"Yes; I should like to see your improvements in the garden."
"And how your sister's roots have prospered in my charge," added she, as she opened the gate.
And we sauntered through the garden, and talked of the flowers, the trees, and the book,—and then of other things. The evening was kind and genial, and so was my companion. By degrees, I waxed more warm and tender than, perhaps, I had ever been before; but still, I said nothing tangible, and she attempted no repulse; until, in passing a moss rose-tree that I had brought her some weeks since, in my sister's name, she plucked a beautiful half open bud and bade me give it to Rose.
"May I not keep it myself?" I asked.
"No; but here is another for you."
Instead of taking it quietly, I likewise took the hand that offered it, and looked into her face. She let me hold it for a moment, and I saw a flash of extatic brilliance in her eye, a
