Maggie, who thought only of consumption, like an echo from the grave.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" she answered sadly, and her eyes filled with
tears, which she did not try to conceal, for looking through the
window across the snow-clad field, on which the winter moon was
shining, she saw instinctively another grave beside that of her
mother.

Madam Conway had not yet appeared, and, as Anna Jeffrey just then
left the room, Mr. Carrollton was for some moments alone with Maggie.
Winding his arm around her waist, and giving her a most expressive
look, he said, "Maggie, are those tears for me?"

Instantly the bright blushes stole over Maggie's face and neck, for
she remembered the time when once before he had asked her a similar
question. Not now, as then, did she turn away from 'him, but she
answered frankly: "Yes, they are. You look so pale and thin, I'm sure
you must be very ill."

Whether Mr. Carrollton liked "blowsy" complexions or not, he certainly
admired Maggie's at that moment, and drawing her closer to his side,
he said, half playfully, half earnestly: "To see you thus anxious for
me, Maggie, more than atones for your waywardness when last we parted.
You are forgiven, but you are unnecessarily alarmed. I shall be better
soon. Hillsdale air will do me good, and I intend remaining here until
I am well again. Will you nurse me, Maggie, just as my sister Helen
would do were she here?"

The right chord was touched, and all the soft, womanly qualities
of Maggie Miller's nature were called forth by Arthur Carrollton's
failing health. For several weeks after his arrival at Hillsdale he
was a confirmed invalid, lying all day upon the sofa in the parlor,
while Maggie read to him from books which he selected, partly for the
purpose of amusing himself, and more for the sake of benefiting her
and improving her taste for literature. At other times he would tell
her of his home beyond the sea, and Maggie, listening to him while
he described its airy halls, its noble parks, its shaded walks, and
musical fountains, would sometimes wish aloud that she might one day
see that spot which seemed to her so much like paradise. He wished
so too, and oftentimes when, with half-closed eyes, his mind was
wandering amid the scenes of his youth, he saw at his side a queenly
figure with features like those of Maggie Miller, who each day was
stealing more and more into his heart, where love for other than his
nearest friends had never before fou