him with its leaden weight. But as the child he petted developed daily
toward womanhood, he became interested, then fascinated by the
process. Her beauty was so brilliant, her excessive sprightliness so
contagious, that he felt his sluggish pulses stir and tingle with
excitement the moment he came into her presence. Her wild, varying
moods kept him constantly on the _qui vive_, and he would say in
confidence to one of his intimate cronies:

"The point is, Hal, she is such a spicy, piquant contrast to the
insipid society girls, who have no more individuality than fashion
blocks in Broadway windows."

He liked the kittenish young creature all the more because her
repartee was often a little cutting. If she had always struck him with
a velvet paw, the thing would have grown monotonous, but he
occasionally got a scratch that made him wince, cool and brazen as he
was. But, after all, he daily saw that he was gaining power over her,
and the manner in which the frank-hearted girl took his arm and leaned
upon it spoke volumes to the experienced man. While he habitually wore
a mask, Zell could conceal nothing, and across her April face flitted
her innermost thoughts.

If she had had a _mother_, she might, even in the wilderness of earth,
have become a blossom fit for heavenly gardens, but as it was, her
wayward nature, so full of dangerous beauty, was left to run wild.

Edith was beginning to be troubled at Zell's intimacy with Mr. Van
Dam, and to conceive a growing dislike for him mingled with suspicion.
As for Laura, the eldest, she was like her mother, too much wrapped up
in herself to have many thoughts for any one else, and they all