“Where’s Margaret?” he asked at last, and Madam Conway answered:  “Surely, where can she be?  Have you seen her, Anna?”

“I saw her on the stairs some time ago,” said Anna, adding that possibly she had gone to see Hagar, as she usually visited her at this hour.

A shade of disappointment passed over Mr. Carrollton’s face as he replied, “Tell her I am sorry she thinks more of Hagar than of me.”

The next moment he was gone, and leaning against the chimney Maggie watched with tearful eyes the carriage as it wound up the grassy road.  On the brow of the hill, just before it would disappear from sight, it suddenly stopped.  Something was the matter with the harness, and while John was busy adjusting it Mr. Carrollton leaned from the window, and, looking back, started involuntarily as he caught sight of the figure so clearly defined upon the housetop.  A slight suspicion of the truth came upon him, and kissing his hand he waved it gracefully towards her.  Maggie’s handkerchief was wet with tears, but she shook it out in the morning breeze, and sent to Arthur Carrollton, as she thought, her last good-by.

Fearing lest her grandmother should see her swollen eyes, she stole down the stairs, and taking her shawl and bonnet from the table in the hall ran off into the woods, going to a pleasant, mossy bank not far from Hagar’s cottage, where she had more than once sat with Arthur Carrollton, and where she fancied she would never sit with him again.

“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.