Therefore there was no one to notice why Faynie suddenly developed such a liking for roaming in the garden at twilight; no one to notice the growing attachment that sprang up and deepened into the strongest of love between the petted heiress and the poor young cashier.

Lester Armstrong had struggled manfully against it, but it was for a higher power than man’s to direct where the love of his heart should go.  He made strong resolutions that the lovely maiden should never guess the existing state of affairs, but he might as well have attempted to stay the mighty waters of the ocean by his weak will.  All in an unforeseen moment the words burst from his lips—­the secret he had attempted to guard so carefully was out.

He had expected that beautiful Faynie Fairfax would turn from him in anger and dismay, but to his intense surprise, she burst into a flood of tears, even though she looked at him with smiling lips, April sunshine and showers commingled, confessing with all a young girl’s pretty, hesitating shyness that she loved him, even as he loved her, with all her heart.  Then followed half an hour of bliss for the lovers such as the poets tell of in their verses of a glimpse of Paradise.

Although they exchanged a hundred vows of eternal affection, Lester Armstrong hesitated to speak of marriage yet.  Faynie was young—­only eighteen.  There was plenty of time.  And to tell the truth, he dared not face the possibilities of it just yet.  It required a little more courage than he had been able to muster up to seek an audience with the millionaire—­beard the lion in his den, as it were—­and dare propose such a monstrously preposterous thing as the asking of his lovely, dainty young daughter’s hand in marriage.  Lester was timid.  He dreaded beyond words the setting of the ball rolling which would tear his beautiful love and himself asunder.  Heaven help him, he was so unutterably happy in the bewildering present.

His reverie was suddenly interrupted by seeing a little black figure hurrying down the path.  Another instant, and the little breathless figure was clasped in his arms, close, close to his madly throbbing heart.

“Oh, Faynie, my love, my darling, my precious, why did you brave the fury of the tempest to keep the tryst to-night?  I am here, but I did not expect you, much as I love to see you.  I was praying you would not venture out.  Oh, my precious, what is it?” he cried in alarm, as the fitful light of the gas lamp that hung over the arched gate fell full upon her.  “Your sweet face is as white as marble, and your beautiful golden hair is wet with drifted snow, as is your cloak.”

To his intense amazement and distress, she burst into the wildest of sobs and clung to him like a terrified child.  All in vain he attempted to soothe her and find out what it was all about.

The first thought that flashed through his mind was that their meetings had been discovered, and that they meant to put him from Faynie, and he strained her closer to his heart, crying out that whatever it was, nothing save death should separate them.