[figure description] Page 352.[end figure description]

Mr. Carrollton had returned from Boston on Thursday
afternoon, and finding them all gone from the hotel, had
come on to Hillsdale in the evening train, surprising Maggie
as she sat in the parlor alone, wishing herself in Worcester,
or in some place where it was not as lonely as there. With
his presence the loneliness disappeared, and in making his
tea and listening to his agreeable conversation, she forgot
everything, until, observing that she looked weary, he said,
“Maggie, I would willingly talk to you all night, were it not
for the bad effect it would have you on to-morrow. You
must go to bed now,” and he showed her his watch, which
pointed to the hour of midnight.

Exceedingly mortified, Maggie was leaving the room,
when noticing her evident chagrin, Mr. Carrollton came to
her side and laying his hand very respectfully on hers, said
kindly, “It is my fault, Maggie, keeping you up so late, and
I only send you away now, because those eyes are growing
heavy, and I know that you need rest. Good night to you,
and pleasant dreams.”

He went with her to the door, watching her until she disappeared
up the stairs; then half wishing he had not sent
her from him, he, too, sought his chamber; but not to sleep,
for Maggie, though absent, was with him still in fancy. For
more than a year he had been haunted with a bright,

[figure description] Page 353.[end figure description]

sunshiny face, whose owner embodied the dashing, independent
spirit, and softer qualities which made Maggie Miller so attractive.
Of this face he had often thought, wondering if the
real would equal the ideal, and now that he had met with
her, had looked into her truthful eyes, had gazed upon her
sunny face, which mirrored faithfully her every thought and
feeling, he was more than satisfied, and to love that beautiful
girl seemed to him an easy matter. She was so childlike,
so artless, so different from any one whom he had ever
known, that he was interested in her at once. But Arthur
Carrollton never did a thing precipitately. She might have
many glaring faults, he must see her more, must know her
better, ere he lavished upon her the love whose deep fountains
had never yet been stirred.

After this manner he reasoned as he walked up and down
his chamber, while Maggie, on her sleepless pillow, was
thinking, too, of him, wondering if she did hate him as
much as she intended, and if Henry would be offended at
her sitting up with him until after twelve o'clock.

It was nearly half-past nine when Maggie awoke next
morning, and making a hasty toilet, she descended to the
dining-room, where she found Mr. Carrollton awaiting her.
He had been up a long time; but when Anna Jeffrey,
blessed with an uncommon appetite, fretted at the delay of
breakfast, and suggested calling Margaret, he objected, saying
she needed rest, and must not be disturbed. So, in
something of a pet, the young lady breakfasted alone with
her aunt, Mr. Carrollton preferring to wait for Maggie.

“I am sorry I kept you waiting,” said Maggie, seating
herself at the table, and continuing to apologize for her
tardiness.

But Mr. Carrollton felt more than repaid by having her
thus alone with him, and many were the admiring glances he

[figure description] Page 354.[end figure description]

cast towards her, as with her shining hair, her happy face,
her tasteful morning gown of pink, and her beautiful white
hands which handled so gracefully the silver coffee-urn, she
made a living, glowing picture, such as any man might
delight to look upon. Breakfast being over, Mr. Carrollton
proposed a ride, and as Anna Jeffrey at that moment
entered the parlor, he invited her to accompany them.
There was a shadow on Maggies brow, as she left the room
to dress, a shadow which had not wholly disappeared when
she returned; and observing this, Mr. Carrollton said,
“Were I to consult my own wishes, Maggie, I should leave
Miss Jeffrey at home; but she is a poor girl whose enjoyments
are far less than ours, consequently I invited her for
this once, knowing how fond she is of riding.”

“How thoughtful you are of other people's happiness!”
said Maggie, the shadow leaving her brow at once.

“I am glad that wrinkle has gone, at all events,” returned
Mr. Carrollton, laughingly, and laying his hand upon her
forehead, he continued: “Were you my sister Helen, I
should probably kiss you for having so soon got over your
pet; but as you are Maggie Miller, I dare not,” and he
looked earnestly at her, to see if he had spoken the truth.

Coloring crimson as it became the affianced bride of
Henry Warner to do, Maggie turned away, thinking Helen
must be a happy girl, and half wishing she, too, were
Arthur Carrollton's sister. It was a long, delightful excursion
they took, and Maggie, when she saw how Anna Jeffrey
enjoyed it, did not altogether regret her presence. On their
way home she proposed calling upon Hagar, “whom she had
not seen for three whole days.”

“And who, pray, is Hagar?” asked Mr. Carrollton; and
Maggie replied, “She is my old nurse,—a strange, crazy
creature, whom they say I somewhat resemble.”

[figure description] Page 355.[end figure description]

By this time they were near the cottage, in the door of
which old Hagar was standing, with her white hair falling
round her face.

“I see by your looks, you don't care to call, but I shall,”
said Maggie, and bounding from her saddle, she ran up to
Hagar, pressing her hand and whispering in her ear, that it
would soon be time to hear from Henry.

“Kissed her, I do believe!” said Anna Jeffrey. “She
must have admirable taste!”

Mr. Carrollton thought so too, and with a half comical,
half displeased expression, he watched the interview between
that weird old woman, and fair young girl, little
suspecting how nearly they were allied.

“Why didn't you come and speak to her?” said Maggie,
as he alighted to assist her in again mounting Gritty. “She
used to see you in England, when you were a baby, and if
you won't be angry, I'll tell you what she said, it was, that
you were the crossest, ugliest young one she ever saw!
There, there, don't set me down so hard!” and the saucy
eyes looked mischievously at the proud Englishman, who,
truth to say, did place her in the saddle with a little more
force than was at all necessary.

Not that he was angry. He was only annoyed for what
he considered Maggie's undue familiarity with a person like
Hagar, but he wisely forbore making any comments in Anna
Jeffrey's presence, except, indeed, to laugh heartily at Hagar's
complimentary description of himself when a baby.
Arrived at home, and alone again with Maggie, he found
her so very good-natured and agreeable, that he could not
chide her for anything, and Hagar was for a time forgotten.

That evening, as the reader knows, they went together to
the depot, where they waited four long hours, but not impatiently;
for sitting there in the moonlight, with the winding

[figure description] Page 356.[end figure description]

Chicopee full in view, and Margaret Miller at his side, Arthur
Carrollton forgot the lapse of time, especially when
Maggie, thinking no harm, gave a most ludicrous description
of her call upon Mrs. Douglas senior, and of her grandmother's
distress at finding herself so nearly connected with
what she termed “a low, vulgar family.”

Arthur Carrollton was very proud, and had Theo been his
sister, he might, to some extent, have shared in Madam
Conway's chagrin; and so he said to Maggie, at the same
time fully agreeing with her that George Douglas was a refined,
agreeable man, and as such entitled to respect. Still,
had Theo known of his parentage, he said, it would probably
have made some difference; but now that it could not be
helped, it was wise to make the best of it.

These words were little heeded then by Maggie, but with
most painful distinctness they recurred to her in the after
time, when, humbled in the very dust, she had no hope that
the highborn, haughty Carrollton would stoop to a child of
Hagar Warren! But no shadow of the dark future was
over her now; and very eagerly she drank in every word and
look of Arthur Carrollton, who, all unconsciously, was trampling
on another's rights, and gradually weakening the fancied
love she bore for Henry Warner.

The arrival of the train brought their pleasant conversation
to a close, and for a day or two Maggie's time was
wholly occupied with her grandmother, to whom she frankly
acknowledged having told Mr. Carrollton of Mrs. Douglas
and her daughter Betsey Jane. The fact that he knew of
her disgrace and did not despise her was of great benefit to
Madam Conway, and after a few days she resumed her usual
spirits, and actually told of the remarks made by Mrs. Douglas
concerning herself and the fight she had been in! As
time passed on she became reconciled to the Douglases,

[figure description] Page 357.[end figure description]

having, as she thought, some well-founded reasons for believing
that for Theo's disgrace, Maggie would make amends by
marrying Mr. Carrollton, whose attentions each day became
more and more marked, and were not apparently altogether
disagreeable to Maggie. On the contrary, his presence at
Hillsdale was productive of much pleasure to her, as well as
of a little annoyance.

From the first he seemed to exercise over her an influence
she could not well resist—a power to make her do whatever
he willed that she should do; and though she sometimes rebelled,
she was pretty sure in the end to yield the contest,
and submit to one who was evidently the ruling spirit. As
yet nothing had been said of the hair ornament which, out
of compliment to him, her grandmother wore every morning
in her collar, but at last, one day Madam Conway spoke of
it herself, asking “if it were, as she had supposed, his grandmother's
hair?”

“Why, no,” he answered involuntarily; “it is a lock
Maggie sent me in that wonderful daguerreotype!”

“The stupid thing!” thought Maggie, while her eyes
fairly danced with merriment, as she anticipated the question
she fancied was sure to follow, but did not.

One glance at her tell-tale face was sufficient for Madam
Conway. In her whole household there was but one head
with locks as white as that, and whatever her thoughts
might have been, she said nothing, but from that day forth,
Hagar's hair was never again seen ornamenting her person!
That afternoon Mr. Carrollton and Maggie went out to ride,
and in the course of their conversation he referred to the
pin, asking whose hair it was and seeming much amused
when told that it was Hagar's.

“But why did you not tell her when it first came,” he
said; and Maggie answered, “Oh, it was such fun to see her

[figure description] Page 358.[end figure description]

sporting Hagar's hair, when she is so proud. It didn't hurt
her either, for Hagar is as good as anybody. I don't believe
in making such a difference because one person chances to
be richer than another.”

“Neither do I,” returned Mr. Carrollton. “I would not
esteem a person for wealth alone, but there are points of
difference which should receive consideration. For instance,
this old Hagar may be well enough in her way, but suppose
she were nearly connected to you—your grandmother if you
like—it would certainly make some difference in your position.
You would not be Maggie Miller, and I”—

“Wouldn't ride with me, I dare say,” interrupted Maggie;
to which he replied, “I presume not,” adding as he saw
slight indications of pouting, “and therefore I am glad you
are Maggie Miller, and not Hagar's grandchild.”

Mentally pronouncing him a “proud hateful thing,” Maggie
rode on a while in silence. But Mr. Carrollton knew well
how to manage her, and he, too, was silent until Maggie,
who could never refrain from talking any length of time,
forgot herself and began chatting away as gaily as before.
During their excursion they came near to the gorge of
Henry Warner memory, and Maggie, who had never
quite forgiven Mr Carrollton for criticising her horsemanship,
resolved to show him what she could do. The signal was
accordingly given to Gritty, and ere her companion was aware
of her intention she was tearing over the ground at a speed
he could hardly equal. The ravine was just on the border
of the wood, and without pausing an instant, Gritty leaped
across it, landing safely on the other side, where he stopped,
while half fearfully, half exultingly, Maggie looked back to
see what Mr. Carrollton would do. At first he had fancied
Gritty beyond her control, and when he saw her directly
over the deep chasm he shuddered, involuntarily stretching

[figure description] Page 359.[end figure description]

out his arms to save her; but the look she gave him as she
turned around, convinced him that the risk she had run was
done on purpose. Still he had no intention of following her,
for he feared his horse's ability as well as his own to clear
that pass.

“Why don't you jump? Are you afraid?” and Maggie's
eyes looked archly out from beneath her tasteful riding
cap.

For half a moment he felt tempted to join her, but
his better judgment came to his aid, and he answered,
“Yes, Maggie, I am afraid, having never tried such an experiment.
But I wish to be with you in some way, and as I
cannot come to you, I ask you to come to me. You seem
accustomed to the leap!”

He did not praise her. Nay, she fancied there was more
of censure in the tones of his voice; at all events, he had
asked her rather commandingly to return, and “she
wouldn't do it.” For a moment she made no reply, and he
said again, “Maggie, will you come?” then half playfully,
half reproachfully, she made answer, “A gallant Englishman
indeed! willing I should risk my neck where you dare
not venture yours. No, I shan't try the leap again to-day,
I don't feel like it; but I'll cross the long bridge half a
mile from here—good bye,” and fully expecting him to meet
her, she galloped off, riding, ere long, quite slowly, “so he'd
have a nice long time to wait for her!”

How then was she disappointed, when, on reaching the
bridge, there was nowhere a trace of him to be seen,
neither could she hear the sound of his horse's footsteps,
though she listened long and anxiously.

“He is certainly the most provoking man I ever saw;”
she exclaimed, half crying with vexation. “Henry wouldn't
have served me so, and I'm glad I was engaged to him

[figure description] Page 360.[end figure description]

before I saw this hateful Carrollton, for grandma might possibly
have coaxed me into marrying him, and then wouldn't
Mr. Dog and Mrs. Cat have led a stormy life! No, we
wouldn't,” she continued; “I should in time get accustomed
to minding him, and then I think he'd be splendid, though
no better than Henry. I wonder if Hagar has a letter for
me!” and chirruping to Gritty, she soon stood at the door
of the cabin.

“Have you two been qarrelling?” asked Hagar, noticing
Mag's flushed cheeks. “Mr. Carrollton passed here twenty
minutes, or more, ago, looking mighty sober, and here you
are with your face as red—What has happened?”

“Nothing,” answered Mag, a little testily, “only he's the
meanest man!—Wouldn't follow me, when I leaped the
gorge, and I know he could, if he had tried.”

“Showed his good sense,” interrupted Hagar, adding that
Maggie mustn't think every man was going to risk his neck
for her.

“I don't think so, of course,” returned Maggie; “but he
might act better—almost commanded me to come back and
join him, as though I was a little child; but I wouldn't do
it. I told him I'd go down to the long bridge and cross,
expecting, of course, he'd meet me there; and instead of
that, he has gone off home. How did he know what accident
would befall me?”

“Accident!” repeated Hagar; “accident befall you,
who know every crook and turn of these woods so much
better than he does?”

“Well, any way, he might have waited for me,” returned
Mag. “I don't believe he'd care if I were to get killed. I
mean to scare him and see;” and springing from Gritty's
back, she gave a peculiar whistling sound, at which the
pony bounded away towards home while she followed Hagar

[figure description] Page 361.[end figure description]

into the cottage, where a letter from Henry awaited
her.

They were to sail for Cuba on the 15th of October, and
he now wrote, asking if Maggie would go without her
grandmother's consent. But, though irresolute when he
before broached the subject, Mag was decided now. “She
would not run away,” and so she said to Hagar, to whom
she confided the whole affair.

“I do not think it would be right to elope,” she said.
“In three years more, I shall be twenty-one, and free to do
as I like; and if grandma will not let me marry Henry,
now, he must wait. I can't run away. Rose would not
approve of it, I'm sure, and I 'most know Mr. Carrollton
would not.”

“I can't see how his approving, or not approving can
affect you,” said Hagar; then bending down, so that her
wild eyes looked full in Maggie's eyes, she said, “Are you
beginning to like this Englishman?”

“Why, no, I guess I ain't,” answered Mag, coloring
slightly. “I dislike him dreadfully, he's so proud. Why,
he did the same as to say, that if I were your grandchild,
he would not ride with me.”

“My grandchild, Maggie Miller!—my grandchild!”
shrieked Hagar. “What put that into his head?”

Thinking her emotion caused by anger at Arthur Carrollton,
MAg mentally chided herself for having inadvertently
said what she did, while, at the same time, she tried to
soothe old Hagar, who rocked to and fro, as was her custom
when her “crazy spells” were on. Growing a little
more composed, she said, at last, “Marry Henry Warner,
by all means, Maggie; he ain't as proud as Carrollton—he
would not care as much if he knew it.”

“Know what?” asked Mag; and, remembering herself in

[figure description] Page 362.[end figure description]

time, Hagar answered, adroitly, “knew of your promise to
let me live with you. You remember it, don't you?” and
she looked wistfully towards Mag, who, far more intent
upon something else, answered, “Yes, I remember. But
hush! don't I hear horses' feet coming rapidly through the
woods?” and running to the window, she saw Mr. Carrollton,
mounted upon Gritty, and riding furiously towards the house.

“You go out, Hagar, and see if he is looking for me,”
whispered Mag, stepping back, so he could not see.

“Henry Warner must snare the bird quick, or he will
lose it,” muttered Hagar, as she walked to the door, where,
evidently much excited, Mr. Carrollton asked if “she knew
aught of Miss Miller, and why Gritty had come home alone?
It is such an unusual occurrence,” said he, “that we felt
alarmed, and I have come in quest of her.”

From her post near the window, Maggie could plainly see
his face, which was very pale, and expressive of much concern,
while his voice, she fancied, trembled as he spoke her
name.

“He does care,” she thought; woman's pride was satisfied,
and ere Hagar could reply, she ran out saying laughingly,
“And so you thought maybe I was killed, but I'm
not. I concluded to walk home and let Gritty go on in advance.
I did not mean to frighten grandma.”

“She was not as much alarmed as myself,” said Mr. Carrollton,
the troubled expression of his countenance changing
at once. “You do not know how anxious I was, when I
saw Gritty come riderless to the door, nor yet how relieved
I am in finding you thus unharmed.”

Maggie knew she did not deserve this, and blushing like a
guilty child, she offered no resistance when he lifted her in
the saddle gently—tenderly, as if she had indeed escaped
from some great danger.

[figure description] Page 363.[end figure description]

“It is time you were home,” said he, and throwing the
bridle across his arm, he rested his hand upon the saddle
and walked slowly by her side.

All his fancied coldness was forgotten; neither was the
leap nor yet the bridge once mentioned, for he was only too
happy in having her back alive, while she was doubting the
propriety of an experiment which, in the turn matters had
taken, seemed to involve deception. Observing at last that
he occasionally pressed his hand upon his side, she asked
the cause, and was told that he had formerly been subject
to a pain in his side, which excitement or fright greatly
augmented. “I hoped I was free from it,” he said, “but
the sight of Gritty dashing up to the door without you,
brought on a slight attack; for I knew if you were harmed,
the fault was mine for having rather unceremoniously
deserted you.”

This was more than Mag could endure in silence. The
frank ingenuousness of her nature prevailed, and turning towards
him her dark, beautiful eyes, in which tears were
shining, she said: “Forgive me, Mr. Carrollton. I sent
Gritty home on purpose to see if you would be annoyed, for
I felt vexed because you would not humor my whim and
meet me at the bridge. I am sorry I caused you any uneasiness,”
she continued, as she saw a shadow flit over his face.
“Will you forgive me?”

Arthur Carrollton could not resist the pleading of those
lustrous eyes, nor yet refuse to take the ungloved hand she
offered him; and if, in token of reconciliation, he did press
it a little more fervently than Henry Warner would have
thought at all necessary, he only did what, under the circumstances,
it was very natural he should do. From the
first Maggie Miller had been a puzzle to Arthur Carrollton;
but he was fast learning to read her—was beginning to

[figure description] Page 364.[end figure description]

understand how perfectly artless she was—and this little incident
increased, rather than diminished, his admiration.

“I will forgive you, Maggie,” he said, on one condition.
“You must promise never again to experiment with my
feelings, in a similar manner.”

The promise was readily given and then they proceeded
on as leisurely as if at home, there was no anxious grandmother
vibrating between her high-backed chair and the
piazza, nor yet an Anna Jeffrey, watching them enviously as
they came slowly up the road.

That night there came to Mr. Carrollton a letter from
Montreal, saying his immediate presence was necessary there,
on a business matter of some importance, and he accordingly
decided to go on the morrow.

“When may we expect you back?” asked Madam Conway,
as in the morning he was preparing for his journey.

“It will, perhaps, be two months at least, before I
return,” said he, adding that there was a possibility of his
being obliged to go immediately to England.

In the recess of the window Mag was standing, thinking
how lonely the house would be without him, and wishing
there was no such thing as parting from those she liked—
even as little as she did Arthur Carrollton.

“I won't let him know that I care, though,” she thought,
and forcing a smile to her face, she was about turning to
bid him good bye, when she heard him tell her grandmother
of the possibility there was that he would be obliged to go
directly to England from Montreal.

“Then I may never see him again,” she thought, and her
tears burst forth involuntarily, at the idea of parting with
him forever.

Faster and faster they came, until at last, fearing lest he
should see them, she ran away up stairs, and mounting to

[figure description] Page 365.[end figure description]

the roof, sat down behind the chimney, where, herself unobserved,
she could watch him far up the road. From the
half-closed door of her chamber, Anna Jeffrey had seen Mag
stealing up the tower stairs; had seen, too, that she was
weeping, and suspecting the cause, she went quietly down to
the parlor to hear what Arthur Carrollton would say. The
carriage was waiting, his trunk was in its place, his hat was
in his hand; to Madam Conway he said good bye; to
Anna Jeffrey, too, and still he lingered, looking wistfully
round in quest of something, which evidently was not
there.

“Where's Margaret?” he asked at last, and Madam Conway
answered, “surely, where can she be? Have you seen
her, Anna?”

“I saw her on the stairs some time ago,” said Anna,
adding that possibly she had gone to see Hagar, as she
usually visited her at this hour.

A shade of disappointment passed over Mr. Carrollton's
face, as he replied, “tell her I am sorry she thinks more of
Hagar than of me.”

The next moment he was gone, and leaning against the
chimney, Mag watched with tearful eyes the carriage as it
wound up the grassy road. On the brow of the hill, just
before it would disappear from sight, it suddenly stopped.
Something was the matter with the harness, and while John
was busy adjusting it, Mr. Carrollton leaned from the window,
and looking back, started involuntarily as he caught
sight of the figure so clearly defined upon the house-top. A
slight suspicion of the truth came upon him, and kissing his
hand, he waved it gracefully towards her. Mag's handkerchief
was wet with tears, but she shook it out in the morning
breeze, and sent to Arthur Carrollton, as she thought,
her last good bye.

[figure description] Page 366.[end figure description]

Fearing lest her grandmother should see her swollen eyes,
she stole down the stairs, and taking her shawl and bonnet
from the table in the hall, ran off into the woods, going to
a pleasant, mossy bank, not far from Hagar's cottage, where
she had more than once sat with Arthur Carrollton, and
where she fancied she would never sit with him again.

“I don't believe it's for him, that I am crying,” she
thought, as she tried in vain to stay her tears; “I always
intended to hate him, and I 'most know I do; I'm only feeling
badly, because I won't run away, and Henry and Rose
will go without me so soon!” And fully satisfied at having
discovered the real cause of her grief, she laid her head
upon the bright autumnal grass, and wept bitterly, holding
her breath, and listening intently as she heard, in the distance,
the sound of the engine, which was bearing Mr. Carrollton
away.

It did not occur to her that he could not yet have
reached the depot, and as she knew nothing of a change in
the time of the trains, she was taken wholly by surprise,
when, fifteen minutes later, a manly form bent over her, as
she lay upon the bank, and a voice, earnest and thrilling in
tones, murmured softly, “Maggie, are those tears for me?”

When about halfway to the station, Mr. Carrollton had
heard of the change of the time, and knowing he should not
be in season, had turned back, with the intention of waiting
for the next train, which would pass in a few hours. Learning
that Maggie was in the woods, he had started in quest
of her, going naturally to the mossy bank, where, as we
have seen, he found her weeping on the grass. She was
weeping for him—he was sure of that. He was not indifferent
to her, as he had sometimes feared, and for an instant
he felt tempted to take her in his arms and tell her how dear
she was to him.

[figure description] Page 367.[end figure description]

“I will speak to her first,” he thought, and so he asked
“if the tears were for him.”

Inexpressibly astonished and mortified at having him see
her thus, Maggie started to her feet, while angry words at
being thus intruded upon, trembled on her lips. But winding
his arm around her, Mr. Carrollton drew her to his side,
explaining to her in a few words how he came to be there,
and continuing, “I do not regret the delay, if by its means
I have discovered what I very much wish to know. Maggie,
do you care for me? Were you weeping because I had
left you?”

He drew her very closely to him—looking anxiously into
her face, which she covered with her hands. She knew he
was in earnest, and the knowledge that he loved her thrilled
her for an instant with indescribable happiness. A moment,
however, and thoughts of her engagement with another
flashed upon her. “She must not sit there thus with Arthur
Carrollton—she would be true to Henry,” and with
mingled feelings of sorrow, regret and anger—though why
she should experience either she did not then understand—
she drew herself from him, and when he said again, “Will
Maggie answer? Are those tears for me?” she replied petulantly,
“No; can't a body cry without being bothered for a
reason? I came down here to be alone?”

“I did not mean to intrude, and I beg your pardon for
having done so,” said Mr. Carrollton, sadly, adding, as Maggie
made no reply, “I expected a different answer, Maggie;
I almost hoped you liked me, and I believe now that you
do.”

In Maggie's bosom there was a fierce struggle of feeling.
She did like Arthur Carrollton—and she thought she liked
Henry Warner—at all events she was engaged to him, and
half angry at the former for having disturbed her, and still

[figure description] Page 368.[end figure description]

more angry at herself for being thus distrubed, she exclaimed
as he again placed his arm around her, “Leave me alone,
Mr. Carrollton. I don't like you. I don't like anybody!”
and gathering up her shawl, which lay upon the grass, she
ran away to Hagar's cabin, hoping he would follow her.
But he did not. It was his first attempt at love-making,
and very much disheartened, he walked slowly back to the
house; and while Maggie, from Hagar's door, was looking
to see if he were coming, he, from the parlor window, was
watching, too, for her, with a shadow on his brow and a load
upon his heart. Madam Conway knew that something was
wrong, but it was in vain that she sought an explanation.
Mr. Carrollton kept his own secret, and consoling herself with
his volunteered assurance that in case it became necessary
for him to return to England, he should, before embarking,
visit Hillsdale, she bade him a second adieu.

In the meantime, Maggie, having given up all hopes of
again seeing Mr. Carrollton, was waiting impatiently the
coming of Hagar, who was absent, having, as Maggie
readily conjectured, gone to Richland. It was long past
noon when she returned, and by that time the stains had
disappeared from Maggie's face, which looked nearly as
bright as ever. Still, it was with far less eagerness than
usual that she took from Hagar's hand the expected letter
from Henry. It was a long, affectionate epistle, urging her
once more to accompany him, and saying if she still refused
she must let him know immediately, as they were intending
to start for New York in a few days.

“I can't go,” said Maggie; “it would not be right.”
And going to the time-worn desk, where, since her secret
correspondence, she had kept materials for writing, she
wrote to Henry a letter, telling him she felt badly to disappoint
him, but she deemed it much wiser to defer their

[figure description] Page 369.[end figure description]

marriage until her grandmother felt differently, or at least until
she was at an age to act for herself. This being done, she
went slowly back to the house, which to her seemed desolate
indeed. Her grandmother saw readily that something was
the matter, and rightly guessing the cause, she forebore
questioning her, neither did she once that day mention Mr.
Carrollton, although Anna Jeffrey did, telling her what he
had said about her “thinking more of Hagar than of himself,”
and giving as her opinion that he was much displeased
at her rudeness in running away.

“Nobody cares for his displeasure,” answered Maggie,
greatly vexed at Anna, who took especial delight in annoying
her.

Thus a week went by, when one evening, as Madam Conway
and Maggie sat together in the parlor, they were surprised
by the sudden appearance of Henry Warner. He
had accompanied his aunt and sister to New York, where
they were to remain for a few days, and then impelled by a
strong desire to see Margaret once more, he had come with
the vain hope that at the last hour she would consent to fly
with him, or her grandmother consent to give her up. All
the afternoon he had been at Hagar's cottage waiting for
Maggie, and at length determining to see her, he had ventured
to the house. With a scowling frown, Madam Conway
looked at him through her glasses, while Maggie, half
joyfully, half fearfully, went forward to meet him. In a few
words he explained why he was there, and then again asked
of Madam Conway if Margaret could go.

“I do not believe she cares to go,” thought Madam Conway,
as she glanced at Maggie's face; but she did not say
so, lest she should awaken within the young girl a feeling
of opposition.

She had watched Maggie closely, and felt sure that her

[figure description] Page 370.[end figure description]

affection for Henry Warner was neither deep nor lasting.
Arthur Carrollton's presence had done much towards weakening
it, and a few months more would suffice to wear it
away entirely. Still, from what had passed, she fancied that
opposition alone would only make the matter worse by rousing
Maggie at once. She knew far more of human nature
than either of the young people before her; and after a
little reflection, she suggested that Henry should leave Maggie
with her for a year, during which time no communication
whatever should pass between them, while she would
promise faithfully not to influence Margaret either way.

“If at the end of the year,” said she, “you both retain
for each other the feelings you have now, I will no longer
object to the marriage, but will make the best of it.”

At first, Henry spurned at the proposition, and when he
saw that Margaret thought well of it, he reproached her
with a want of feeling, saying “she did not love him as she
had once done.”

“I shall not forget you, Henry,” said Maggie, coming to
his side and taking his hand in hers, “neither will you forget
me; and when the year has passed away, only think
how much pleasanter it will be for us to be married here at
home, with grandma's blessing on our union!”

“If I only knew you would prove true!” said Henry,
who missed something in Maggie's manner.

“I do mean to prove true,” she answered sadly, though
at that moment another face, another form, stood between
her and Henry Warner, who, knowing that Madam Conway
would not suffer her to go with him on any terms, concluded
at last to make a virtue of necessity, and accordingly expressed
his willingness to wait, provided Margaret were allowed
to write occasionally either to himself or Rose.

But to this Madam Conway would not consent. “She

[figure description] Page 371.[end figure description]

wished the test to be perfect,” she said, “and unless he accepted
her terms, he must give Maggie up, at once and forever.”

As there seemed no alternative, Henry rather ungraciously
yielded the point, promising to leave Maggie free for a year,
while she, too, promised not to write either to him or to
Rose, except with her grandmother's consent. Maggie
Miller's word once passed, Madam Conway knew it would
not be broken, and she unhesitatingly left the young people
together while they said their parting words. A message
of love from Maggie to Rose—a hundred protestations of
eternal fidelity, and then they parted; Henry, sad and disappointed,
slowly wending his way back to the spot where
Hagar impatiently awaited his coming, while Maggie, leaning
from her chamber window, and listening to the sound
of his retreating footsteps, brushed away a tear, wondering
the while why it was that she felt so relieved.

p594-373

Previous section

Next section