"Are they bridal flowers, Jessie Lee?"
"She has taken off the wreath," I whispered.
"No, no; it is there on her forehead. Who gave it to her?"
"She has thrown it aside," I protested; "she would not wear it a moment after she knew it pained you. It is gone now."
He looked earnestly at the place where he thought Jessie stood, and fell back on his pillows with a sigh of satisfaction.
"Kind Jessie," he said, "kind Jessie!"
But that quiet only lasted for a few moments. He grew more restless than before; and I saw old Mrs. Bosworth looking at me still, as if she had fully made up her mind that I could compose him, and nothing less than that desirable effect would satisfy her. Really, with those old-world eyes fastened upon me, I could not avoid exerting all my powers, although in my heart I fairly wished the fidgety little mother safe in her own room.