usual billing and
cooing of lovers in a simple and much less than final fashion; and the
lovely horseback rides together under the green trees of the approaching
spring were idyllic. Cowperwood awakened to a sense of joy in life such
as he fancied, in the blush of this new desire, he had never experienced
before. Lillian had been lovely in those early days in which he had
first called on her in North Front Street, and he had fancied himself
unspeakably happy at that time; but that was nearly ten years since,
and he had forgotten. Since then he had had no great passion, no notable
liaison; and then, all at once, in the midst of his new, great business
prosperity, Aileen. Her young body and soul, her passionate illusions.
He could see always, for all her daring, that she knew so little of the
calculating, brutal world with which he was connected. Her father had
given her all the toys she wanted without stint; her mother and brothers
had coddled her, particularly her mother. Her young sister thought she
was adorable. No one imagined for one moment that Aileen would ever do
anything wrong. She was too sensible, after all, too eager to get up
in the world. Why should she, when her life lay open and happy before
her--a delightful love-match, some day soon, with some very eligible and
satisfactory lover?

"When you marry, Aileen," her mother used to say to her, "we'll have a
grand time here. Sure we'll do the house over then, if we don't do it
before. Eddie will have to fix it up, or I'll do it meself. Never fear."

"Yes--well, I'd rather you'd fix it now," was her reply.

Butler himself used to strike her jovially on the shoulder in a rough,
loving way, and ask, "Well, have you found him yet?" or "Is he hanging
around the outside watchin' for ye?"

If she said, "No," he would reply: "Well, he will be, never fear--worse
luck. I'll hate to see ye go, girlie! You can stay here as long as ye
want to, and ye want to remember that you can always come back."

Aileen paid very little attention to this bantering. She loved her
father, but it was all such a matter of course. It was the commonplace
of her existence, and not so very significant, though delightful enough.

But how eagerly she yielded herself to Cowperwood under the spring trees
these days! She had no sense of that ultimate yielding that was coming,
for now he merely caressed and talked to her. He was a little doubtful
about himself. His growing liberties for himself