FLORAL CONVERSATION. 
52 
he looked at the roses in ]ier waving golden hair) \ “would 
you change them for these ’ ’ (and he touqhed one of the 
orange-flowers)—“for my sake—for me?” 
I shall never forget that beseeching voice. It thrilled 
me through with the anxiety which it expressed, and I 
leaned forward to he a^ the answer: “ I—I—I believe 
that I am engaged to the viscount.” Then for a few 
awful seconds there might have been in that conserva¬ 
tory no living soul, for there was no sound save of dis¬ 
tant music, faintly heard from the ball. At last he 
spoke with a great effort: “I have no right to ask you-, 
but do you lbve liim?” and she, in a tone which cut 
my heart like a knife, replied, “My father, the duke, 
wishes me to ntarryhim.” “Not,” he said passionately, 
“if you do not love him!” and then there was another 
dreadful silence, broken by these hopeless, whispered 
words, “I cannot, I dare not, disobey the duke. Some 
one is coming ; we must go.” , 
I do not think that the guardsman knew quite what 
he was doing, but what he aid do was this: he pluck¬ 
ed a leaf from the orange tree, 'and gave it to her, and 
said, “If ever there is hope for .me, or I can help you, 
san,d me this leaf.” 
