From the handful of small change, she selected some pennies which
she slipped inside of her glove, and dropping the remainder into her
pocket, left the building, and walked on toward Union Square.
Absorbed in grave reflections, and oppressed by some vague
foreboding of impending ill, dim, intangible and unlocalized--she
moved slowly along the crowded sidewalk--unconscious of the curious
glances directed toward her superb form, and stately graceful
carriage, which more than one person turned and looked back to
admire, wondering when she had stepped down from some sacred
Panathenaic Frieze.

Near Madison Square, she paused before the window of a florist's,
and raising her veil, gazed longingly at the glowing mass of
blossoms, which Nineteenth Century skill and wealth in defiance of
isothermal lines, and climatic limitations force into perfection,
in, and out of season. The violet eyes and crocus fingers of Spring
smiled and quivered, at sight of the crimson rose heart, and flaming
paeony cheeks of royal Summer; and creamy and purple chrysanthemums
that quill their laces over the russet robes of Autumn, here stared
in indignant amazement, at the premature presumption of snowy regal
camellias, audaciously advancing to crown the icy brows of Winter.
All latitudes, all seasons have become bound vassals to the great
God Gold; and his necromancy furnishes with equal facility the dewy
wreaths of orange flowers that perfume the filmy veils of December
brides--and the blue bells of spicy hyacinths which ring "Rest" over
the lily pillows, set as tribute on the graves of babies, who wilt
under August suns.

From early childhood, an ardent love of beauty had characterized