For it was not as a father he loved her, though he had played a little at fatherhood in the beginning. She was so companionable, they had so many similar tastes. He was so fond of reading to an appreciative listener, and even as he sat in the darkness, when she did not know he was alone in the study, he could see her lovely eyes raised in their tender light. He thought this her unusual wisdom and discernment, never dreaming it had been mostly his training and her receptiveness. And to think of the house without her! Why, going out of it in her wedding gown would be almost as if she had been laid in her shroud and shut away. Of course, he could not have her here and see her love another. Giles Leverett's dream was much happier. In his mind he saved her for his favorite. When Anthony was through--and he was putting in law, with the classics--he would take him in his office, where he would find much business made to his hand. The house was big enough for them all, and he had grown curiously interested in young people. Anthony was very fond of his sweet, fascinating cousin--they all were. He did not know whether there was any one in Salem quite good enough for her. Saltonstall was a rather trifling fellow, whose fancies were evanescent. But Mr. Ed Saltonstall had a good friend in Mrs. Stevens, and she counselled him not to be too ardent in his pursuit. She said pleasant little things about him without any effusiveness. She considered his friendship with her very charming--young men were not generally devoted to middle-aged women. Once she shrewdly wondered why he had not made some errand down. Altogether it was a pleasant visit, though Cynthia kept revolving her duty, if such there was in the case. A blind, mysterious asking for something haunted her, something it would be sad to miss out of her life. Then she came home alone in the stage. There was a property dispute going on, where Mr. Leverett was an important witness for a friend. When the stage stopped, Rachel and Jane both ran out and gave her a joyful welcome. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Cousin Eunice, "we are so glad to get you back. You are the light _of_ the house, isn't she?" glancing at the other. "Even Chilian has been mopey, though I think he isn't well. He is getting thin, too, and goodness knows he had no flesh to lose. Oh, my dear, I hope you will never go away again while I live;" and she gave a long sigh as the girl left the room.