Every morning she looked forward to seeing Hugh--to learning more of those words that seemed to her like sweetest music.

She knew that at some time or other during the day she would see him; he never tired of admiring her beauty.

Blameworthy was the sad mother with her stern doctrines, blameworthy the proud, neglectful father, that she knew not how wrong all this was.

He loved her; in a thousand eloquent ways he told her so.

She was his loadstar, beautiful and peerless.