Hilary remonstrated, and assured her she should have no appetite; and she did not wish her to go out of the way on that account. But Victoria was one of those gayly-selfish and cheerfully-obstinate individuals, who are never really turned out of their way, or persuaded out of their opinion. She listened with a smile to Hilary’s remonstrances, and agreed to her remarks, but never in the smallest point altered her mind or her conduct. To “the Ferns” she meant to go, and accordingly to “the Ferns” they went; avowedly for Hilary’s comfort, actually for Miss Fielding’s pleasure. On first reaching it the master was invisible, and Hilary, for a few minutes, entertained the hope that, though thus forced against her will into his house, she should escape meeting him. But this hope soon proved vain, for presently he entered; and not only did his tone and manner in addressing her speak of the feelings she did not wish to encourage, but they evinced so entire an absence of surprise at her visit, as made her unavoidably suspect that the whole had been a scheme between the cousins to entrap her into coming
there with or without her will. This was confirmed by the fact of his bringing in with him a basket of most beautiful flowers, which he began arranging as he sat by her, observing, as he did so, that he wished to replace the bouquet she had lost on the day of her accident.
What a world of thoughts rushed through her memory at these words, and dyed her cheek with hot crimson blushes. How Charles interpreted her confusion she did not know; her ideas flew off to another person; there was another voice ringing in her ears—a voice which petitioned, in never-forgotten whispers, for one violet; and then she wondered, as she had often done before, not only what had become of those flowers themselves, but of the feelings they seemed to express, and the hopes they had awakened; had that bunch of violets sunk, where she had so narrowly escaped, and were they to be the type, the emblem of the fate which would attend her own shy affections, and shrinking, undeveloped expectations?
“You do not know,” continued Charles, after watching her downcast eyelids and flitting color for some minutes, “that I saw the remains of that bunch of flowers, scattered, soiled, withered, floating on the water two days afterward. I tried to secure the peristeria, which I should have valued for the associations connected with it. It was near the bank, and I could see one snowy dove, sitting on her little nest, unsoiled and peaceful. I tried to grasp it; but I failed, and not only plunged my own feet into a treacherous hole, from which I had some difficulty in escaping, but pushed the flower itself under water, and it did not rise again!”
“It was hardly worth the risk,” said Hilary; “you, who have so many fair flowers in your own houses, should have allowed those which accident had scattered on the water to float on, until they became the prize of a less wealthy individual.”
“Had they been mine still, or rather, had they never had another owner, been pressed by another hand, I might have done so, Miss Duncan,” was his significant answer.
“I still think it was not worth the risk,” replied Hilary,
quietly; “but we are told that we may learn lessons from every thing, and certainly life is full of emblems, if we do but read them right.”
“I know how fanciful you are, Miss Duncan,” replied he, in a lighter tone; “what moral would you deduce from this incident for my benefit?”
She hesitated a little; seeing which, he added more gravely, “Nay, do tell me; since I lost the flower I coveted, let me profit by the loss in some way; do not let that pretty dove-blossom have sunk uselessly beneath the waters; tell me of what it is the emblem!”