"My bouquet, Harry; I hope you have not forgotten it," said Clara, as I
approached.

I presented it at once, when she gaily and coquettishly held out her hand
for me to kiss. This I did, my blood rushing to my face and temples the
while, and almost depriving me of consciousness.

"Well, Clara, I am surprised at you," said Mortimer. "How can you treat
the poor boy so?"

I grew deadly pale at these words, and, turning round, looked at the
speaker full in the face. Poor fellow, thought I, he is jealous, and I
am really grieved for him; and turned again to Clara.

"Here it is--oh! how handsome, papa," said one of the younger children,
running eagerly to the window, as a very pretty open carriage with four
horses drew up before the house.

"The bishop has taste," I murmured to myself, scarcely deigning to give a
second look at the equipage.

Clara now left the room, but speedily returned--her dress changed, and
shawled as if for a walk. What could all this mean?--and the whispering,
too, what is all that?--and why are they all so sad?--Clara has been
weeping.

"God bless you, my child--good by," said my aunt, as she folded her in
her arms for the third time.

"Good by, good by," I heard on every side. At length, approaching me,