BERTHA. 37 



" It is all gone from me ;" was her reply, " I scarcely 

 ever enter the conservatory, and the perfume of flowers 

 produces faintness, and even spasmodic attacks of pain 

 and nervous debility. I believe I have been a sort of floral 

 epicure, and have cloyed my appetite forever with a surfeit of 

 my favorite food. Once I could live on flowers, and now I turn 

 with loathing from their sweetness." 



" Strange that so simple and natural a taste should lead to 

 such a result !" 



" It has taught me that even the purest affections of our 

 nature may be sinful in excess, and that even the simplest 

 pleasures may be bought too dearly." Her eyes filled, as she 

 spoke, and she was silent for a moment. I stepped out upon the 

 verandah and she followed me. "Look at this honeysuckle," said 

 she, pointing to one which entwined a column beside us, " it is a 

 wild flower, brought from beyond that distant hill. It has little 

 beauty, and yet it is dearer to me than all the rare treasures of 

 nature which have been gathered in that lofty conservatory. 

 I believe that, at one period of my life, I was under the influence 

 of lunacy; the ' Moon of Flowers,' to use the beautiful Indian 

 fancy, must have had full power over me. But I am quite cured 

 now," she added, and a sigh followed the words as she changed 

 the subject of conversation. 



Poor Bertha ! she had awakened too late to the knowledge of 

 her soul's true exigencies. She had led so thoughtless a life 

 in girlhood, that she knew not her own capacity for happiness 



