Mrs. Verne was in every sense a votaress to the world's caprice, yet
she was not devoid of insight. She could see the noble traits of
character in Phillip Lawson; but she must bow to the mandates of
fashionable folly.
Mr. Verne, deeply absorbed in stocks and exchanges, seldom took
respite in the gaieties of the drawing-room; but in his business
hours he saw enough of young Lawson to convince him of his
character.
A slight circumstance happened one evening which had a tenfold
effect upon Marguerite Verne; but the girl kept her own counsel, and
cherished the thought as a happy talisman through all the months and
years that followed ere events brought about the consummation of her
fondest hopes. Mr. Verne was seated in the library. Brilliant rays
of light were reflected from the highly-burnished chandelier.
"Madge, my girl, come read awhile," exclaimed the former, as
he espied his favorite across the hall with a delicate bouquet of
hot-house plants in her hand.
"I will be with you in a minute, papa, dear," was the response, in a
sweet, childlike voice, as the speaker ran up the broad staircase
with elfin grace and gaiety.
"So the flowers were not for me, you naughty girl.
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