Surely God's earth had never held a more lovely woman. I stood looking at her for a full minute without speaking. A rich ivory satin dress hung in simple but perfectly graceful folds about her slim, exquisite figure, and bands of wide, creamy old point lace filled in her square bodice right up to her white throat. She wore no ornaments, no flowers, save a single sprig of heliotrope nearly buried amongst the lace. Her deep blue, almost violet, eyes had lost their cold, disdainful gleam, and looked into mine kindly; but there was still the half-mocking smile playing around her slightly parted lips.
"And, pray, what right have you to come into my sanctum without knocking, sir?" she asked, with a soft laugh, which did not seem to me to speak of much anger; "and now that you are here, why do you stand staring at me like a great stupid?"
I drew a long breath, and took a step forward.
"I came to beg for a flower, and——"
"Well, there are plenty in the conservatory," she said, pointing to it. "You may help yourself."
I stood close to her, so close that the faint perfume from the morsel of lace which she was holding in her hand reached me.
"Only one flower will satisfy me," I said. "That sprig of heliotrope. May I have it?"
She laughed again, a low musical laugh, and the tinge of pink in her cheeks grew deeper.
"If nothing else will satisfy you I suppose you must."
She unfastened it from the bosom of her dress, and her little white fingers busied themselves for a moment with my buttonhole. So close was her head, with its many coils of dazzlingly fair hair, to mine, that, irresistibly tempted, I let my fingers rest upon it for a second with a caressing touch. She looked up at me with a mock frown, which her eyes contradicted.