from him. "You'd better get Luke Corliss to fiddle," she
said, coldly.

"We can't. I started to go over there, and I met a man that lives
next door to him, and he said it was no use, for Luke had gone down
to Winfield to fiddle at a ball there."

"I don't feel like lilting to-night," said Madelon.

The young man colored. "Well," said he, in a stiff, embarrassed
voice, and he turned towards the door, "we won't have any ball
to-night, that's all," he added.

"Well, you can go visiting instead," returned Madelon, suddenly.

"I'd rather go a-visiting--here!" cried Burr, with a quick fervor,
and he turned back and came close to her.

Madelon looked at him sharply, steeling her heart against his tender
tone, but he met her gaze with passionate eyes.

"Oh, Madelon, you look so beautiful to-night!" he whispered,
hoarsely. Her eyes fell before his. She made, whether she would or
not, a motion towards him, and he put his arms around her. They
kissed again and again, lingering upon each kiss as if it were a
foothold in heaven. A great rapture of faith in her lover and his
love came over Madelon. She said to herself that they had lied--they
had all lied! Burr had never courted Dorothy Fair. She believed, with
her whole heart and soul, that he loved her and her alone. And,
indeed, she was at that time, at that minute, right and not deceived;
for Burr Gordon was one of those who can encompass love in one tense
only, and that the present; and they who love only in the present,
hampered by no memories and no dreams, yield out love's sweetness
fully. All Burr Gordon's soul was in his kisses and his fond eyes,
and her own crept out to meet it with perfect faith.

"I will lilt for the dancing," she whispered.

The Hautvilles were going to the ball on their wood-sled, drawn by
oxen. David was to drive them, and take the team home. It was already
before the door when Burr came out, and Madelon asked him to ride
with them, but he refused. "I've got to go home first," he said, and
plunged off quickly down the old road, the short-cut to his house.

Madelon Hautville, in her red cloak and her great silk hood, stood in
the midst of her brothers on the wood-sled, and the oxen drew them
ponderously to the ball. The tavern was all alight. Many other sleds
were drawn up before the door; indeed, certain of the young men who
had not their especial sweethearts took their ox-sleds and went from
door to door collecting the young women. Many a