212
ETHEL CHURCHILL.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE JEWELS GIVEN.
A gentle creature was that girl,
Meek, humble, and subdued;
Like some lone flower that has grown up
In woodland solitude.
Its soil has had but little care,
Its growth but little praise;
And down it droops the timid head
It has not strength to raise.
For other brighter blooms are round,
And they attract the eye;
They seem the sunny favourites
Of summer, earth and sky.
The human and the woodland flower
Hath yet a dearer part,—
The perfume of the hidden depths,
The sweetness at the heart.
"You must wear these to-day, my dear child," said Lord Norbourne, as, entering the dressing-
