CHAPTER LXIV.
THE ROSE OF GLENGARY.
Redbud rose, smiling, and with the gentle simplicity of one child to another, said: "Oh! you ought not to have said that about cousin Lavinia, Verty--ought you ?" Verty looked guilty.
"I don't think I ought," he said.
"You know she is very sensitive about this." "Anan ?" Verty said, smiling.
Redbud looked gently at the young man, and replied: "I mean, she does not like any one to speak of it ?" "Why ?" said Verty.
"Because--because--engaged people are so funny!" And Redbud's silver laughter followed the words.
"Are they ?" Verty said.
"Yes, indeed." Verty nodded.
"Next time I will be more thoughtful," he said; "but I think I ought to have answered honestly." Redbud shook her curls with a charming little expression of affected displeasure.
"Oh, no! no!" "Not answer ?" "Certainly not, sir--fie! in the cause of ladies!" Verty laughed.
"I understand," he said, "you are thinking of the books about the knights--the old Froissart, yonder, in four volumes.

But you know there were'nt any courts in those days, and knights were not obliged to answer." Redbud, training up a drooping vine, replied, laughing: "Oh, no--I was only jesting.

Don't mind my nonsense.

Look at that pretty morning-glory." Verty looked at Redbud, as if she were the object in question.
"You will hurt your hand," he said,--"those thorns on the briar are so sharp; take care!" And Verty grasped the vine, and, no doubt, accidentally, Redbud's hand with it.
"Now I have it," he said; and suddenly seeing the double meaning of his words, the young man added, with a blush and a smile, "it is all I want in the world." "What?
the--oh!" And Miss Redbud, suddenly aware of Mr.Verty's meaning, finds her voice rather unsafe, and her cheeks covered with blushes.

But with the tact of a grown woman, she applies herself to the defeat of her knight; and, turning away, says, as easily as possible: "Oh, yes--the thorn; it is a pretty vine; take care, or it will hurt your hand." Verty feels astounded at his own boldness, but says, with his dreamy Indian smile: "Oh, no, I don't want the thorn--the rose!--the rose!" Redbud understands that this is only a paraphrase--after the Indian fashion--for her own name, and blushes again.
"We--were--speaking of cousin Lavinia," she says, hesitatingly.
Verty sighs.
"Yes," he returns.
Redbud smiles.
"And I was scolding you for replying to papa's question," she adds.
Verty sighs again, and says: "I believe you were right; I don't think I could have told them what we were talking about." "Why ?" asks the young girl.
"We were talking about you," says Verty, gazing at Redbud tenderly; "and you will think me very foolish," adds Verty, with a tremor in his voice; "but I was asking Mr.Roundjacket if he thought you could--love--me--O, Redbud--" Verty is interrupted by the appearance of Miss Lavinia.
Redbud turns away, blushing, and overwhelmed with confusion.
Miss Lavinia comes to the young man, and holds out her hand.
"I did not mean to hurt your feelings, just now, Verty," she says, "pardon me if I made you feel badly.