Faynie's home was not as congenial to the young girl as it might have
been, for a stepmother reigned supreme there, and all of her love was
lavished upon her own daughter Claire, a crippled, quiet girl of about
Faynie's own age, and Faynie was left to do about as she pleased. Her
father almost lived in his library among his books, and she saw little
of him for days at a time.
Therefore there was no one to notice why Faynie suddenly developed such
a liking for roaming in the garden at twilight; no one to notice the
growing attachment that sprang up and deepened into the strongest of
love between the petted heiress and the poor young cashier.
Lester Armstrong had struggled manfully against it, but it was for a
higher power than man's to direct where the love of his heart should go.
He made strong resolutions that the lovely maiden should never guess the
existing state of affairs, but he might as well have attempted to stay
the mighty waters of the ocean by his weak will. All in an unforeseen
moment the words burst from his lips--the secret he had attempted to
guard so carefully was out.
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