kes it a moment of victory.

"I have brought you good news, Dr. Vaughan."

He comes straight toward her, and imprisons both little hands,
together with the "news" they contain.

"You have brought me yourself, then, and I have been lying in wait for
this opportunity. Claire, shall you ever run away from me again?"

It is useless to rebel. His voice tells her that he knows too much,
and that he will not be evaded any more.

She gives him one glimpse of her face, and then she is clasped in his
strong, loving arms, and from this safe haven, after a time, she tells
her good news, struggling prettily to free herself from the loving
imprisonment.

"Philip is free, and is coming home."

"Of course; why not, darling? There is no accusation against him now."

"Madeline is going away with Mrs. Ralston. Don't you think she is too
bad? Can't we make her stay?"

A look of regretful sadness rests for a moment upon his countenance.
Then he says, very tenderly:

"My little darling, Madeline has earned the right to her own perfect
liberty. After the fierce schooling through which she has passed,
believe me, there is nothing left for us to teach her. She has grown
beyond us. Let her have her will, for she knows best what will give
her the rest, the forgetfulness, the absorbing interest in other
things, that her strong nature needs. Madeline has much to unlearn,
much to forget; and she knows this. She is growing to understand her
strong, brave self, to value her strength. She will never be an idler,
never sink into the ranks of the commonplace. If, after a time, she
finds for herself a worthy love, she will be the tenderest, the truest
of wives. But she is sufficient unto herself. She has beauty, genius,
force, a strong will, a splendid intellect. We shall watch her course
from afar, and I am much mistaken if we do not, some day, hear great
things of our Madeline."

Claire draws herself gently from the restraining arm, and turns her
blue eyes upon him.

[Illustration: "She sinks to her knees, and leaning out, absorbs the
restfulness, the peace, the white, pure glory of the dawn."--page
456.]

"Madeline will never marry," she says softly, sadly. "You are right;
she is above us, beyond us. God has made her sufficient unto herself."

* * * * *

It is dawn, gray dawn.

Madeline Payne rises from a long untroubled sleep, and flings wide her
shutters.

What is this that she sees?

All below