preciation," (her sense of justice forced this from her),
"my good wishes. Good-by." She gave him her hand. He held it for a
second, and then was gone.

She heard his footstep, rapid and receding. So he had really gone! She
was not sorry--no. If she could have loved him! She sank back in her
chair.

No, she could not love him. The man to command her heart must be of
another type. But the greatest experience in a woman's life had come to
her here, just now, in this commonplace room. A man had said he loved
her. A thousand times as a girl she had dreamed of that, hardly
confessing it to herself, and thought of such a scene, and feared it. And
a man had said that he loved her. Her eyes grew tenderer and her face
burned at the thought. Was it with pleasure? Yes, and with womanly pain.
What an awful thing it was! Why couldn't he have seen? A man had said he
loved her. Perhaps it was not in her to love any one. Perhaps she should
live on and on like her aunt Forsythe. Well, it was over; and Margaret
roused herself as her aunt entered the room.

"Has Mr. Lyon been here?"

"Yes; he has just gone. He was so sorry not to see you and say good-by.
He left ever so many messages for you."

"And" (Margaret was moving as if to go) "did he say nothing--nothing to
you?"

"Oh yes, he said a great deal," answered this accomplished hypocrite,
looking frankly in her aunt's eyes. "He said how delightful his visit had
been, and how sorry he was to go."

"And nothing else, Margaret?"

"Oh yes; he said he was going to Washington." And the girl was gone from
the room.

VI

Margaret hastened to her chamber. Was the air oppressive? She opened the
window and sat down by it. A soft south wind was blowing, eating away the
remaining patches of snow; the sky was full of fleecy clouds. Where do
these days come from in January? Why should nature be in a melting mood?
Margaret instinctively would have preferred a wild storm, violence,
anything but this elemental languor. Her emotion was incredible to
herself.

It was only an incident. It had all happened in a moment, and it was
over. But it was the first of the kind in a woman's life. The thrilling,
mysterious word had been dropped into a woman's heart. Hereafter she
would be changed. She never again would be as she was before. Would her
heart be hardened or softened by the experience? She did not love him;
that was clear. She had done right; that was clear. But he had said he
loved h