72 
THE BOUQUET. 
dawn of morning. They hung suspended between five dark green 
leaves in the fulness of youthful beauty. Their color was red, like 
the reflection of the rising Sun in the delicate tinge of Emily’s 
cheek. A balmy fragrance surrounded the flower. It was a serene 
March morning. Emily had never conceived such magnificence. 
Her joy was noiseless and without words. She kneeled before the 
flower and viewed it in silence. At this moment her father entered 
and looked at his beloved child and the blooming Hyacinth, and his 
heart was touched with emotion. “ Behold ” said he, “ what the 
Hyacinth is to you, you are to us, Emily! ” 
Then the maiden sprang up and clasped her father in her arms, 
and after a long embrace, she whispered, “ Oh, my father may I also 
bloom as beautifully as this flower.” 
