head. He put out his arms and she came into them, and their lips met in a
kiss, happy and loving on her part, and fraught with no special feeling,
but the lips which hers touched were tremulous. Slightly surprised at his
agitation, she leaned back in his clasp, and, resting her glorious black
eyes on his, said--

"How you love me, dear!"

Oh, the bright, sweet light in her eyes! the light he had not seen since
she was a girl, and which had never shone for him before. As they were
about to leave, the doctor drew him aside.

"The most successful operation I ever made, sir," he said,
enthusiastically. "I saw you were startled that I should tell her so
frankly what she had forgotten. You need not have been so. That memory is
absolutely gone, and cannot be restored. She might conclude that what she
had forgotten was anything else in the world except what if really was.
You may always allude with perfect safety before her to the real facts,
the only risk being that, if she doesn't think you are making a bad joke,
she will be afraid that you are losing your mind."

All the way home Madeline was full of guesses and speculation as to what
it had been which she had forgotten, finally, however, settling down to
the conclusion that it had something to do with Harvard College, and
when Henry refused to deny explicitly that such was the case, she was
quite sure. She announced that she was going to get a lot of old
catalogues and read over the names, and also visit the college to see if
she could not revive the recollection. But, upon his solemnly urging her
not to do so, lest she might find her associations with that institution
not altogether agreeable if revived, she consented to give up the plan.

"Although, do you know," she said, "there is nothing in the world which I
should like to find out so much as what it was we went to Dr. Heidenhoff
in order to make me forget. What do you look so sober for? Wouldn't I
really be glad if I could?"

"It's really nothing of any consequence," he said, pretending to be
momentarily absorbed in opening his penknife.

"Supposing it isn't, it's just as vexatious not to remember it," she
declared.

"How did you like Dr. Heidenhoff?" he asked.

"Oh, I presume he's a good enough doctor, but I thought that joke about
an affair of the heart wasn't at all nice. Men are so coarse."

"Oh, he meant no harm," said Henry, hastily.

"I suppose he just tried to say the absurdest thing he could think