e
would be obliged to go directly to England from Montreal.

"Then I may never see him again," she thought; and the 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 upstairs, and, mounting to 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 Maggie 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-by, 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 Maggie
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 housetop. A slight suspicion of the truth
came upon him, and kissing his hand he waved it gracefully towards
her. Maggie'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-by.

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 alway