She started. “Of Clara’s flowers! Who has been to visit her lonely grave? Who, papa?”
“No, one, my love; I gathered those seeds the day we left the island; but I did not mention it to you, because I thought I had lost them, and that they had dropped from my pocket-book. This morning I found that this paper had fallen within another, and that the seeds were still there; there are only seven of them, but I don’t think there ever were more, for I remember I had difficulty in finding even these.”
Leila gazed at them earnestly. “I also tried to find seeds that day, and could get none—how interesting they will be to me. I will plant them instantly, and when they spring up, I will have some of Clara’s flower to give to her mamma.”
“But, my dear Leila,” Mr. Howard said, “had you not better wait till spring? I fear this is not a good time to sow flower-seeds;” but seeing her look of distress, he added,—“at least, it would be more prudent to sow only part now, and the others in spring, this will give you the best chance of securing some of the plants.”
“Well, papa, I will do that, and three I think will be prudent;” and selecting three of the seeds, she folded them into another paper. “You had better keep these, papa, that I may not be tempted; and I will go now to the gardener—he is very good-natured—he will give me a flower-pot and the proper earth, and I will plant them this moment and put them into the conservatory. In the conservatory it will be the same for them as in the island, for it is always so warm there; so you see, papa, I am very prudent about them, for I did not mean to put them out in the cold. Every day I shall watch for their coming up. You could not have given me any thing, papa, so very interesting to me—I will come back and tell you when they are planted;” and she darted off.
CHAPTER VII.
OLD David, who had been many years at Woodlands, was indeed very good-natured, and from the day when Leila had evinced so much anxiety to have poor Peggy’s garden put in nice order, had taken quite a fancy to his young mistress. He stood over her while she sprinkled the earth gently upon the seeds, having given her a flower-pot of the proper size to put them in, and he seemed much interested as to their coming up, but could give no positive opinion when that event might take place. “Some very small seeds,” he remarked, “came up very quickly, while others of equal size required to lie in the ground a long time; he would not despair,” he said, “though they did not make their appearance for a month; besides, who could tell what might be the nature of flower-seeds from that outlandish country,” for Leila had told him they came from the island, though he had no idea of the other circumstances which made them so precious in her
eyes. The residence of the squire on a desert island had for some time past been a favourite subject of discussion both in David’s cottage and at the lodge, and the wonderful histories related by Nurse had been listened to with the most profound attention and astonishment, and had served to throw a sort of romantic interest around both Mr. Howard and his child. Old David had remarked, “that it was easy to see their young mistress was something by common, something sae gleesome, and springing about her as if her foot had been used to the hill-side and the heather brae. She remembered him muckle of the highland lassies of his own dear country; for though he had been long enough in England to have forgotten his Scotch tongue, (and the more the pity,) yet he had not been long enough to forget their ways, and he was still a highlander in his heart, every inch of him.”
But to return to Leila. She had just completed sowing the precious seeds when Alfred ran into the conservatory.