Gurth thought it was the sweetest smile he had ever seen in his life. He forgot the child, forgot the flowers, and gazed in rapt admiration at the beautiful face before him.
A strange thrill went through him as he looked—a feeling of ecstasy, such as that which comes over some natures when, in world-famed galleries, they stand for the first time in the presence of some matchless work of art.
The young lady was too busy with her flowers and her change to notice Gurth’s undisguised admiration. He almost started as she dropped the shillings into his hand, counting them one by one.
He took the violets which the child had given him, and held them in his hand.
Then he glanced at some which the lady had on her stall in front of her.
‘I think I must buy one of you, after giving you so much trouble,’ he said gently.
The lady picked up a bunch of violets and handed them to him with a smile.
He dropped the nineteen shillings change into the hands of the beautiful flower-girl, and, raising his hat, walked away.
As he did so, he heard the little girl cry out:
‘Oh, Miss Adrian, the gentleman’s left my violets behind him!’