What could that fault be?  Not his costume—­not the attempt he had made to intrude upon her privacy.  Certainly Redbud never would have punished him so cruelly for such trifling things as these, conceding that they were distasteful to her.

What, then, could be the meaning of all this?

Just as he asked himself the question for the sixth time, there appeared at the door of the apartment no less a personage than Miss Sallianna, who, ambling into the room with that portion of the head which we have more than once mentioned, and the lackadaisical smile which was habitual with her, approached Verty, and graciously extended her yellow hand.

The young man took the extended member, and made a bow.  Miss Sallianna received it with a still more gracious smile, and asked Mr. Verty to be seated.

He shook his head.

“I must go away, ma’am,” he said, sadly; “Redbud has quarrelled with me, and I cannot stay.  Oh! what have I done to cause this!”

And Verty’s head sank upon his bosom, and his lips trembled.

Miss Sallianna gazed at him with a curious smile, and after a moment’s silence, said: 

“Suppose you sit down for a minute, Mr. Verty, and tell me all about this—­this—­highly intrinsic occurrence.  You could not repose your sorrows in a more sympathetic bosom than my own.”

And subsiding gracefully upon the sofa, Miss Sallianna made Verty sit by her, and even gently moved her fan before his face, smiling and simpering.

Perhaps the reader may feel some surprise at the change in Miss Sallianna’s demeanor toward the young man, the fact of whose existence she had scarcely noticed on the occasion of their first meeting in the garden.  The explanation will be neither lengthy nor difficult.  Miss Sallianna was one of those ladies who have so profound an admiration for nature, beauty, love, and everything elevated and ennobling, that they are fond of discussing these topics with the opposite sex—­exchanging ideas, and comparing opinions, no doubt for the purpose of arriving at sound conclusions upon these interesting subjects.  If, in the course of these conversations, the general discussion became particular and personal—­if, in a word, the gentleman was induced to regard the lady as an example of the beauties they were talking about, in nature, love, etc., Miss Sallianna did not complain, and even seemed somewhat pleased thereof.  Of course there would have been no profit or entertainment in discussing these recondite subjects with a savage such as Verty had appeared to be upon their former interview, when, with his long, tangled hair, hunter’s garb, and old slouched hat, he resembled an inhabitant of the backwoods—­what could such a personage know of divine philosophy, or what pleasure could a lady take in his society?—­no pleasure, evidently.  But now that was all changed.  The young gentleman now presented a civilized appearance; he was plainly becoming more cultivated, and his education,