“Does it hurt you to hear the name mentioned, Maggie? If it does, I will not speak of him again. I know Tom will not see him if he can avoid it.” “I don’t feel at all as Tom does on that subject,” said Maggie, rising and going to the window as if she wanted to see more of the landscape. “I’ve always liked Philip Wakem ever since I was a little girl, and saw him at Lorton. He was so good when Tom hurt his foot.” “Oh, I’m so glad!” said Lucy. “Then you won’t mind his coming sometimes, and we can have much more music than we could without him. I’m very fond of poor Philip, only I wish he were not so morbid about his deformity. I suppose it _is_ his deformity that makes him so sad, and sometimes bitter. It is certainly very piteous to see his poor little crooked body and pale face among great, strong people.” “But, Lucy——” said Maggie, trying to arrest the prattling stream. “Ah, there is the door-bell. That must be Stephen,” Lucy went on, not noticing Maggie’s faint effort to speak. “One of the things I most admire in Stephen is that he makes a greater friend of Philip than any one.” It was too late for Maggie to speak now; the drawingroom door was opening, and Minny was already growling in a small way at the entrance of a tall gentleman, who went up to Lucy and took her hand with a half-polite, half-tender glance and tone of inquiry, which seemed to indicate that he was unconscious of any other presence. “Let me introduce you to my cousin, Miss Tulliver,” said Lucy, turning with wicked enjoyment toward Maggie, who now approached from the farther window. “This is Mr Stephen Guest.” For one instant Stephen could not conceal his astonishment at the sight of this tall, dark-eyed nymph with her jet-black coronet of hair; the next, Maggie felt herself, for the first time in her life, receiving the tribute of a very deep blush and a very deep bow from a person toward whom she herself was conscious of timidity. This new experience was very agreeable to her, so agreeable that it almost effaced her previous emotion about Philip. There was a new brightness in her eyes, and a very becoming flush on her cheek, as she seated herself. “I hope you perceive what a striking likeness you drew the day before yesterday,” said Lucy, with a pretty laugh of triumph. She enjoyed her lover’s confusion; the advantage was usually on his side. “This designing cousin of yours quite deceived me, Miss Tulliver,” said Stephen, seating himself by Lucy, and stooping to play with Minny, only looking at Maggie furtively. “She said you had light hair and blue eyes.” “Nay, it was you who said so,” remonstrated Lucy. “I only refrained from destroying your confidence in your own second-sight.” “I wish I could always err in the same way,” said Stephen, “and find reality so much more beautiful than my preconceptions.” “Now you have proved yourself equal to the occasion,” said Maggie, “and said what it was incumbent on you to say under the circumstances.”