“Madam!”
“He made love to me four years ago, and I was compelled to reject him.”
“I know it, Miss Laverty. He told me you were without a heart, and therefore I have been under no restraint in our little innocent flirtations, as no life-chord can be cracked.”
“Henry Stanton is a friend of yours, then?”
“Yes, Miss—almost a brother. I shall marry his sister Kate, next May.”
“You, Mr. Pennant!”
“Yes—she came, saw and conquered, the past fall, as I returned from my last cruise. A sweet girl she is, Miss Laverty.”
“Mr. Pennant, will you step and find my father, and ask him to order the carriage? I have danced enough, to-night, and will retire.”
Frank withdrew, and Amy sighed again! That night tears wet her pillow. Tears around the couch of youth, and wealth and beauty! Ah! gold may purchase the gorgeous bouquet, to adorn the opera box, even in mid-winter; but all the wealth of India cannot buy one single shoot of heart’s ease! It is a fairy plant, and blossoms loveliest in the humble shades of life!
And Amy slept at last; but she slept uneasily, amid confused dreams that Kate and Henry Stanton were attempting to poison her! About the same time, Queen Mab was with Frank Pennant, too, and he laughed happily in his sleep, as he dreamed that Kate was pelting him, in mimic play, with rose-buds and myrtle leaves, while his dear friend Harry looked on smilingly. If dreams are an index to our waking thoughts, it needs no somnosophist to interpret what was passing in the dark chambers of their thoughts!