Two or three exquisite paintings of children, in various attitudes, embellished the wall.

In short, the eye could turn nowhere without meeting images of childhood, of beauty, and of peace.

Those little eyes never opened, in the morning light, without falling on something which suggested to the heart soothing and beautiful thoughts.
The deceitful strength which had buoyed Eva up for a little while was fast passing away; seldom and more seldom her light footstep was heard in the verandah, and oftener and oftener she was found reclined on a little lounge by the open window, her large, deep eyes fixed on the rising and falling waters of the lake.
It was towards the middle of the afternoon, as she was so reclining,--her Bible half open, her little transparent fingers lying listlessly between the leaves,--suddenly she heard her mother's voice, in sharp tones, in the verandah.
"What now, you baggage!--what new piece of mischief! You've been picking the flowers, hey ?" and Eva heard the sound of a smart slap.
"Law, Missis! they 's for Miss Eva," she heard a voice say, which she knew belonged to Topsy.
"Miss Eva! A pretty excuse!--you suppose she wants _your_ flowers, you good-for-nothing nigger! Get along off with you!" In a moment, Eva was off from her lounge, and in the verandah.
"O, don't, mother! I should like the flowers; do give them to me; I want them!" "Why, Eva, your room is full now." "I can't have too many," said Eva.

"Topsy, do bring them here." Topsy, who had stood sullenly, holding down her head, now came up and offered her flowers.

She did it with a look of hesitation and bashfulness, quite unlike the eldrich boldness and brightness which was usual with her.
"It's a beautiful bouquet!" said Eva, looking at it.
It was rather a singular one,--a brilliant scarlet geranium, and one single white japonica, with its glossy leaves.