Happily unconscious of her father\'s unfavorable opinion, Roma entered and seated herself close to his chair, displaying an unwonted tenderness for him that deceived no one but Devereaux, for whose benefit it was designed. Both her parents knew that Roma was never affectionate, except to gain some end of her own.

On this occasion she was unwontedly sweet and gentle, with a new pensiveness in her manner more attractive to Devereaux than her usual brilliancy. She made no bids for his attention; she seemed sadly resigned to her fate, as her downcast eyes and stifled sighs attested. It touched him, but he felt too sad at heart to console others, and he soon tore himself away, returning that night to Boston, wondering if it could be possible, that the same city had held Liane all this time that he had supposed her safe at Stonecliff.

He knew that Malcolm Dean was in Philadelphia, and had been there for some time, and he wondered if the artist\'s love for Liane had failed to realize her confident hopes.

[Pg 188]

"Poor little thing! I pity her, with her sweet love dream blighted!" he thought generously, as he awakened early the next morning, pursuing the same sad train of thought.

A startling surprise awaited him after breakfast, where Lyde was sitting going over the new magazines.

Her dark eyes brightened suddenly, as she exclaimed:

"Upon my word, Jesse, the beautiful face on the outside cover of this magazine resembles perfectly the pretty girl from whom I buy my gloves!"

"Really!" he exclaimed, taking the magazine, and flushing and paling alternately, as he saw before him the cover that Dean had designed, with Liane\'s face for the central figure.

How beautiful it was? How beautiful! His heart leaped madly, then sank again in his breast.

"Do you think it can be accidental, or is it really her portrait? She is lovely, Jesse, with a natural, high-bred air, the darkest eyes, like purple pansies rimmed in jet, and the most beautiful chestnut hair, all touched with gleams of gold. I have woven quite a romance round her, fancying her some rich girl reduced to poverty."

[Pg 189]

His heart was beating with muffled throbs, his eyes flashed with eagerness, but he asked with seeming carelessness:

"What is her name?"

He was not in the least surprised when she answered:

"Miss Lester, and the other girls call her Liane. It is a pretty name, and, oddly enough, I read it once in a novel. She must have been named from it; don\'t you think, Jesse?"

"Perhaps so."

He could hardly speak, he was so excited, and Lyde rambled on:

"We have fallen in love with each other, pretty Liane and I. She always hurries to meet me and show me her gloves. Her eyes smile at me so tenderly, as if she were really fond of me, and I almost believe she is, for when I allow her to try on my gloves for me, she has such a caressing way, I almost long to kiss her. But then, perhaps, she has the same manner with all, just to get trade," disappointedly.

Devereaux recalled the caressing touch of her lips on his hand that night by the sea; her pretty, bashful gratitude, and groaned within himself.

"Oh, my lost love, my false love!"

[Pg 190]

Aloud he said cynically:

"I thought you were too proud, Lyde, to notice a pretty salesgirl."

"Oh, Jesse, I like to be kind to them all, poor things! And they appreciate a kind word and smile more than you might think. And many of these girls are so very pretty, too, that really, if I were looking for beauty, I believe I should seek it among the working girls in our stores. This Liane Lester, too, is lovelier than all the rest, and her voice so soft and sweet that, really, I am sure she must be a reduced aristocrat."

He wondered if he dare tell her the truth about Liane, the story of his love. Smilingly he said:

"You will have me falling in love with your pretty glove girl."

"Oh, not for the world!" she cried, in dismay. "My dear Jesse, never think of loving and marrying out of your own set. One can admire beauty in a poor girl as one admires beauty in a statue, but, lifted above her station, my pretty Liane would not be half so admirable."

"Of course not," he replied cynically, and decided not to make her his confidante.

All the same, he determined to see for himself again the lovely face that had won Lyde\'s admiration.[Pg 191] He knew where she bought her gloves, and that afternoon he was close by when the little army of salesgirls came pouring out into the street.

By and by came two arm in arm, Lizzie White and Liane, and his eyes feasted again on the lovely face beneath the little blue hat, noting with gladness its purity of expression.

"They lied. She is pure and innocent still, in spite of pardonable vanity and girlish coquetry," he thought, with a subtle thrill of joy.

Then he saw Granny Jenks dart forward with a skinny, outstretched claw, whining:

"I came for your wages, Liane. I was afraid you might fool away the money before you got home."

"The old harpy!" he muttered, with irrepressible indignation, as he saw her clutch the money Liane had earned by her week\'s toil.

Then he drew back quickly, lest she should see him, a sudden resolve forming in his mind.

He would follow them, and find out where her home was, and if she deserved the cruel things they said of her at Stonecliff. He felt sure that she had been slandered, poor, pretty Liane, leading her simple, blameless life of toil and poverty.

[Pg 192]

He thought with pleasure of Mr. Clarke\'s interest in Liane, and promised himself to write to that gentleman all he could find out about her, little dreaming of the cruel consequences that would follow on the writing of the letter.

"Poor little girl, it is a shame that evil hearts should malign and traduce her, living her humble life of toil, poverty, and innocence!" Jesse Devereaux said to himself pityingly, on returning from following Liane to her humble abode.

He satisfied himself that her surroundings, though poor, were strictly respectable, and that she earned a meager living for herself and granny by patient, daily toil, and he had turned back to his own life of ease and luxury with a sore heart.

Keen sympathy and pity drove resentment from his mind, effacing all but divine tenderness.

He longed for an intensity that was almost pain to brighten her daily life, so weary, toilsome, and devoid of pleasure.

"Had she but loved me, beautiful, hapless Liane, how different her lot in life would have been!" he thought, picturing her as the queen of his splendid home, her graceful form clothed in rich attire, her white throat and her tiny little hands glittering with costly gems, while she[Pg 193] leaned on his breast, happy as a queen, his loving bride.

He wondered what had become of Malcolm Dean, and why his ardent admiration of Liane had waned so soon.

Almost simultaneously with the thought the doorbell rang, and Malcolm Dean\'s card was presented to him.

"Show the gentleman in."

They stood facing each other, the handsome blond artist and the dark-haired millionaire, and the latter recalled with a silent pang that Liane prefe............