Page:Cerise, a tale of the last century (IA cerisetaleoflast00whytrich).pdf/411

 geological formation of the neighbourhood, though a line or two of political gossip interspersed would relieve the dryness of that profound subject. Perhaps many of these packets, ciphers, scientific information, and all, were intended to be read by the authorities at St. James's. Perhaps every courier was entrusted with a set of despatches on purpose to be seized, and a line in the handle of his whip, a word or two spoken in apparent jest, a mere sign that might be forwarded to a confederate looker-on, signifying the real gist of his intelligence.

At any rate the papers required a deal of preparation, and Florian was seldom able to accompany his host on the sporting expeditions in which the latter took such delight.

Sir George, then, would be off soon after daylight, to return at dinner-time, and in a whole fortnight had not yet found that spare five minutes for a visit to Lady Hamilton's garden, while Florian would be at leisure by noon, and naturally devoted himself to the service of his hostess for the rest of the day.

They read together—they walked together—they gardened together. Some of those special packets that arrived from France, even contained certain seeds which Cerise had expressed a wish to possess, and they talked of their future crop, and the result of their joint labours next year, as if Florian had become an established member of the family, and was never to depart.

This mode of life might have been interrupted by her ladyship's misgivings at first, but she reflected that it would be absurd for her to discontinue an agreeable companionship of which her husband obviously approved, only because she had misapplied her mother's letter, or her mother had misunderstood hers; also it is difficult to resume coldness and reserve, where we have given, and wish to give, confidence and friendship, so Florian and Cerise were to be seen every fine day on the terrace at Hamilton Hill hard at work, side by side, like brother and sister, over the same flower-bed.

"Florian!" she would say, for Cerise had so accustomed herself to his Christian name in talking of him with her husband, that she did not always call him Monsieur de St. Croix to his face. "Florian! come and help me to