she could remember, as his comrade and equal, talking and reading with her on the subjects which interested him, and on which he willed that she should concentrate her own powers of thought. He had thus robbed his child of her childhood,—a grave error, and not an uncommon one with fathers. A boy's boyhood is too vigorous a thing to be balked of its bent; but the nature of a little girl is a wonderfully pliable and soft material, out of which a self-centred man may easily shape a careful child-woman for his companion. Margaret had not been without suitors, for the comfortable fortune she had inherited from her mother had more than once given her the opportunity of making an advantageous European match. She had not been without admirers, for her charm of manner, her grace, her fresh sweet face, and her lithe strong figure were attractions which had not failed to make themselves felt. But of lovers she was as ignorant as of the inhabitants of Mars. She knew quite well how to make men welcome at her father's table, how to put them at their ease if they happened to be shy, how to make her drawing-room pleasant and homelike to the homeless ones; but here her knowledge of them stopped.
Mrs. Sara Harden was in all respects the opposite of her young friend, and had borne the
