THE TEA ROSE. 49 



tending, and cherishing of that flower, awakened a thousand pleas- 

 ant trains of thought that beguiled the sameness and weariness of 

 their life. Every day the fair growing thing put forth some fresh 

 beauty; a bud — a leaf— or a new shoot, constantly excited fresh 

 delight in its possessors. As it stood in the window, the passer by 

 would sometimes stop and gaze, attracted by its beauty, and then 

 how proud and happy was Mary, nor did even the serious and care- 

 worn widow, notice with indifference when she saw the eye of a 

 chance visitor rest admiringly on their favourite. 



But httle did Florence know when she gave that gift, that there 

 was twined around it an invisible thread, that reached far as brightly 

 into the w^eb of her destiny. 



One cold afternoon in early Spring, a tall, graceful young man 

 called at the lowly room to receive and pay for some linen which 

 the widow had been making up. He was a wayfarer and stranger 

 in the place, recommended through the charity of some of Mrs. 

 Stephens' patrons. His eye, as he was going out, rested admiringly 

 upon the Rose ; he stopped and looked earnestly at it. 



" It was given to us," said httle Mary, quickly, " by a young lady 

 as sweet and beautiful as that is." 



" Ah ! " said the stranger, turning and fixing upon her a pair of 

 very bright eyes, pleased and rather struck with the simplicity of 

 the communication, " and how came she to give it to you my Kttle 

 girl?" 



" Oh, because we are poor, and mother is sick, and we never can 

 have any thing pretty. We used to have a garden once, and we 

 loved flowers so much, and Miss Florence found all this out, and so 

 she gave us this." 



" Florence ! " echoed the stranger. 



" Yes, Miss Florence I'Estrange, a beautiful young lady, — they 

 say she was from foi'eign parts, though she speaks English just like 

 any other lady, only sweeter." 



