"Are you sick?" she asked; and her voice expressed the deep anxiety
she felt.
Forcing back a slight cough, and smiling down upon her, he answered
cheerfully, "Oh, no, not sick! Canada air does not agree with me,
that's all. I took a severe cold soon after my arrival in Montreal,"
and the cough he had attempted to stifle now burst forth, sounding to
Maggie, who thought only of consumption, like an echo from the grave.
"Oh, I am so sorry!" she answered sadly, and her eyes filled with
tears, which she did not try to conceal, for looking through the
window across the snow-clad field, on which the winter moon was
shining, she saw instinctively another grave beside that of her
mother.
Madam Conway had not yet appeared, and, as Anna Jeffrey just then
left the room, Mr. Carrollton was for some moments alone with Maggie.
Winding his arm around her waist, and giving her a most expressive
look, he said, "Maggie, are those tears for me?"
Instantly the bright blushes stole over Maggie's face and neck, for
she remembered the time when once before he had asked her a similar
question. Not now, as then, did she turn away from 'him, but she
answered frankly: "Yes, they are. You look so pale and thin, I'm sure
you must be very ill."
Whether Mr. Carrollton liked "blowsy" complexions or not, he certainly
admired Maggie's at that moment, and drawing her closer to his side,
he said, half playfully, half earnestly: "To see you thus anxious for
me, Maggie, more than atones for your waywardness when last we parted.
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