"I don't believe it's for him that I am crying," she thought, as she
tried in vain to stay her tears; "I always intended to hate him, and I
almost know I do; I'm only feeling badly because I won't run away, and
Henry and Rose will go without me so soon!" And fully satisfied at
having discovered the real cause of her grief, she laid her head upon
the bright autumn grass and wept bitterly, holding her breath, and
listening intently as she heard in the distance the sound of the
engine which was bearing Mr. Carrollton away.
It did not occur to her that he could not yet have reached the depot,
and as she knew nothing of a change in the time of the trains she was
taken wholly by surprise when, fifteen minutes later, a manly form
bent over her, as she lay upon the bank, and a voice, earnest and
thrilling in tones, murmured softly, "Maggie, are those tears for me?"
When about halfway to the station Mr. Carrollton had heard of the
change of time, and knowing he should not be in season had turned back
with the intention of waiting for the next train, which would pass in
a few hours. Learning that Maggie was in the woods, he had started in
quest of her, going naturally to the mossy bank, where, as we have
seen, he found her weeping on the grass. She was weeping for him--he
was sure of that. He was not indifferent to her, as he had sometimes
feared, and for an instant he felt tempted to take her in his arms and
tell her how dear she was to him.
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