“Upon my word,” she said, shaking her bright curls loose, and pressing them back from her flushed cheeks with both hands, “this seems romantic. I wonder what Aunt Eliza will say?” “Never mind what she says.” “Oh! but you would mind, if she lived in the house with you; but there is dear, old grandmamma to help me out if she bears down too hard—so find yourself a chair. The fire is delightful after our cold walk. What a change it is from that room to this?” Georgiana had seated herself in the Turkish chair, and sat nestled in its cushions, with the firelight glimmering over her as she made this remark. Savage drew a low ottoman to her side, and sat down upon it. “You were thinking of that garret-room in the tenement-house?” he said. “Yes, and thinking, too, how thoughtless and ungrateful I am for all this comfort, for which I have done nothing, while——” Georgie broke off, and her eyes filled with tears, softly and brightly as violets gather dew. “While that poor girl is compelled to toil for the bare necessaries of life; that’s what was in your heart, I know,” said Savage, taking her hand gently in his. “I—I would speak to you about her.” “To me—and about her?” said Georgie, drawing her hand away. “I scarcely know her. She is a nice girl, I dare say; but why should any one wish to talk to me about her?” “Because you are good and generous; because she is helpless and beautiful.” “Beautiful!—is she? I did not particularly observe it. A brunette, isn’t she? Some people like that style. I—I—but you had something to say, and I interrupted you.” “Oh, Miss Halstead! you could be of such service to this sweet girl.” “I of service to her?” said Georgie, lifting her head with a little fling of pride. “I thank you for the idea. What does she want of me?” “What, Anna Burns? Nothing. Poor girl! she is not one to ask help; but knowing you so good and gentle, I thought to interest you in her behalf. She is a lady.” “Yes, yes! she is nice and very lady-like, I admit that; and good as she is beautiful. That means nothing, Mr. Savage. When beauty lies in the fancy of the beholder, we cannot measure other qualities by it,” said Georgie. “Please go on and tell me what I can do?” “You can do every thing for this young girl. She is so lonely, so isolated in that comfortless place.” “Yes, it is terrible,” cried Georgie, shivering among her cushions. “Yet you did not seem to find it so very disagreeable.” “No place where she is can be disagreeable to me,” answered Savage, with deep feeling. Georgie turned white, and shrunk back in her chair, as if some one had struck her. Her voice scarcely rose above a whisper when she forced it into words, “You love this girl, then?” “Love her, Georgie? Yes, better than my life—better than all the world beside!”