“Have you a lover, child?” asked the widow.

“A lover?—­no, but there is a young man with whom we always used to play when we were quite little—­an artist, a kind, good man—­and the nosegay must be from him.”

Hannah looked with sympathy at the girl, and signing to Mary she said: 

“The nosegay is a very large one.  You may see it, but it must not remain in the room; the smell of so many flowers might do you harm.”

Mary rose from her seat at the head of the bed, and whispered to the sick girl: 

“Is that the tall gate-keeper’s son?” Selene nodded, smiling, and as the women went away she changed her position from lying on one side, stretched herself out on her back, pressed her hand to her heart, and looked upwards with a deep sigh.  There was a singing in her ears, and flashes of colored light seemed to dance before her closed eyes.  She drew her breath with difficulty, but still it seemed as though the air she drew in was full of the perfume of flowers.

Hannah and Mary carried in the enormous bunch of flowers.  Selene’s eyes shone more brightly, and she clasped her hands in admiration.  Then she made them show her the lovely, richly-tinted and fragrant gift, first on one side and then on the other, buried her face in the flowers, and secretly kissed the delicate petals of a lovely, half-opened rose-bud.  She felt as if intoxicated, and the bright tears flowed in slow succession down her cheeks.  Mary was the first to detect the brooch stuck into the ribbons that tied the stems of the flowers.  She unfastened it and showed it to Selene, who hastily took it out of her hand.  Blushing deeper and deeper, she fixed her eyes on the intaglio carved on the stone of the love god sharpening his arrows.  She felt her pain no more pain, she felt quite well, and at the same time glad, proud, too happy.  Dame Hannah noted her excitement with much anxiety; she nodded to Mary and said: 

“Now my daughter, this must do; we will place the flowers outside the window so that you may see them.”

“Already,” said Selene, in a regretful tone, and she broke off a few violets and roses from the crowded mass.  When she was alone again, she laid the flowers down and once more tenderly contemplated the figures on the handsome gem.  It had no doubt been engraved by Teuker, the brother of Pollux.  How fine the carving was, how significant the choice of the subject represented!  Only the heavy gold setting disturbed the poor child, who for so many years had had to stint and contrive with her money.  She said to herself that it was wrong of the young fellow, who, besides being poor, had to support his sister, to rush into such an outlay for her.  But his gift gave her none the less pleasure, out of her own possessions nothing would have seemed too precious to give him.  She would teach him to be saving by-and-bye.