“In your love and kindness of heart, you do not consider these things as does the world, Florinda.  The greater the amount of thy riches, the farther art thou removed from me; thus reasoneth the world-the cold and calculating world.”

“Nay, Carlton, thou art again foreboding,” said the lady in the sweet, honeyed tongue of her land.  “All will yet be as our hearts could wish, I am confident.”

“Love sees with blind eyes, dearest.”

“I know the proverb; but each case is a peculiar one, and this-is not this more so than any other?”

“So thy gentle heart would make it,” he answered tenderly.

“And will not yours assent?”

“In one respect-yes.”

“And that is—­”

“Never was one so loved as thou art; and yet who could look upon those eyes, and hear thee speak thus, and know the goodness and gentleness of thy kind heart, and not love thee, Florinda?”

“Ah, flatterer!”

“Dost thou mean that?” said Carlton, earnestly and quickly.

“Nay, forgive me, Carlton,” said his fair companion.

“Always but when thou shalt question my sincerity; and yet,” he continued, after a moment’s pause, “there are ample grounds for such suspicions.”

“Say not so, Carlton.”

“Behold thy large fortune; am I not penniless?-thy noble birth; am I not an humble citizen?  O, Florinda, there are few in this cold and mercenary world that would accord to me, under these circumstances, the meed of sincerity.”

“There is one who will never doubt thee,” said the lovely girl, placing a hand affectionately within his.

“Dear Florinda, I have thought of another tie to bind us to each other still more dearly, if possible.”

“Pray, what is that, Carlton?”

“We are both orphans, Florinda; both stand, as it were, alone in the world, without any natural protectors even from childhood.”

“True,” said Florinda, “my parents died while I was yet too young to know or love them and thine, Carlton?”

“While I was an infant.”

“How pleasant it must be to have parents to love and advise one.  I have often envied my companions.”

“Ay, it must indeed be a source of happiness; and none would seem to deserve them more than so gentle a spirit as thine.”

“It is indeed an enviable blessing.”

“Father and mother are sweet words,” said the artist, thoughtfully,—­and drawing her gently to his side.

“They are sweet words,” said Florinda; while a sympathetic tear trembled for a moment beneath those long eyelashes, proving the poet’s words, “that beauty’s tears are lovelier than her smiles.”  Carlton saw and marked the truant jewel as it glided down her fair cheek.

And thus they talked on of love, of griefs and hopes, Carlton pressing the hand of his lovely companion affectionately to his lips at times, with a gentle and affectionate tenderness far more eloquent than words; while the response that met this token from her expressive face might have told the most casual observer how dearly and how deeply she loved the young artist, and how the simplest token of tenderness from him was cherished by her.