let, Miss Keith stood, accoutered and defiantly calm, at
Madeline's door.

CHAPTER XIX.

A DUAL RENUNCIATION.

Madeline Payne had lingered over her toilet, pondering the
incomprehensible manner of Claire Keith. She now stood before her
mirror, brush in hand, thinking.

"Not ready yet?"

If Madeline could believe her eyes, Claire was actually smiling!

"I thought you would be waiting for me," continued Claire, composedly,
pulling a big chair forward, and sitting down where she could look
full in Madeline's face. "But it is just as well; there is something
that I want to say, before we go down. Why don't you go on with your
hair?"

Madeline's hand, brush and all, had dropped to her side, and she was
silently staring at her friend. Without a word she resumed her
employment, looking more at Claire than at her own reflected image.

"You guessed rightly, when you accused me of having seen Mr. Percy
to-day," pursued Claire.

"Accused, Claire?"

"Well, informed, then. I did see him. He wrote me a letter; it was
posted at Bellair; you see," smiling bitterly; "that I have no reason
for doubting anything you have told me."

A new light broke over Madeline's face. "Do you doubt?" she asked,
quickly.

"Not one word!"

"Oh!" drawing a breath of relief. "You were so composed I thought--"

"That I was hoping to disprove your statements? Not at all. And why
should I not be composed? Do you think my heart could break for such a
man?"

"Hearts don't break so easily," said Madeline, gloomily, "but they
ache sometimes."

"Do they?" placing her hand over her heart and smiling faintly. "Well,
mine don't ache either, yet; but it burns."

Madeline stayed her brush again. "No," she murmured, "it don't ache
_yet_."

Claire made a gesture of impatience. "Oh, I know what you mean,
Madeline! By and by my heart will ache, of course--I know that, having
discovered, quite recently, that I am human. One can't feel outraged
and angry always, and sometimes, I suppose, my day-dreams will come
back and haunt me. Well, that is a part of the price we have to pay
for intruding into dreamland when we are not asleep. But this is not
what I began to say. Edward Percy met me to-day, and this is what he
told me: He said he was going away, upon some geological expedition,
and would most likely be gone a year. He wanted me to promise to hold
myself free until he could return and claim me. He would exact no
other promise now, only pl