Ever and anon her eyes wandered wistfully over the sea of faces before her, as if in search of some one.
All at once they rested upon a familiar face and form. She gave a slight start, her countenance lighted for an instant, then she gave utterance to a sigh of disappointment, although a little smile curved her lips and she bowed in a friendly way to some one in the audience.
She had seen Everet Mapleson, and at the first glance had thought he was Geoffrey, but catching his eager look of recognition, she realized her mistake, and felt almost angry with him for being there, while she feared that Geoffrey would not come at all.
She did not catch sight of her lover until just a moment before she was called up to deliver the farewell address to class and faculty.
Geoffrey saw that she was anxiously looking for him, and shifting his position he leaned forward and fixed a fond, magnetic look upon her.
She seemed to feel it, and turning her glance in that direction, their eyes met; a rosy flood swept up to her brow, a brilliant smile wreathed her lips with one glad look of welcome, and the next moment she was standing before the audience, her whole being thrilling with delight, and with the determination to do her best for Geoffrey’s sake.
And she did; her effort was the crowning achievement of the day. The rapt and breathless attention of the hundreds before her testified to that, and when she concluded a perfect storm of applause showed their appreciation and how completely she had swayed them by her eloquence.
More than this, numerous floral tributes were borne forward and laid at her feet. These she acknowledged with blush, and smile, and bow; but when at the very last an exquisite bouquet of lilies of the valley followed the more pretentious offerings, she eagerly stretched forth her white-gloved hand and took it from the bearer.
They were her favorite flowers, and she knew that Geoffrey had sent them, even without the evidence of the tiny note that lay twisted in their midst and concealed from every eye but hers.
Everet Mapleson’s card was attached to an elaborate basket of japonicas, roses, and heliotrope. Mr. Huntress had sent up a harp of pansies and smilax, and two or three of Gladys’ admiring classmates had contributed lovely bouquets, but her little bunch of lilies, tied with snow-white ribbon, was prized above them all.