He had a pretty little basket in his hand, filled with maiden-hair ferns, scarlet anemones, and cyclamen.
"Oh, how very beautiful, Mr. Stanley; where did you get them?"
"I have been for an early walk in the Valley of Hinnom, and climbing about on the hills on either side. I am so glad you like them; I thought you would."
"They are very lovely!" I said. "Evelyn will be charmed, she is so fond of flowers; I will put them in water, and take them upstairs to her. She is better to-day, Mr. Stanley."
"I am glad of that," he said; "the fever soon passes away if care is taken. But I gathered these flowers for you—if you will have them."
"Thank you, very much indeed," I said; "I did not know they were for me; it was very good of you."
"I am so glad you like them," he said; "I could see you were fond of flowers the other day on the Mount of Olives. I must be going now; will you tell Sir William I will meet you at the Jaffa Gate, at four o'clock? There are several people I must see to-day about various things, so I am afraid I must leave you all to your own devices until evening. Good-bye, take care of yourself; I don't want you to have fever."
He was half-way to the door when he turned back again.
"There is a little piece of paper here, in the middle of the flowers," he said; "that is for you, for no one else, remember. The verses are only written in pencil; I don't know whether you will be able to make them out. They are only about the flowers," he added, smiling; "you will not be angry, will you?"
"Oh no," I said; and he was gone.