But she had no notion of allowing even her favorite flowers to monopolize all his attention. She had had a far more important object in view in bringing him there with her.
“So you are really determined on taking this American trip, Rupert?” she remarked, as they paused before a lovely arethusa in full bloom, from which she broke its fairest blossom, and, bending forward, fastened it to the lapel of his coat.
“Oh, Lillian, what a pity to break the pretty thing!” he said, regretfully.
“Not for you,” she answered, looking up at him with a smile, and flushing as she met those frank brown eyes that were regarding her with unmistakable admiration. “You would be welcome to more if you wished.”
“You are very generous,” he returned, regarding the flower thoughtfully, and wondering what made her blush so when with him. “But about my trip. Yes, I have decided that I will go.”
“When?”
“I sail just a week from to-day. I wrote yesterday to engage my passage.”
“So soon?” Lillian cried, catching her breath, and losing all her brilliant color.
“Yes; if I am to join that excursion to the Pacific coast on the 12th of next month, I must be off.”
“The house will seem like a convent when you are gone; you are the life and soul of everything here,” said the girl, tears starting to her eyes.