A few days and the tender care and kindness of Flora Wilton were rewarded by the rapidly returning strength of Lotte. She was able to leave her room and to walk in the garden with Flora. These walks in the soft fresh air did much to revive her; the garden was so prettily laid out, the flowers so profuse and beautiful—she loved flowers passionately—that it afforded her considerable pleasure to stroll there in company with her kind friend.
Besides, while most grateful for the affectionate sympathy and generosity of Flora, she had no notion of remaining dependant. She had far too brave a spirit for that, and she felt that these daily walks among the flowers in the bright clear air were bringing back to her health and strength, to renew the labour of breadwinning.
One lovely morning, while strolling with Flora, she said to her lightly—
“The garden adjoining this appears to be extremely beautiful, although it is hardly possible to get a glimpse at it.”
Flora smiled.
“I have discovered already the mysteries of this garden, Lotte. There are several little secret nooks, of which you would never dream, if you had not searched them out. I will take you to one where you can have an unimpeded view of the next garden, and you will say when you see it that it is beautiful indeed.”
Flora at once turned from the path into a narrow alcove of young alder and beech trees, and Lotte followed her. They pursued a winding course for a short distance, and were stopped by a wire fence.
The adjoining garden lay spread out before them in all its cultivated beauty.
But also before them, face to face, within five or six feet, were a party of ladies and gentlemen—
“Good gwacious, Vane,” exclaimed suddenly a tall, bulky, fair young man, “did you evaw in youaw wemembwance see an angel’s face so wavishingly beautiful?”