The singing thoughts that ring in the consciousness of a girl who gives for the first time her whole heart to her lover; the chanted prayers to her Maker, that rise with every muted throb of the young wife's heart which is beating for two in anticipation of her first motherhood--who shall dare enumerate them? The varied loving thoughts in this girl's quick brain, which was fed by her young pulsing heart--a heart single in its loyalty to one during all the years since her orphan childhood, were intensified and illumined by the inherent quickening power of a vivid imagination, and inwrought with these two letters that stood, at present, for their owner, Almeda Champney. Aileen's smile grew wonderfully tender, almost tremulous as she continued to lean above her work. Mrs. Champney looking up suddenly caught it and, in part, interpreted it. It angered her both unreasonably and unaccountably. This girl must be taught her place. She aspiring to Champney Googe! She handed her back the work. "Ann said just now she heard Octavius telling you that my nephew, Champney Googe, is in town--when did he come?" "I don't know--Tave didn't say." "I wonder Alice Van Ostend didn't mention that he was coming here before going on the yachting cruise they've planned. I had a letter from her yesterday--I know you'd like to hear it." "Of course I should! It's the first one she has written you, isn't it?--Where is it?" She spoke with her usual animated interest. "I have it here." She took up one of several letters in her lap, opened it, turned it over, adjusted her glasses and began to read a paragraph here and there. Aileen listened eagerly. "I suppose I may as well read it all--Alice wouldn't mind you," said Mrs. Champney, and proceeded to give the full contents. It was filled with anticipations of the yachting cruise, of a later visit to Flamsted, of Champney and her friends. Champney's name occurred many times,--Alice's attitude towards the possessor of it seemed to be that of private ownership,--but everything was written with the frankness of an accepted publicity of the fact that Mr. Googe was one of her social appendages. Aileen was amused at the whole tone of the rather lengthy epistle; it gave her no uneasiness. Mrs. Champney laid aside her glasses; she wanted to note the effect of the reading on the girl. "You can see for yourself from this how matters stand between these two; it needn't be spoken of in Flamsted outside the family, but it's just as well for you to know of it--don't you think so?" Aileen parried; she enjoyed a little bout with Champney Googe's aunt. "Of course, it's plain enough to see that they're the best of friends--" "Friends!" Mrs. Champney interrupted her; there was a scornful note in her voice which insensibly sharpened; "you haven't your usual common sense, Aileen, if you can't read between these lines well enough to see that Miss Van Ostend and my nephew are as good as engaged." Aileen smiled, but made no reply.