alone, and was gazing around him, as if perplexed by the absence of his companion.
“I dared not alarm Seraphina by asking her many questions, but she, on the other hand, was exceedingly anxious to know the cause of my agitation. I evaded the subject as well as I could, but asked if she had been long in the study? ‘Nay, Florentine,’ said she with a smile, ‘what means this? You should know best how to answer that inquiry. I came hither after you, and had been walking in the garden. At least I think so—but am not very sure.’
“This half-consciousness of what had just taken place would not alone have surprised me, as she had often be so absent as to forget all that passed around her. But just then my father came into the room. ‘Seraphina,’ said he rather sternly, ‘tell me how you got out of my sight all of a sudden? You know I was just about to answer what you had said,—when I found that you had disappeared in the shrubbery. I sought you there in vain—and now you are in the house before me!’ ‘It is very strange!’ answered she, ‘and, for my own part, I know not how all this has happened!’ From that hour, I was forced to believe
