ntime Margaret had come near, and, knowing she could not
now reach the depot in time, she mingled unobserved in the crowd, and
entering the rear car, took her seat near the door. The train at last
moved on, and as at the station no one save the agent was in waiting,
it is not strange that the conductor passed unheeded the veiled figure
which in the dark corner sat ready to pay her fare.

"He will come to me by and by," thought Maggie, but he did not, and
when Worcester was reached the fare was still uncollected. Bewildered
and uncertain what to do next, she stepped upon the platform, deciding
finally to remain at the depot until morning, when a train would leave
for Leominster, where she confidently expected to find her brother.
Taking a seat in the ladies' room, she abandoned herself to her
sorrow, wondering what Theo would say could she see her then. But
Theo, though dreaming it may be of Maggie, dreamed not that she was
near, and so the night wore on, Margaret sleeping towards daylight,
and dreaming, too, of Arthur Carrollton, who she thought had followed
her--nay, was bending over her now and whispering in her ear, "Wake,
Maggie, wake."

Starting up, she glanced anxiously around, uttering a faint cry when
she saw that it was not Arthur Carrollton, but a dark, rough-looking
stranger, who rather rudely asked her where she wished to go.

"To Leominster," she answered, turning her face fully towards the man,
who became instantly respectful, telling her when the train would
leave, and saying that she must go to another depot, at the same time
asking if she had not better wait at some hotel.

But Maggie preferred going at once to the Fitchburg depot, which she
accordingly did, and drawing her veil over her face, lest some one of
her few acquaintances in the city should recognize her, she sat there
until the time appointed for the cars to leave. Then, weary and faint,
she entered the train, her spirits in a measure rising as she felt
that she was drawing near to those who would love her for what she was
and not for what she had been. Rose would comfort her, and already her
heart bounded with the thought of seeing one whom she believed to be
her brother's wife, for Henry had written that ere his homeward voyage
was made Rose would be his bride.

Ah, Maggie! there is for you a greater happiness in store--not a
brother, but a sister--your father's child is there to greet your
coming. And even at this early hour her snow-