‘But ’tis only a girlish friendship she feels for him,’ he says; ‘only a brotherly interest he entertains for her;’ and so day after day she comes to his library, and on a low stool, her accustomed seat at his side, she drinks in new inspirations with which to feed that girlish friendship, while he, gazing down into her soft, brown, dreamy eyes, feels more and more how necessary to his happiness is her daily presence there. And if sometimes the man of the world asks himself ‘where all this will end?’ his conscience is quieted by the answer that Maggie Lee merely feels toward him as she would any person who had done her a like favour. So all through the bright summer days and through the hazy autumn time, Maggie dreams on, perfectly happy, though she knows not why, for never yet has a thought of love for him entered her soul. She only knows that he to her is the dearest, best of friends, and Greystone Hall the loveliest spot on earth, but the wish that she might ever be its mistress has never been conceived. With the coming of the holidays the lessons were suspended for a time, for there was to be company at the hall, and its master would need all his leisure. ‘I shall miss you so much,’ he said to Maggie, as he walked with her across the fields which led to her humble home. ‘I shall miss you, but the claims of society must be met, and these ladies have long talked of visiting us.’ ‘Are they young and handsome?’ Maggie asked involuntarily. ‘Only one—Miss Helen Deane is accounted a beauty. She is an heiress, too, and the best match in all the city of L——,’ answered Mr. Thornton, more to himself than Maggie, who at the mention of Helen Deane felt a cold shadow folding itself around her heart.