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 Betsy 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, 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 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 hav