"You may come, then, on one other condition. I would like you to draw for me a young pear-tree, and an old gentleman sitting under it."
"I will agree to any conditions," he said, springing in by her side. "Is it the tree that bore the pear you gave me? I hope you don't think I was capable of eating that pear."
"Did you throw it away?" she asked, with a shy glance.
"Miss Mayhew, I've something I wish you to see," and he took out his note-book and showed her the rose-bud he had tossed away. "Do you recognize that?"
In spite of herself the blood rushed tumultuously into her face.
"I thought that was trampled into dust long ago," she said in a low tone.
"I shall never forget your words as you left me that evening, Miss
Mayhew. It was the severest and most deserved rebuke I ever had.
I picked up the bud immediately, I assure you."
"I thought you left it there," she said, in a still lower tone, and then added hastily: "But I have no doubt you acted from a sense of duty."
"I can't say that I did," he answered, dryly.
"Will you please give it to me?"