“Come to the conservatory in an hour, and I’ll show you the best part of a ‘German,’” he said, with a nod and a smile, as he went away, beginning to whistle like a boy when the door was shut behind him. “What did he mean?” thought Christie, as she helped clear the table, and put every thing in Pimlico order. She was curious to know, and when Mrs. Sterling said: “Now, my dear, I am going to take my nap, and thee can help David if thee likes,” she was quite ready to try the new work. She would have been more than woman if she had not first slipped upstairs to smooth her hair, put on a fresh collar, and a black silk apron with certain effective frills and pockets, while a scarlet rigolette replaced the hood, and lent a little color to her pale cheeks. “I am a poor ghost of what I was,” she thought; “but that’s no matter: few can be pretty, any one can be neat, and that is more than ever necessary here.” Then she went away to the conservatory, feeling rather oppressed with the pity and sympathy, for which there was no call, and fervently wishing that David would not be so comfortable, for he ate a hearty dinner, laughed four times, and whistled as no heart-broken man would dream of doing. No one was visible as she went in, and walking slowly down the green aisle, she gave herself up to the enjoyment of the lovely place. The damp, sweet air made summer there, and a group of slender, oriental trees whispered in the breath of wind that blew in from an open sash. Strange vines and flowers hung overhead; banks of azaleas, ruddy, white, and purple, bloomed in one place; roses of every hue turned their lovely faces to the sun; ranks of delicate ferns, and heaths with their waxen bells, were close by; glowing geraniums and stately lilies side by side; savage-looking scarlet flowers with purple hearts, or orange spikes rising from leaves mottled with strange colors; dusky passion-flowers, and gay nasturtiums climbing to the roof. All manner of beautiful and curious plants were there; and Christie walked among them, as happy as a child who finds its playmates again. Coming to a bed of pansies she sat down on a rustic chair, and, leaning forward, feasted her eyes on these her favorites. Her face grew young as she looked, her hands touched them with a lingering tenderness as if to her they were half human, and her own eyes were so busy enjoying the gold and purple spread before her, that she did not see another pair peering at her over an unneighborly old cactus, all prickles, and queer knobs. Presently a voice said at her elbow: “You look as if you saw something beside pansies there.” David spoke so quietly that it did not startle her, and she answered before she had time to feel ashamed of her fancy.