"My dear, he has now been so used to the cage, and to have all his daily wants supplied, that I am sure he would suffer from cold and hunger at this season of the year if he were left to provide for himself, and if he remained here the cats and weasels might kill him."
"I will keep him safe from harm, then, till the warm weather comes again; and then, nurse, we will take him to the mountain, and let him go, if he likes to be free, among the trees and bushes."
It was now the middle of October; the rainy season that usually comes in the end of September and beginning of October in Canada was over. The soft hazy season, called Indian summer, was come again; the few forest leaves that yet lingered were ready to fall—bright and beautiful they still looked, but Lady Mary missed the flowers.
"I do not love the fall—I see no flowers now, except those in the greenhouse. The cold, cold winter will soon be here again," she added sadly.
"Last year, dear lady, you said you loved the white snow, and the sleighing, and the merry bells, and wished that winter would last all the year round."
"Ah! yes, nurse; but I did not know how many pretty birds and flowers I should see in the spring and the summer; and now they are all gone, and I shall see them no more for a long time."
"There are still a few flowers, Lady Mary, to be found; look at these."
"Ah, dear nurse, where did you get them? How lovely they are!"
"Your little French maid picked them for you, on the side of the mountain. Rosette loves the wild flowers of her native land."
"Nurse, do you know the names of these pretty starry flowers on this little branch, that look so light and pretty?"