o6 THE AMBITIOUS ROSE-TREE.
misty circles, like steam, like ghosts of the gay
guests that had gone. All Avas dark and chill; dark
and chill as any grave !
What worth Avas the place of honour now ?
Was this the place of honour ?
The rose-tree swooned and drooped! A servant's
rough hand shook doAvn its Avorn beauty into a heap
of fallen leaves. When they carried her out dead in
the morning the little Banksia-buds, safe hidden from
the frost within their stems, waiting to come forth
when the summer should come, murmured to one
' She had her Avish ; she was great. This Avay
the gods grant foolish prayers, and punish dis¬