THE CAPTIVE LADY-BIRD. 137 



which he had seen depart, successively, the two who had made 

 life dear : he stood alone in the room alone in the hard mock- 

 ing world. On the table under the glass -just where it had 

 been placed to please the innocent eyes which would never 

 again reward with a smile his labours of love lay the white 

 rose he had gathered on the morning before his little one died. 

 For lack of water the flower had withered even before her 

 cheek was cold, and now the lapse of a week had turned it 

 brown and shrivelled. But though there was no life within 

 the rose, there was life about it near it. The captive Lady- 

 bird still survived ; and as if shrinking from contact with the 

 vegetable death, was traversing uneasily the sides of the tumbler. 

 And this was the reason why our old gentleman kept in 

 a glass case white roses and red Lady-birds. 



