om, where he paused an instant,
bewildered with the glare of light and the display of pictures,
mirrors, tapestry, rosewood, and marble, which met his view.

Mrs. Berkley, Maude Glendower's aunt, had stinted herself to gratify
her niece's whims, and their surroundings had always been of the
most expensive kind, so it was not strange that Dr. Kennedy,
accustomed only to ingrain carpet and muslin curtains, was dazzled
by so much elegance. With a well-feigned start the lady arose to her
feet, and going to his side offered him her hand, saying, "You are
Dr. Kennedy, I am sure. I should have known you anywhere, for you
are but little changed."

She meant to flatter his self-love, though, thanks to Maude
Remington for having insisted upon the broadcloth suit, he looked
remarkably well.

"She had not changed at all," he said, and the admiring gaze he
fixed upon her argued well for her success. It becomes us not to
tell how that strange wooing sped. Suffice it to say that at the
expiration of an hour Maude Glendower had promised to be the wife of
Dr. Kennedy when another spring should come. She had humbled herself
to say that she regretted her girlish freak, and he had so far
unbent his dignity as to say that he could not understand why she
should be willing to leave the luxuries which surrounded her and go
with him, a plain, old-fashioned man. Maude Glendower scorned to
make him think that it was love which actuated her, and she replied,
"Now that my aunt is dead, I have no natural protector. I am alone
and want a home."

"But mine is so different," he said. "There are no silk curtains
there, no carpets such as this--"

"Is Maude Remington there?" the lady asked, and in her large black
eyes there was a dewy tenderness, as she pronounced that name.

"Maude Remington!--yes," the doctor answered. "Where did you hear of
her? My sister told you, I suppose. Yes, Maude is there. She has
lived with me ever since her mother died. You would have liked
Matty, I think," and the doctor felt a glow of satisfaction in
having thus paid a tribute to the memory of his wife.

"Is Maude like her mother?" the lady asked; a glow upon her cheek,
and the expression of her face evincing the interest she felt in the
answer.

"Not at all," returned the doctor. "Matty was blue-eyed and fair,
while Maude is dark, and resembles her father, they say."

The white jeweled hands were clasped together, for a moment, and
then Maude Glendower questio