adding "remember that you are my chevalier for the remainder of the
evening. When you have finished, we will rejoin the company." Mary
Douglas seated herself in a rustic chair and chatted in gay and animated
tones while her father listened with a deep interest. The well tried
soldier, the gallant commander at Badajos, at Corunna, the hero of many
fierce conflicts, and the firm friend and favourite of the Duke of
Wellington, listened to the conversation of his daughter with as much
keenness as a question involving the strongest points of diplomacy.

"Papa, this garden will fully repay you for your labour. I do wish that
I could understand and enter into the study of plants and flowers as you
do." "Ah, my Mary," exclaimed Sir Howard in a deep reverential tone, as
his thoughts went back to the days of his boyhood, "I had a kind
benefactress, and I may say _mother_ in my aunt Helena. She created in
me an early love for flowers, and I have always cherished it. Often
during my campaign in the Peninsula, the sight of a lovely flower would
call up emotions that would for the time unman me for the raging
conflicts of battle. I always look upon flowers as the trophies of God's
grace. Mary, I trust you yet will be able to attend to the cultivation
of Heaven's choicest offerings, and remember, that by so doing, you only
contribute a small share in the beautifying of nature." Having enjoyed
this strain of converse for some length of time, Mary Douglas rose,
exclaiming, "Now, Papa, you are at my service." Sir Howard bowed, and
offered his arm to his fair daughter. Together they went out, being
greeted by the merry party still lingering on the verandah. "Explain,
Mary," said the foremost of the party, "this breach of confidence and
utter contempt of the necessities of your friends. We have been vainly
waiting your appearance to join us in a walk, and now it is nearly time
to dress for dinner." "Very prettily said, Lady Rosamond," replied Sir
Howard, "but as I wear my lady's favour, you will grant me a hearing on