After that meeting in Hyde Park, Francis Tredethlyn came very often to the Cedars; so often, as to engender a vague uneasiness in Miss Hillary’s mind. She knew that he loved her. If that sudden declaration in the study had never occurred to reveal the fact, Maude must have been something less than a woman had she been blind to a devotion that was made manifest by every look and tone of her adorer. She knew that he loved her, and that he had done battle with his love in order that she might be happily ignorant of the pangs that tormented his simple heart. The highly educated girl was able to read the innermost secrets of that honest uncultivated mind, and was fain to pity Francis Tredethlyn’s wasted suffering. Alas! had she not indeed traded upon his devotion, and obtained her father’s safety at the expense of her own honour? Such thoughts as these tormented Miss Hillary perpetually now that Francis spent so much of his life at Twickenham. She perceived with inexpressible pain that her father encouraged the young man’s visits,--her father, who could not surely shut his eyes to the real state of the Cornishman’s feelings; yet who knew of her engagement to Harcourt Lowther. She did not know that Julia Desmond had taken good care to inform Francis of that engagement, and that the young man came knowingly to his delicious torture. She did not know this; and all that womanly compassion which was natural to her, that pitying tenderness which showed itself in the injudicious relief of barefaced tramps and vagabonds about the Twickenham lanes, and the pampering of troublesome pet dogs and canary birds--all her womanly pity, I say, was aroused by the thought that she was loved, and loved in vain, by an honest and generous heart. Thus it came to pass that she could no longer endure the course which events were taking, and she determined upon speaking to her father. They had dined alone one bright June evening: they were not often thus together now, for Mr. Hillary had fallen into his old habit of bringing visitors from London, and the ponderous matrons and croquet-playing young ladies inflicted a good deal of their company upon Maude. They had dined alone, and Miss Hillary seized the opportunity of speaking to her father upon that one subject which had so long occupied her thoughts. “Mr. Tredethlyn comes here very often, papa,” she said, breaking ground very gently. Lionel Hillary filled his glass, retiring an it were behind the claret-jug, from which comfortable shelter he replied to his daughter’s remark,-- “Often?--yes--I suppose he does spend a good deal of his time here. I am glad that he should do so; he is an excellent young man, a noble-hearted young fellow--the best friend I have in the world.” Mr. Hillary was a long time filling that one glass of claret, and his face was quite hidden by the crystal jug. “Yes, papa, he is very good; but do you think it is quite right--quite wise to invite him so often?”