known and liked from boyhood. Henry's first inquiries were naturally
of a business character, and then George Douglas spoke of the young
ladies, saying he was only anxious to see Maggie, for he knew of
course he should dislike the other.

Such, however, is wayward human nature that the fair, pale face, and
quiet, dignified manner of Theo Miller had greater attractions for a
person of George Douglas' peculiar temperament than had the dashing,
brilliant Maggie. There was a resemblance, he imagined, between Theo
and Rose, and this of itself was sufficient to attract him towards
her. Theo, too, was equally pleased; and when, that evening, Madam
Jeffrey faintly interposed her fast-departing authority, telling her
quondam pupils it was time they were asleep, Theo did not, as usual,
heed the warning, but sat very still beneath the vine-wreathed
portico, listening while George Douglas told her of the world which
she had never seen. She was not proud towards him, for he possessed
the charm of money, and as he looked down upon her, conversing with
him so familiarly, he wondered how Henry could have called her cold
and haughty--she was merely dignified, high-bred, he thought; and
George Douglas liked anything which savored of aristocracy.

Meanwhile Henry and Maggie had wandered to a little summer-house,
where, with the bright moonlight falling upon them, they sat together,
but not exactly as of old, for Maggie did not now look up into his
face as she was wont to do, and if she thought his eye was resting
upon her she moved uneasily, while the rich blood deepened on her
cheek. A change has come over Maggie Miller; it is the old story,
too--old to hundreds of thousands, but new to her, the blushing
maiden. Theo calls her nervous--Mrs. Jeffrey calls her sick--the
servants call her mighty queer--while old Hagar, hovering ever near,