She spoke rapidly and kept reiterating that Millbank was _his_, because of the look on his face which she did not quite understand. He was too much bewildered and confounded to know what to say, and for a moment was silent, while his eyes ran rapidly over the paper, which, beyond a doubt, made him master of Millbank again. “Why did you do this, Magda?” he said at last, and his chin quivered a little as he said it. Then Magdalen burst out impulsively, “Oh, Roger, don’t look as if you were not glad. I’ve thought so much about it, and wanted to do something by way of amends. I saved all my salary, every dollar, before I knew I was Magdalen Grey, and was going to send it to you, but Guy laughed me out of it, and said you did not need it: then, when father died and I knew I was rich, my first thought was of you, and when I heard Millbank was to be sold, I said, ‘I’ll buy it for Roger if it takes every cent I am worth;’ and I _have_ bought it, and given it to you, and you must take it and go back there and live. I shall never be happy till you do.” She stopped here, but she was kneeling still, and her tearful, flushed face was very near to Roger, who could interpret her words and manner in only one way, and that a way which made the world seem like heaven to him. “Magda,” he said, winding his arm around her and drawing her hot cheek close to his own, “let me ask one question. I can’t live at Millbank alone. If I take it of you, who will live there with me?” Hester had asked a similar question, but Magdalen did not reply to Roger just as she had to the old lady. There was a little dash of coquetry in her manner, which would not perhaps have appeared had she been less sure of her position. “I suppose _Hester_ will live with you, of course,” she said. “She does nicely for you here. She is not so very old.” There was a teasing look in Magdalen’s eyes, which told Roger he had nothing to fear, and raising himself up he drew her down beside him and said: “I ask you to be candid with me, Magda. We have wasted too much time not to be in earnest now. Your coming to me as you have could only be construed in one way, were you like most girls; but you are not. You are impulsive. You think no evil, see no evil, but do just what your generous heart prompts you to do. Now, tell me, darling, was it sympathy and a desire to make restitution, as you designate it, or was it love which sent you here when I had ceased to hope you would ever come. Tell me, Magda, do you, can you love your old friend and guardian, who has been foolish enough to hold you in his heart all these many years, even when he believed himself indifferent to you?”