grapher or artist.

About the same time a wealthy grocer in Yarmouth, old enough to be her
father, had offered to marry her. He had a villa at Gorlestone:
possessed a pony-carriage, and was rich and prosperous. But Maggie
shrank from marrying him. Mr. Plummer might be rich, and no doubt he
meant well and kindly by her, but she could not marry him.

In vain she pleaded with her mother, and with her inexorable brother
Joe, that to marry simply for what you were to get by it was a sin--a
sin against the law of God, who meant marriage to be a sign and seal of
mutual love.

Mrs. Skinner at last said that if she did not do as she bid her, and
promise to marry Mr. Plummer, she might go and earn her living for she
was not going to keep her in idleness. Many stormy scenes followed;
and one night Maggie declared that she could not marry Mr. Plummer, for
she had promised to marry Roger Chanter, the photographic artist!

"And if you do, you shall never see my face again," Mrs. Skinner
declared. "I'll turn you out of the house, and you may disgrace
yourself as you please. I have done with you. Your brother there
knows when I say a thing I mean it."

"Oh, mother, you are very cruel!" Ah! how those words sounded
sometimes in the dead of night, when Mrs. Skinner lay awake, listening
for Joe's return, and to the moaning of the restless sea.

"Oh! mother, you are very cruel!" Those were the last words ever heard
from Maggie, as she passed out of her mother's sight. The next morning
her bed was empty, and she was gone.

From that day up to the present time not a word had been heard of her,
nor had her mother or her brother troubled themselves to inquire for
her. It was supposed she had married the pale, delicate-looking
photographer; but her name was never mentioned, and she had passed away
as if she had never been.

It was the day of the bride and bridegroom's return, and Patience
Harrison had put all things in order. The business had not suffered in
the absence of the head of the establishment, and Mr. Skinner expressed
considerable satisfaction at this. He at once took the keys, and said
he would keep the books and the money, and, in fact, rule the
establishment, and transact the business.

He was fidgeting about the shop the next morning, and peering into all
the boxes and drawers, when his wife ventured to remark that perhaps he
would be late at the office on the quay, as the clock had struck ten.

"My dear,"