She was not proud towards him, for he possessed
the charm of money, and as he looked down upon her, conversing with
him so familiarly, he wondered how Henry could have called her cold
and haughty--she was merely dignified, high-bred, he thought; and
George Douglas liked anything which savored of aristocracy.
Meanwhile Henry and Maggie had wandered to a little summer-house,
where, with the bright moonlight falling upon them, they sat together,
but not exactly as of old, for Maggie did not now look up into his
face as she was wont to do, and if she thought his eye was resting
upon her she moved uneasily, while the rich blood deepened on her
cheek. A change has come over Maggie Miller; it is the old story,
too--old to hundreds of thousands, but new to her, the blushing
maiden. Theo calls her nervous--Mrs. Jeffrey calls her sick--the
servants call her mighty queer--while old Hagar, hovering ever near,
and watching her with a jealous eye, knows she is in love.
Faithfully and well had Hagar studied Henry Warner, to see if there
were aught in him of evil; and though he was not what she would have
chosen for the queenly Maggie she was satisfied if Margaret loved him
and he loved Margaret. But did he? He had never told her so; and
in Hagar Warren's wild black eyes there was a savage gleam, as she
thought, "He'll rue the day that he dares trifle with Maggie Miller."
But Henry Warner was not trifling with her.
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