I know he is poor, and that I might be mistress of Tracy Park, but I love Harold best.

It is ten o'clock, and the train, you know, passes at eleven; so I must say good-bye.
'Yours lovingly, 'Amy Crawford, now, but when you read this, 'Amy Hastings.' This was Amy's letter which her mother found upon entering her room after waiting more than an hour for her daughter's appearance at the breakfast, which they always took by themselves.

To say that she was shocked and astonished would but faintly portray the state of her mind as she read that her beautiful young daughter had gone with Harold Hastings, whom she had never liked, for though he was handsome, and agreeable, and gentlemanly as a rule, she knew him to be thoroughly selfish and indolent, and she trembled for her daughter's happiness when a little time had quenched the ardor of his passion.

Added to this was another thought which made her brain reel for a moment an she thought what might have been.

Arthur Tracy had wished to make Amy his wife, and mistress of Tracy Park, which she would have graced so well, for in all the town there was not a fairer, sweeter girl than Amy Crawford, or one better beloved.
It did not matter that she was poor, and her mother was only a housekeeper.