"Don't, Alec, it breaks my heart to hear you sigh like that, and I am trying so hard to keep up."
"I sigh that I am forbidden to take you in my arms," he said, gravely, as their fingers meet in arranging the flowers.
"But, you know, I am acting for the best."
"Do you allow him?" he said, with a steadfast look.
"Never, when I can prevent it."
"These flowers remind me of an incident I have often thought to tell you, Elaine. Do you remember one time, about a year and a half ago, going to make a call upon some people who were transient guests at the Walker House? they had left town; and while you waited, while this fact was being ascertained, a wee lady, an invalid, was carried in by an attendant, and placed on a sofa; she was emaciated and fair complexioned. On your leaving the parlor you asked her to accept a bouquet you carried; it was composed almost entirely of roses. Passionately fond of flowers, she was very pleased, telling you so; do you remember? but your face tells me you do. That poor little lady was she whom you had frequently met in the street with me, before she became too weak to walk; that was my poor little wife."
"And I met you as I was entering the hotel," she said, softly.
"Yes; I was going to Brown's livery stables for a cab; I generally went myself, instead of using the telephone, as Jessie thought I got an easier one."
"Poor little creature; I did not recognize her, because meeting her with you, she had always been veiled. I remember how pleased she was with the flowers; my kind friend, Mrs. Tremaine, had given them to me to brighten my room; I could not afford such luxuries then," she said, sadly. "Your wee wife had a sweet little face, and I frequently thought of her again. Meeting the manager, Mr. Wright, one day, I asked him about her, when he said 'she and her husband had left town.' It was all very sad for you, Alec."
"It was, she told me, a winsome lady, bonnie, and so strong-looking, had given them to her, and from her description, I knew it must be you. I endeavored, even then, to ascertain your name, but failed," he said, gravely, holding her hands among the roses for a moment in his own; when Miss Crew entered, with her work-basket, followed by the Dales, Mr. Dale carrying some open letters, with newspapers, which he placed carefully on a table beside him, as he shook hands with Mr. Blair.