What did you tell him, dearest?"

"All--everything. I spoke up bravely, Jack. I told him I was a woman
now, and that I loved you with all my heart, and intended to marry you!"

"My own plucky Madge! And I suppose that made him the more angry?"

"No; my defiance surprised him--he thought I would yield. He talked
about ingratitude, and called me a foolish girl who did not know her own
mind. He looked awfully sad and stern, Jack, but when I kissed him and
begged him not to be angry, he melted a little."

"And gave in?"

"No, neither of us yielded; we agreed to a sort of a tacit truce. Father
did not speak of the matter again, and he went to town very early this
morning, before I was up. He left word with Mrs. Sedgewick that he would
not be back until late. I was sure he would go to your studio."

"I have not seen him," replied Jack; "but I hope he will come. If he
doesn't I shall call on him and ask for your hand, and without delay. It
is the only honorable course. Until I set things right with him, and
satisfy him of my intentions, I can't blame him for thinking all sorts
of evil of me."

"If he knew you as I know you, dear!"

"But he doesn't," Jack said, bitterly. "Is it likely that he will consent
to let you marry a poor artist? No. But I can't--I won't--give you up,
Madge!"

The girl rested her hands on his shoulders, and looked trustfully into
his face.

"Dear Jack, don't worry," she whispered. "It will all come right in the
end. We love each other, and we will be true. Nothing shall part us. I
am yours always, and some day I will be your wife. Promise that you will
believe me--that you will never be afraid of losing me!"

"I _do_ believe you, darling," Jack said, fervently. "You have made me
happy again--your words have driven the clouds away. I could not live
without you, Madge. Since I have known you the whole world seems
brighter and better. For your sake I am going to make a name and a
fortune."

He kissed her passionately, and for a few moments they stood watching
the incoming tide, and talking in a lighter vein. Then they parted, and
Madge slipped away toward the old house with its guardian elm trees. The
memory of her last words cheered Jack as he walked to the high-road and
thence to his studio. Alphonse had prepared him a tempting little
supper, and he did not go to town that night.

The next morning London awoke to a new sensation, which quite eclipsed
the week-old theft of the Duchess of Hi