"You will hurt your hand," he said,—"those thorns on the briar are so sharp; take care!"
And Verty grasped the vine, and, no doubt, accidentally, Redbud's hand with it.
"Now I have it," he said; and suddenly seeing the double meaning of his words, the young man added, with a blush and a smile, "it is all I want in the world."
"What? the—oh!"
And Miss Redbud, suddenly aware of Mr. Verty's meaning, finds her voice rather unsafe, and her cheeks covered with blushes. But with the tact of a grown woman, she applies herself to the defeat of her knight; and, turning away, says, as easily as possible:
"Oh, yes—the thorn; it is a pretty vine; take care, or it will hurt your hand."
Verty feels astounded at his own boldness, but says, with his dreamy
Indian smile:
"Oh, no, I don't want the thorn—the rose!—the rose!"
Redbud understands that this is only a paraphrase—after the Indian fashion—for her own name, and blushes again.
"We—were—speaking of cousin Lavinia," she says, hesitatingly.