He wanted now just such another,--some mignonette, and geranium, and a single tea-rosebud.

Here they were,--the very counterparts of those which he had worn on a brighter and happier day.
How like they were! how changed was he! In some moods he would have smiled at this bit of girlish folly as he fastened the little thing over his heart; now, something sounded in his throat that was pitifully like a sob.

Don't smile at him! he was so young; so impassioned, yet gentle; and then he loved so utterly with the whole of his great, sore heart.
By and by the time came to go, and eager, yet fearful, he went.

It was a fresh, beautiful day in early June; and when the city, with its heat, and dust, and noise, was left behind, and all the leafy greenness--the soothing quiet of country sights and country sounds--met his ear and eye, a curious peace took possession of his soul.

It was less the whisper of hope than the calm of assured reality.