The world is still deceived with ornament;
and thus I make my choice,“ answered Lucia, smiling, and blushing as she took the forget-me-not, and pressed them to her bosom.
“O happy, happy Mr. Gadsby!” cried Charlotte, laughing and clapping her hands.
“Are these from him, then!” exclaimed Lucia, as she cast the beautiful flowers from her. “Then pardon me, Charlotte, if I make a new choice; Mr. Gadsby is too officious—pray bring me no more flowers from him!”
“You are really ungenerous, Lucia,” said Mrs. Laurence; “no one has been so attentive in their inquiries since you have been ill as Mr. Gadsby. I believe not a day has passed without his calling; they have not been merely formal inquiries either—his countenance betrays a real interest.”
Lucia colored, and a gentle sigh heaved her bosom—but she said, coldly,
“It is not difficult, dear mother, for Mr. Gadsby to feign an interest for any lady upon whom he chooses to inflict his attentions.”
“Now, Lucia, I take a bold, defensive ground for Mr. Gadsby,” exclaimed Charlotte. “You have abused the poor man unmercifully since you first knew him, nor given him credit for one honest feeling. Well, there is one comfort, you do not think worse of him than he does of you.”
“Then there is no love lost!” said Lucia, rather hastily.
“No, I am sure of that!” replied Charlotte, laughing. “There is none lost, it is true, but treasured in your very hearts, hidden away as fire beneath the snowy surface of Hecla, and which will one day suddenly burst its frigid bonds—now mark my words!”