He did not know the finer influences at work in Nan's mind.

"I don't like any of the other girls half as well," he muttered, looking disconsolately up and down the long parlors. "Perhaps the pretty Nan doubts me, and wants more devotion. I can be devoted enough, if that's it."

And away he went to hover around her in all the intervals of the dances. There was an airy coldness in her manner that piqued him and lured him on. From time to time he left her, but only to return again.

"A flower for your thoughts, Captain Darrell!" said pretty Rose Stevens, lightly, as she came upon him at one time, half hid by a curtain, staring gloomily out of the window. His ever-ready gallantry made him turn with a smile.

"Would you really give me a forget-me-not for my poor thoughts?" he said. "It is such a genuine faithful little flower, you know.”

"I never pay counterfeits," she replied, with a blush and a laugh.

"Well, give me the flower first. Now I will tell you. I was thinking of the hollowness of the world, Miss Rose."

"O, there is no such thing," she answered, gayly, willfully misunderstanding him. "The world is full of fire in the centre, you know. Just like a great many people, who are warmer at the heart than we give them credit for."

"I'll give it up," he said, laughing, "if you will dance this redowa with me, and not be cold-hearted." And, as they whirled gayly away together, he thought to himself, "Maybe Miss Nan Van Lew will be more gracious when she sees that I can get along without her."

But Nan who was watching them only smiled behind her fan. She understood it all perfectly, and was delighted. She exchanged whispers with Gertie, who had just joined her, breathless from the dance, and they both laughed. But the laugh ceased, and a flush mounted to Nan's brow, as Mr. Dimock, who had just arrived at that late hour, approached her radiantly, and with his compliments begged her acceptance of the singular but elegant bouquet he held in his hand.

It was composed entirely of pelargonium blossoms of every shade, varying from the deepest purple and crimson, through all the rosy and pink tints, to white, and to tiny vivid scarlet clusters.

Nan felt provoked; she was sure her uncle had betrayed her, but she answered, sweetly: "What a very unusual choice, Mr. Dimock! Pray, give them to Gertie, here, she will ap preciate them so much better than I."

"O no, I am sure they suit you best," insisted Mr. Dimock, blandly; "it is an unusual bouquet, I admit, but it means a great deal, Miss Van Lew, it means a great deal." "I don't doubt it," said Nan, throwing it carelessly on a chair beside her; and seeing, to her great relief, that Harry Meade was coming to claim her as a partner, she rose gayly, and floated off in the graceful dance. Mr. Dimock, nowise disconcerted, remained talking with Gertie, who was both amused and embarrassed.

So the evening passed away. At a later hour, as the guests were departing, Nan overheard a gentleman asking Mr. Dimock if anything had been heard of young Stevens yet, and Mr. Dimock said no, there was no news at all of that shiftless young man, and probably never would be.

Nan set her lips firmly, and looked at the pelargonium bouquet with a frown.

CHAPTER III.

THE spring passed gently and softly by, with its sweet sunshine and its fragrant air, its budding trees and its early flowers. Gertie's pansies flourished and bloomed in splendor, and her windows became yet more full of plants, for every few days there was something new added from the young Scotchman's greenhouse, and he had given her, besides, some roots and cuttings that would do well even in the narrow shaded garden plot. So Gertie had grown to be quite a gardener, and went singing about among her books and flowers in perfect content. But Nan was not contented, and did not go about singing; she waited and watched, and felt as if one by one the walls of defence were crumbling down.

One morning she came down stairs earlier than usual, and breakfast not being ready, thought she would go into the library and water her pelargonium, and put it in the sunniest spot. Her Uncle Ben was there before her; she saw him as she opened the door, bending over the plant, counting its buds and blossoms.

"Are you in such haste ?" she asked, with a grain of bitterness.

"Aha, niece!" he exclaimed, rubbing his

hands merrily. "Summer is at hand, you know, and I wanted to see how soon we might expect a wedding in the family."

Nan turned her glance upon the pelargonium; there was one cluster left on which all but two of the buds had blossomed, rich, rosy, pink and beautiful.

"At least there are two buds to be waited for," she said, laughing recklessly, and feeling as if it really did not matter much now what became of her, since Phil Stevens was dead or had forgotten her.

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed Gertie, coming gayly into the room. "Flowers? O Nan, you must come and look at my morning-glories!"

"Flowers, nothing but flowers!" said Uncle Ben, testily. "You ought to hire out to work in folks' gardens, Gertrude; your hands are actually getting brown already. However, I don't know as it makes any difference how they look for a year or two to come."

Gertie blushed, and did not tell him, as she might have done, that she expected to go to the greenhouse that very afternoon, to take lessons in the mysteries of potting plants and setting out cuttings in sand. Nan was too much engaged with her own troubles to notice what Gertie did, so the light-hearted girl pursued her flower studies unmolested, with the wise young Scotchman for a teacher.

Two days after this the last bud on the pelargonium opened and displayed its crimson leaves to the sun. The probation was at an end.

"O little flower, if you had only known, you would have been good and waited a week longer, wouldn't you?" whispered Gertie, bending over it, and feeling very sorry for her poor pretty Cousin Nan.

True to the moment, that very morning Mr. Van Lew gave Nan a letter containing Mr. Dimock's proposal of marriage in due form.

"I've given my consent at once," he said, triumphantly, "and you must have your 'yes' all ready when he comes for it this evening, Nan. He is going to do the handsome thing by you, too, you silly girl; splendid settlements and all that. You'll live like a queen. Now do take your good fortune graciously, and be thankful."

Poor Nan! there was little thankfulness in her heart as she hurried away to her own room, and, throwing herself down upon the sofa, wept bitterly.

"I'd run away," advised Gertie, defiantly.

"I'd beg my bread from door to door, before I'd marry him!"

"O Gertie" sobbed Nan. "If I only knew Phil was alive and that he cared for me, I could resist to the last, even if Uncle Ben killed me. But if Phil is lost to me, I don't care what happens to me in the miserable future. I might as well marry Mr. Dimock, I suppose, as to be wretched any other way, and wretched I should be in any other case. At least, he would not treat me so very badly, and maybe I could make things better for you, Gertie, so that by-and-by, when your time to love comes, you wouldn't be forced to marry any one you hated."

Gertie blushed a vivid scarlet, but Nan, with her face buried in the pillows, did not notice it.

"I do wish there was something I could do for you,” said Gertie, after a little pause. Nan roused herself.

"There is one thing you might do, though it is really useless, I know. Suppose you take back that book and pattern I borrowed of Rose Stevens, and ask to see her herself, and then before you come away manage to find out if they have heard anything from Phil. There might have been some news this very morning-a letter, a telegram. And it would be so dreadful to have gone too far before I found it out."

"I'll go this minute," said Gertie, promptly; and hurrying on her hat and cape she went. It was all to no purpose; Nan felt that, even before she saw the sober disappointed face back in her door, with no news to tell.

"Rose says her father despairs of ever hearing from him again, and now, that the last steamer has arrived without any news, they all feel that it is hopeless."

Nan turned her face wearily to the wall. "Go away now, Gertie," she said. "I shall not go down to dinner. Tell Uncle Ben I am not well, but hope to be better by evening. If anything happens come and tell me; but there wont anything happen!"

And so Gertie went down, and left her alone in her unhappiness.

The morning passed into afternoon, and the hours of the afternoon were wearing away, and still Nan staid up in her room alone with her bitter thoughts.

Suddenly, like a burst of sunshine, the door opened, and in came Gertie, her face radiant, bringing carefully in her hands the heavy flower-pot with the pelargonium.

"What is it?" exclaimed Nan, starting up.

breakfast, with a rather malicious smile, that that bothersome flower would certainly be quite open by noon, and he should bring Mr. Dimock home to dinner, so Nan had better put on her prettiest dress, and be agreeable. Then he went off whistling, to attend to some business down town.

Nan and Gertie went with a sort of tragic solemnity into the library to watch the infolding of the pretty pink flower. It was more than half open-standing there in the sunshine it would take but a few minutes to become a perfect blossom.

Suddenly Gertie left the room, and Nan glancing from the window, and seeing Mr. Wray coming up the steps with his hands full of flowers, smiled sadly, and thought how easily her cousin had deserted her.

It was while Gertie was still standing at the door talking with Mr. Wray, that the Stevens' carriage drew up by the pavement, and Rose's sweet face looked out of the window.

"Has the pelargonium bud blossomed yet, Gertie ?" she asked, as Gertie ran down to hear what she had to say.

"No, but it will in less than five minutes!" said Gertie, and then added, "Isn't it too bad! Poor Nan sits watching it in the library?"

Hurrah!" shouted a inside the carriage,

"Just in time then! glad manly voice from and then the door opened, and out leaped upon the pavement a tall, sunburned, handsome young fellow, who, without stopping for another word, dashed up the steps, into the house, aud into the library where Nan sat tremulously watching her flower.

"O, Nan, Nan, my little darling!" he exclaimed, catching her in his arms, "it isn't all in vain that I have worked and toiled for you, and come back to you at last, is it, Nan ?"

"Phil, Phil, O my love, I thought you werc dead!" said poor Nan, really believing for the first moment that she was dreaming, and

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then sinking in perfect happiness upon his breast. The last rosy petal of the pelargonium flower unfurled in the sunshine and it was a perfect blossom.

Outside Gertie was clapping her hands in joy, while Rose looked on smiling from the carriage.

"He came last night, at midnight, in the steamer," said Rose, beginning to explain at last. "And he has been away off down in Mexico where the wars and revolutions were going on all the time. That's why we got no letters; he wrote them often enough, but the mails were continually being destroyed. Wasn't it dreadful! But he got into some firstrate speculation there, and has made heaps of money, so it is all right now. 0 Gertie, Gertie, how splendid it is!"

"And now he will make her the first offer!" exclaimed Gertie, in an ecstasy, "and the dear blessed little pelargonium has been the saving of her, after all!"

Mr. Wray was looking on in smiling amazement, and was Rose at last drove merrily away, Gertie took him into her confidence and told him the whole story. Gertie and Mr. Wray were by this time on most friendly terms, as you may judge from the fact that he kissed her there in the hall, and whispered:

"It's almost as sweet a romance as ours, isn't it, pet? And what wonder-workers the dear flowers are ?"

Uncle Ben found himself completely checkmated when he came home to dinner, bringing Mr. Dimock with him, but the latter gentleman managed to console himself with the reflection that a wife so unloving would never have made him happy.

So at last all went well, and the marriage bells were rung for Phil and Nan.

The next blow to Mr. Benjamin Van Lew was Gertie's engagement to Mr. Wray, but his words availed no more than the idle wind, she married the man of her choice and never repented it.""