Thus it happened that the performance of his duties led Lester each evening past the Fairfax home.
One summer evening he espied Faynie, the object of his ardent admiration, standing in the flower garden, herself the fairest flower of all.

It was beyond human nature to resist stopping still to gaze upon her.

This he did, believing himself unseen, but Faynie Fairfax had beheld the tall, well-known form afar down the road, and she was not displeased at the prospect of having a delightful little chat with the handsome young cashier.
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.
He had expected that beautiful Faynie Fairfax would turn from him in anger and dismay, but to his intense surprise, she burst into a flood of tears, even though she looked at him with smiling lips, April sunshine and showers commingled, confessing with all a young girl's pretty, hesitating shyness that she loved him, even as he loved her, with all her heart.