"After the rich display of presents here," said I to Daphne, "my gift will appear but as poor in comparison. I trust you will not estimate it solely by its monetary value."
I drew forth a jewel-case I had purchased at Heidelberg. The pressure of the spring revealed a golden bracelet set with violet amethysts.
"For me?" exclaimed Daphne, and the tone of her voice gave me a delicious thrill. "Oh, how sweet! None of my gifts will give me more pleasure. Shall I wear it this—this morning?"
There was a hesitation in the enunciation of the last words that touched me more than an avowal of love on her part could have done. I nodded, and aided her to clasp the golden circlet around her slender wrist.
"I will return your gift, Frank, though in a more simple way. You have no bouquet. Let me choose you one."
There was a vase of flowers hard by. Daphne selected some snowdrops, and, placing them on a pretty fern-leaf, attached them to my breast, bending so low in the act that my lips kissed the orange-blossoms and stephanotis that gleamed in her dark hair.
"Do you know what this fern-leaf signifies?" she said.
"No; what?" I asked.
"Oblivion!" she whispered; and then, like a beautiful fairy, she glided from the room. I understood her.
"Oblivion!" I muttered. "Well, yes; fern-leaf may signify that, but you have forgotten that the snowdrop is the emblem of hope."