All three stems were crowned with clusters of flowers, the single
flower a little larger than that of the red valerian, of a pale red
hue and a peculiar shape, as each small pointed petal had a fold or
twist at the end. Altogether it was slightly singular in appearance
and pretty, though not to be compared with scores of other flowers of
the plains for beauty. Nevertheless it had an extraordinary
fascination for me, and from the moment of its discovery it became one
of my sacred flowers. From that time onwards, when riding on the
plain, I was always on the look-out for it, and as a rule I found
three or four plants in a season, but never more than one at any spot.
They were usually miles apart.
On first discovering it I took a spray to show to my mother, and was
strangely disappointed that she admired it merely because it was a
pretty flower, seen for the first time. I had actually hoped to hear
from her some word which would have revealed to me why I thought so
much of it: now it appeared as if it was no more to her than any other
pretty flower and even less than some she was peculiarly fond of, such
as the fragrant little lily called Virgin's Tears, the scented pure
white and the rose-coloured verbenas, and several others. Strange that
she who alone seemed always to know what was in my mind and who loved
all beautiful things, especially flowers, should have failed to see
what I had found in it!
Years later, when she had left us and when I had grown almost to
manhood and we were living in another place, I found that we had as
neighbour a Belgian gentleman who was a botanist.
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