Guy did not look at Maddy. He only knew that her head moved out from beneath his hand as he replied: “To Miss Atherstone—Miss Lucy Atherstone. Have you never heard of her?” No, Maddy never had, and with that same numbness she could not understand, she listened while Guy told her who Lucy Atherstone was, and why she was not at that moment the mistress of Aikenside. There was no reason why Guy should be excited, but he was, and he talked very rapidly, never once glancing at Maddy until he had finished speaking. She was looking at him intently, wondering if he could hear as she did the beatings of her heart. Had her life depended upon it, she could not at first have spoken, for the numbness which, like bands of steel, seemed to press all the feeling out of it. She did not know why it was that hearing of Lucy Atherstone should affect her so. Surely she ought to be glad for Guy that he possessed the love of so sweet a creature as he described her to be. He was glad, she knew, he talked so energetically—so much as if it were a pleasure to talk; and she was glad, too, only it had taken her so by surprise to know that Mr. Guy, whom she had rather considered as exclusively her own and Jessie’s was engaged, and that some time, before long it might be, Aikenside would really have a mistress. She did not quite understand Guy’s last words, although she was looking at him, and he asked her twice if she would like to see Lucy’s picture ere she comprehended what he meant. “Yes,” came faintly from the parted lips, about which there was a slight quiver as she put up her hand to take the case Guy drew from his bosom. Turning it to the light she gazed silently upon the sweet young face, which seemed to return her gaze with a look as earnest and lifelike as her own. “What do you think of her—of my Lucy? Is she not pretty?” Guy asked, bending down so that his dark hair swept against Maddy’s, while his warm breath touched her burning cheeks. “Yes, she’s beautiful, oh! so beautiful, and happy, too. I wish I had been like her. I wish—” and Maddy burst into a most uncontrollable fit of weeping, her tears dropping like rain upon the inanimate features of Lucy Atherstone. Guy looked at her amazed, his own heart throbbing with a keen pang of something undefinable as he listened to her stormy weeping. What did ail her? he wondered. Could it be that the evil against which he was providing had really come upon her? Was Maddy more interested in him than he supposed? He hoped not, though with a man’s vanity he felt a slight thrill of satisfaction in thinking that it might be so. Guy knew this feeling was not worthy of him, and he struggled to cast it off, while he asked Maddy why she cried. Child as she was, the real cause of her tears never entered her brain, and she answered: “I can’t tell why, unless I was thinking how different Miss Atherstone is from me. She’s rich and handsome. I am poor and homely, and—” “No, Maddy, you are not;” and Guy interrupted her.