We were again firm allies; but I
resolved to fathom, if possible, the mystery of the flowers. I now
observed, with surprise, that Millington never quitted his rooms
without a flower in his hand, or _boutonniere_; which flower, upon his
return, appeared to have been either lost, or metamorphosed into,
sometimes, one of another description; sometimes into a nosegay. Very
strange indeed, thought I; and began to have my suspicions that in all
this might be traced "fair woman's visitings." Yes, Millington must
decidedly have fallen in love. He was never in chapel, never in hall,
never in college, never at lectures, and never at parties; he was in
love, that was certain; but with whom? He knew none of the resident
gentry of ----, and he was far too proud to involve himself in "an
affair" with a girl of inferior rank. Many men did so; but Millington
despised them for it. Accidentally I discovered that he adored Julia,
the young, sweet daughter of an undoubted gentleman, who was not yet
"come out." She was a lively, pretty brunette, with brownest curling
hair, only fifteen; and to this day, I believe, knows not the name of
her lover. From an attic window of a five storied house, this fond and
beautiful girl contrived, sometimes, to shower upon the head of her
devoted admirer sweet flowers, and sometimes this paragon of pairs
meeting each other in the walks, silently effected an interchange of
the buds and blossoms, with which they always took care to be
provided.
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