"I believe he discovered the wonderful secret from Maud."
"Maud and her brother Guy have grown wonderful friends since his illness. Do you not think so?"
"Yes, I found the two of them—and even Miss Silver—as merry as possible, when I came into the study this morning."
"Did you?" said the mother, with an involuntary glance at the group opposite.
There was nothing particular to observe. They all sat in most harmless quietude, Edwin reading, Maud at his feet, playing with the cat, Miss Silver busy at a piece of that delicate muslin-work with which young women then used to ornament their gowns. Guy had been drawing a pattern from it, and now leant back upon his sofa, shading off the fire with his hand, and from behind it gazing, as I had often seen him gaze lately, with a curious intentness—at the young governess.
"Guy," said his mother (and Guy started), "what were you thinking about?"
"Oh, nothing; that is—" here, by some accident, Miss Silver quitted the room. "Mother, come over here, I want your opinion. There, sit down—though it's nothing of the least importance."
Nevertheless, it was with some hesitation that he brought out the mighty question, namely, that it was Miss Silver's birthday to-day; that he thought we ought to remember it, and give her some trifle as a present.
"And I was considering this large Flora I ordered from London,—she would like it extremely: she is so fond of botany."
"What do you know about botany?" said Edwin, sharply and rather irrelevantly as it seemed, till I remembered how he plumed himself upon his knowledge of this science, and how he had persisted in taking Maud, and her governess also, long wintry walks across the country, "in order to study the cryptogamia."