Margaret leaned for a moment against the little tree she had been told to look at so steadfastly, and then followed her companion through the woods. He walked so fast that she was soon out of breath trying to overtake him. When she had done so, she said in a low voice,
"I am vain and contemptible. I despise myself more than I can express. Forgive me for giving you so much trouble."
Dr. James turned; his face was clear, and he smiled upon her with a smile that was sunshine itself; he did not reply, but walked slowly by her side, then stooped, and holding something out to her, said,
"See, here are the first flowers; the little hepatica ventures out before all the rest. Will you take it? How pretty it is! how delicate the colors are; and the stem is covered with fur. Notice the green and brown leaves, too; they add to its beauty and singularity. It is my favorite flower."
The deep flush in Margaret's face had died away, and her voice had resumed its usual tone when they joined the rest of the party, and sat down to the feast; but her gayety was gone, and it seemed as if nothing could recall it. She was abstracted and serious, and not in accordance with the merriment around her. At last she arose, and went to a rock, on which she leaned, and watched the little minnows darting about in a green pool of water, when she was startled by the doctor's voice close beside her. He held toward her a small silver tumbler, filled with iced claret and water, and said in an undertone,
"Miss Lester, how can you let a trifle weigh so on your mind, and cloud all your enjoyment?" He was smiling in a friendly way; but she looked at him reproachfully, and said,
"How can you call it a trifle? It might have cost me my life."
"You are right," he replied gravely; "nothing ought to be called a trifle whose consequences might be serious; though attendant circumstances make us look at the same thing in such different lights at different times. On the bridge, and when I felt angry with you afterward, your conduct seemed to me a most weighty matter; now I can with difficulty recall any thing except the honesty and courage of your apology. Having seen and humbly acknowledged your fault, will you not now confer a favor on the whole party by forgetting what is past?"
Margaret smiled, and saying, "I will, at least, forget myself," accompanied him back to the party.
She did her part very well, and, owing in a great measure to her efforts, the rest of the picnic and the moonlight drive home were quite as pleasant as the setting out had been.