Just as the train was starting a voice exclaimed, "Miss Verne here
are some violets, I brought them purposely to match your eyes." The
fairy-like child placed the treasures in Marguerite's hand and
bounded away without further comment.
"She is a good child," said Phillip, waving adieu to his companion
and hurrying towards the carriage awaiting him.
Cousin Jennie now came forward demanding a share of the violets.
"Mr. Lawson thinks so much of her that I almost love him!" cried she
vehemently. "And she is so cute, I'm sure her brother cannot pay
such pretty compliments, Madge!"
Marguerite smiled and glanced far away over the distant hills,
crowned with trees and foliage already flaunting themselves in
holiday attire.
At that moment Phillip Lawson was thinking over a host of
compliments, which if repeated would have caused Marguerite Verne's
_spirituelle_ face to glow with maiden blushes.
But let us believe--
"One truth is dear, whatever is, is right,"
and leave each to the free range of thought indulged in at the
self-same moment.
The lovely views of nature on this lonely morn soon claimed
Marguerite's attention.
"If the world were all so fair! Oh, how charming!" exclaimed the
latter rising from her seat and drinking deep of the glowing beauty
of hill and dale, beautifully undulating expanse of green carpeted
fields lying in the distance, the purple mountain tops glowing with
regal splendour and above all the ethereal dome of heavenly blue
with fleecy clouds in fantastic shapes and trooping along in gay and
festive march across the boundless field.
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