into a face which
seemed so heavenly and pure.

Few were the words they uttered at first, for a mysterious, invisible
something prompted each to look into the other's eyes, to clasp the
other's hands, to kiss the other's lips, and lovingly to whisper the
other's name.

"I have wished so much to see you, to know if you are worthy of my
noble brother," said Rose at last, thinking she must say something on
the subject uppermost in both their minds.

"And am I worthy?" asked Maggie, the bright blushes stealing over her
cheek. "Will you let me be your sister?"

"My heart would claim you for that, even though I had no brother,"
answered Rose, and again her lips touched those of Maggie.

Seeing them thus together, Henry tarried purposely a long time, and
when at last he rejoined them he proposed returning to the drawing
room, where many inquiries were making for Maggie.

"I have looked for you a long time, Miss Maggie," said Mr. Carrollton.
"I wish to hear you play;" and, taking her arm in his, he led her to
the piano.

From the moment of her first introduction to him Maggie had felt that
there was something commanding in his manner, something she could not
disobey; and now, though she fancied it was impossible to play before
that multitude, she seated herself mechanically, and while the keys
swam before her eyes, went through with a difficult piece which she
had never but once before executed correctly.

"You have done well; much better than I anticipated," said Mr.
Carrollton, again offering her his arm; and though a little vexed,
those few words of commendation were worth more to Maggie than the
most flattering speech which Henry Warner had ever made to her.

Soon after leaving the piano a young man approached and invited her to
waltz. This was something in which Maggie excelled; for two winters
before Madam Conway had hired a teacher to instruct her granddaughters
in dancing, and she was about to accept the invitation, when, drawing
her arm still closer within his own, Mr. Carrollton looked down upon
her, saying softly, "I wouldn't."

Maggie had often waltzed with Henry at home. He saw no harm in it, and
now when Arthur Carrollton objected, she was provoked, while at the
same time she felt constrained to decline.

"Some time, when I know you better, I will explain to you why I do
not think it proper for young girls to waltz with everyone," said Mr.
Carrollton; and, leading her from the drawing room, he devote