ntinue it alone.

But the child's play was over, the bend in the path had been but a short
one, and they were now before her "heavenly wall." Winthrop, upon being
told to open his eyes--he had perhaps kept them closed longer than was
absolutely necessary--found himself standing before a wall of verdure,
fifteen feet high, composed of a mass of shining little leaves set
closely together in an almost even expanse; this lustrous green was
spangled with white flowers widely open, the five petals laid flatly
back like a star.

"The Cherokee rose," said Dr. Kirby. He had been greatly vexed by
Garda's freak of taking Winthrop's hands and pulling him along, and as
he added, explanatorily, "the wild white rose of the South," he glanced
at him to see how he, as a northerner and stranger, regarded it.

But the stranger and northerner was gazing at the southern flowers with
an interest which did not appear to depend at all upon the southern girl
who had brought him thither.

Garda remained but a moment; while they were looking at the roses she
walked slowly on, following her heavenly wall.

"She is but a child," said the Doctor, looking after her. "We have
perhaps kept her one too long."

"On the contrary, that is her charm," replied Winthrop. "How old is
she?"

"Barely sixteen. If her father had lived, it would perhaps have been
better for her; she would have had in that case, probably, more
seriousness--a little more. Mistress Thorne's ideas concerning the
training of children are admirable, most admirable; but they presuppose
a certain kind of child, and Garda wasn't that kind at all; I may say,
indeed, the contrary. Mistress Thorne has therefore found herself at
fault now and then, her precedents have failed her; she has been met by
perplexities, sometimes I have even thought her submerged in them and
floundering--if I may use such an expression of the attitude of a
cultured lady. The truth is, her perceptions have been to blame."

"Yet I have thought her perceptions unusually keen," said Winthrop.

"So they are, so they are; but they all advance between certain lines,
they are narrow. Understand me, however--I would not have them wider; I
was not wishing that, I was only wishing that poor Edgar, the father,
could have lived ten years longer. Too wide a perception, sir, in a
woman, a perception of things in general--general views in short--I
regard as an open door to immorality; women so endowed are sure to go
wrong-