The flowers of Ernest, the pearls of Edith, came to me with a message as gladdening as that which waked the silver harp-strings of the morning stars.

I did not, I dared not misunderstand the meaning of the first.

They were sent as balm to a wounded spirit; as breathers of hope to the ear of despair; but it was _his_ hand that administered the balm; _his_ spirit that inspired the strain.
"How radiant you look, Gabriella!" exclaimed Edith, her sweet blue eyes resting on me with affectionate delight.

"I am so glad to see you come out of the cloud.

Now you justify our _pride_ as well as our affection." "But I--but all of us look so earthly at your side, Edith"-- "Hush! flatterer--and yet, who would not prefer the beauty of earth, to the cold idealism of spirit loveliness?
I have never sought the admiration of men.