wrong I would
have done you outweighs all you ever have done or ever can do me.
There is no wrong in this world that you can do me, if I will not
take it so; and as for the wrong you may have done yourself--that
only makes me more faithful to you, Burr."

Burr stood looking at her, speechless. It was to him as if he saw the
true inner self of the girl, which he had dimly known by
half-revealings but had never truly seen before. For a minute it was
not Madelon Hautville in flesh and blood who stood before him, but
the ghost of her, made evident by her love for him; and his very
heart seemed to melt within him with shame and wonder and worship.
"Oh, Madelon!" he gasped out, at length.

But Madelon turned away then. "You must go home now," said she, "and
I must. Good-night, Burr."

"Good-night," said Burr, as if he repeated it at her bidding.

Then they passed without touching each other. Madelon went home down
the lane, across the fields, and Burr went out in the silent street,
whence all the wedding-guests had departed, and homeward also.

Chapter XXVI

In this little Vermont village, lying among peacefully sloping hills,
away from boisterous river-courses, there was small chance of those
physical convulsions which sometimes disturb the quiet of
generations. The roar of a spring freshet never smote the ears of the
dwellers therein, and the winters passed with no danger of
avalanches. From its sheltered situation destructive storms seldom
launched themselves upon it; the oldest inhabitant could remember
little injury from lightning or hail or wind.

However, there is no village in this world so sheltered in situation
that it is not exposed to the full brunt of the great forces of human
passion, when they lash themselves at times into the fury of storm.
It was here in this little village of Ware Centre, which could never
know flood or volcanic fire, as if a sort of spiritual whirlpool had
appeared suddenly in its midst. The thoughts of all the people, lying
down upon their pillows, or rising for their daily tasks, centred
upon it, and it was as if the minds of all were prone upon the edge
of it, gazing curiously into the vortex.

The Sunday after Burr Gordon's disastrous wedding-day the faces of
all the people on their way to meeting wore the same expression, in
different degrees of intensity. One emotion of strained curiosity and
wonder made one family of the whole village. The people thought and
spoke