rver as lovely--as childishly sweet,
perhaps. Yet there was something more than childishness in the broad
brow, and firm chin. The little white hands were shapely and strong,
and the dainty feet pressed down the daisies softly yet firmly, with
quiet but steady movement.

Many a man has been mistaken in baby mouth, and sweetly-smiling eyes.
And whoso should mistake Madeline Payne, in the time to come, for
"just a child and nothing more," would reckon unwisely, and mayhap
learn this truth too late.

Madeline sat down upon a fallen tree, where she had so often talked
with her lover. She looked up into the wide spreading branches
overhead. There was the crooked bough where she had, often and often,
in past days, sought refuge when troubled by her father's harshness,
or haunted by dreams of the mother she had hardly known. It looked
cool and inviting, as if she could think to better purpose shrouded by
the whispering leaves. She stepped upon the fallen trunk, and
springing upward, caught a bending limb, and was soon seated cosily
aloft, smiling at the thought of what Lucian would say could he see
her there. Long she pondered, silent, motionless. Finally, stirring
herself and shaking lightly an overhanging friendly branch she
exclaimed:

"That will be best! I'll stay here for the present. I'll tell
step-papa that I love Lucian, and will never marry his friend, Amos
Adams, the old fright! I'll try and be very calm, and as dutiful as
maybe. Then, if he turns me out, very well. If he shuts me up--" Her
eyes flashed and she laughed; but there was little of mirth in the
laughter--"Why, then, I _would_ lead him a life, I think! Yes, I'll
bid Lucian good-by, for a little while, and I'll try and not miss him
too much, for--Oh!"

She had been very busy with her own half-spoken thoughts, else she
must have sooner discovered their approach, for now they were almost
underneath her, and they were no less personages than her step-father,
John Arthur, and her would-be suitor, Amos Adams.

Madeline was about to make known her presence, but her ear caught the
fragment of a sentence in which her name held prominent place. Acting
upon impulse, she remained a silent, unsuspected listener.

And so began in her heart and life that drama of pain and passion, sin
and mystery, that should close round, and harden and blight, the
darkening future of Madeline Payne.

A more marked contrast than the two men presented could scarcely be
imagined.