Maggie was about to answer, when her thoughts were directed to another
channel by the sight of George Douglas and Theo coming slowly down the
shaded pathway which led past Hagar's door. Old Hagar saw them too,
and, whispering to Maggie, said, "There's another marriage brewing, or
the signs do not tell true, and madam will sanction this one, too, for
there's money there, and gold can purify any blood."

Ere Maggie could reply Theo called out, "You here, Maggie, as usual?"
adding, aside, to her companion: "She has the most unaccountable
taste, so different from me, who cannot endure anything low and
vulgar. Can you? But I need not ask," she continued, "for your
associations have been of a refined nature."

George Douglas did not answer, for his thoughts were back in the brown
farmhouse at the foot of the hill, where his boyhood was passed, and
he wondered what the high-bred lady at his side would say if she could
see the sunburned man and plain, old-fashioned woman who called him
their son George Washington. He would not confess that he was ashamed
of his parentage, for he tried to be a kind and dutiful child, but he
would a little rather that Theo Miller should not know how democratic
had been his early training. So he made no answer, but, addressing
himself to Maggie, asked how she could find it in her heart to leave
her patient so long.

"I'm going back directly," she said, and donning her hat she started
for home, thinking she had gained but little satisfaction from Hagar,
who, as Douglas and Theo passed on, resumed her seat by the door, and,
listening to the sound of Margaret's retreating footsteps, muttered:
"The old light-heartedness is gone. There are shadows gathering round
her; for once in love, she'll never be as free and joyous again. But