girl, was busily arranging the dress her mistress had just taken off. Ear-rings and a brooch of blue lava were lying on the toilet, and the pretty cap, with its streamers of black velvet and azure ribbon, hung upon one of the supports of the dressing-table, as she had left them. I looked for the basket of mossrose-buds, but it was gone; some buds were opening in one of the toilet-glasses, but that was all. Why had the widow Dennison taken such pains to put the basket out of sight? "What have you done with the basket?" I inquired very quietly of the girl. "If you wet the moss again, we can fill it with fresh flowers." "What basket, Miss?" inquired the girl, lifting her black eyes innocently to my face. "The basket you brought in here last evening." "Oh, that!" she continued, dropping her eyes; "I've made so many of them things that mistress doesn't seem to care for 'em any more." "You--you make them?" "Yes, indeed! Is there any harm, Miss?" she said, lifting her eyes again, with a look of genuine earnestness. "And you arranged those buds in the moss?" "Yes, indeed!" "And placed the half peach among them?" "Was there any harm, Miss?" "The half peach--after an Oriental fashion?" "Dear me! I hope there wasn't any harm in the gardener's letting me have that one. It was the first I had seen this year, so I couldn't give up more than I did; but it was the biggest half that I saved for the mistress." Nothing could be more natural than her dawning contrition, nothing more satisfactory than the solution she had given to a subject that had kept me awake half the night. What a fool I had been! Was I, in fact, becoming fanciful and old-maidish--ready to find error in shadows, and crimes in everything? Heaven forbid that anything so unwomanly and indelicate as this should come upon me. Was it possible that I, in the waning freshness of my life, had begun to envy brighter and handsomer women the homage due to their attraction, and had thus become suspicious? The very idea humiliated me; I felt abashed before that mulatto girl, who sat so demurely smoothing the folds of her mistress's breakfast-dress across her lap. It seemed as if she must have some knowledge of the mean suspicion that had brought me there. How artful and indirect my conduct had been! In my heart I had rather plumed myself on the adroit way in which my questions had been put regarding that annoying basket. Now, I was heartily ashamed of it all, and stole out of the room bitterly discomfited. In shutting the door, I glanced back; the girl was looking up from her work. The demure expression had left her face, the black eyes flashed and danced as they followed me; but the moment my look met hers, all this passed away so completely, that my very senses were confused, and the doubts that I had put aside came crowding back upon me.