ys she strove to recall the
olden love in vain; for, planted on the sandy soil of childhood, as it
were, it had been outgrown, and would never again spring into life. "I
will write to him exactly how it is," she said at last; "will tell
him that the affection I felt for him could not have been what a wife
should feel for her husband. I was young, had seen nothing of the
world, knew nothing of gentlemen's society, and when he came with his
handsome face and winning ways my interest was awakened. Sympathy,
too, for his misfortune increased that interest, which grandma's
opposition tended in no wise to diminish. But it has died out, that
fancied love, and I cannot bring it back. Still, if he insists, I will
keep my word, and when he comes next autumn I will not tell him 'No.'"

Maggie was very calm when this decision was reached, and opening her
writing desk she wrote just as she said she would, begging him to
forgive her if she had done him wrong, and beseeching Rose to comfort
him as only a sister like her could do. "And remember," she wrote at
the close, "remember that sooner than see you very unhappy, I will
marry you, will try to be a faithful wife; though, Henry, I would
rather not--oh, so much rather not!"

The letter was finished, and then Maggie took it to her grandmother,
who read it eagerly, for in it she saw a fulfillment of her wishes.
Very closely had she watched both Mr. Carrollton and Maggie, readily
divining the truth that something was wrong between them. But from
past experience she deemed it wiser not to interfere directly. Mr.
Carrollton's avowed intention of returning to England, however,
startled her, and she was revolving some method of procedure when
Margaret brought to her the letter.

"I am happier than I can well express," she said, when she had
finished reading it. "Of course you have my permission to send it. But
what has changed you, Maggie? Has another taken the place of Henry
Warner?"

"Don't ask me, grandma," cried Maggie, covering her face with her
hands; "don't ask me, for indeed I can only tell you that I am very
unhappy."

A little skillful questioning on Madam Conway's part sufficed to
explain the whole--how constant association with Arthur Carrollton had
won for him a place in Maggie's heart which Henry Warner had never
filled; how the knowledge that she loved him as she could love no
other one had faintly revealed itself to her on the night when he
asked if she were engaged,