One afternoon the young man came out of his painting-room and passed the open door of Eugenia's little salon.

Within, in the cool dimness, he saw his sister, dressed in white, buried in her arm-chair, and holding to her face an immense bouquet.

Opposite to her sat Clifford Wentworth, twirling his hat.

He had evidently just presented the bouquet to the Baroness, whose fine eyes, as she glanced at him over the big roses and geraniums, wore a conversational smile.

Felix, standing on the threshold of the cottage, hesitated for a moment as to whether he should retrace his steps and enter the parlor.