ing of a woman.

On, on, through the black night--youth and age, joy and sorrow, hope
and despair, good and evil; on together through the night; on, on.
Near to the great city; near to the welcome, dark or bright, awaiting
the journey's end. Blacker grew the night, wilder shrieked the wind in
angry protest against the defiant, fiery, resistless monster upon
whom its rage fell impotent. Now pausing; now rushing on with a shriek
and a roar; nearer, nearer to the scene of the new life, dawning
grimly upon the fair girl, all unconscious, unheeding.

They halted at a wayside station--just one of those little hamlets
only a few miles removed from, and really a part of the great city.
One passenger came on board, sauntering down the coach's length
listlessly, wearily. He threw himself into a reversed seat in a half
reclining attitude, and so his careless, wandering gaze fell first
upon Madeline, seated opposite and very near.

She sees him just as she sees the rest, vaguely. She remembers, later,
that he had a good face and that she had thought it then. But confused
and wearied in mind and body, she feels no inclination to observe or
think. So they were hurried on, and no whisper of her heart, no
quickening of the pulses, or sensation of joy or fear, warned her that
she was sitting under the gaze and in the presence of the good and the
evil forces that were to compass and shape her life.

Open your eyes, oh, Madeline, before it is too late. See the snare
that is spreading beneath your feet; read aright the bright glance
that shines on you from those handsome, fateful eyes. Interpret truly
the smile turned on you now. Alas! what woman ever saw guile in the
eyes of the man she loved? Never one, until those eyes have ceased to
smile upon her, and her fate is sealed. What one ever yet recognized
the false ring of the voice that had never, as yet, addressed her save
in honeyed tones, that seemed earth's sweetest music to her ears?
None, until the voice had changed and forgotten its love words; none,
until it was too late.

What Madeline saw, was a man who was to her the embodiment of all
manly grace, her all of joy and love, of truth and trust. And, sitting
opposite, just a young man with fair curling hair, and frank blue
eyes; with a fine manly face, and an air of refinement. A very nice
young man; but not like her hero.

Not like her hero? No, thank heaven for that, Madeline, else your way
would have been far more drear, e