ead on that faithful breast and hear whispered
words of love and affection. When the warmth of their first greeting was
over, Margaret was amazed at the change in her child. Madaline had grown
taller, the girlish graceful figure had developed into a model of
perfect womanhood. The dress that she wore became her so well that the
change in the marvelous face amazed her the most, it was so wonderfully
wonderful, so fair, so pure, so _spirituelle_, yet it had so strange a
story written upon it--a story she could neither read nor understand. It
was not a happy face. The eyes were shadowed, the lips firm, the
radiance and brightness that had distinguished her were gone; there were
patience and resignation Instead.

"How changed you are, my darling!" said Margaret, as she looked at her.
"Who would have thought that my little girl would grow into a tall,
stately, beautiful lady, dainty and exquisite? What did Lord Arleigh say
to your coming, my darling?"

"He did not say anything," she replied, slowly.

"But was he not grieved to lose you?"

"Lord Arleigh is abroad," said Madaline, gently. "I do not expect that
he will return to England just yet."

"Abroad!" repeated Margaret. "Then, my darling, how is it that you are
not with him?"

"I could not go," she replied, evasively.

"And you love your husband very much, Madaline, do you not?" inquired
Margaret.

"Yes, I love him with all my heart and soul!" was the earnest reply.

"Thank Heaven that my darling is happy!" said Margaret, "I shall find
everything easier to bear now that I that."

Chapter XXXV.

Margaret Dornham was neither a clever nor a far-seeing woman; had she
been either, she would never have acted as she did. She would have known
that in taking little Madaline from Castledene she was destroying her
last chance of ever being owned or claimed by her parents; she would
have understood that, although she loved the child very dearly, she was
committing a most cruel act. But she thought only of how she loved her.
Yet, undiscerning as she was, she was puzzled about her daughter's
happiness. If she was really so happy, why did she spend long hours in
reverie--why sit with folded hands, looking with such sad eyes at the
passing clouds? That did not look like happiness. Why those heavy sighs,
and the color that went and came like light and shade? It was strange
happiness. After a time she noticed that Madaline never spoke
voluntarily of her husband. Sh