ince the telegram announcing Graydon's
arrival had thrilled every nerve with hope and fear. Then had come his
hasty note, proving conclusively his affectionate indifference. She
was simply Madge to him, as of old. He was the one man of all the
world to her, and no calculating "if" would be the source of her
restraint.

True to her old tactics, however, she had spent no time in idle
dreaming. She had cultivated Dr. Sommers's acquaintance, and he had
already accompanied her and her sister through a wild valley, on the
occasion of a visit to one of his patients. Little Jack had improved
under his care, and Mrs. Muir was growing serene, rested, and eager
for Saturday. Madge shared her impatience, and yet dreaded the hour
during which she felt that a glimpse of the future would be revealed.
She had driven out daily with her sister, and familiarized herself
with the topography of the region. Having formed the acquaintance of
some pleasant and comparatively active people in the house, she had
joined such walking expeditions as they would venture upon. In rowing
the children upon a small lake she also disposed of some of her
superabundant vitality and the nervous excitement which anticipation
could not fail to produce. In the evening there was more or less
dancing, and her hand was eagerly sought by such of the young men as
could obtain the right to ask it. Mrs. Muir's remark that she would
become a belle in spite of herself proved true; but while she affected
no exclusive or distant airs, the most callow and forward youth
felt at once the restraint of her fine reserve. Her sensitive nature
enabled her, in a place of public resort, to know instinctively whom
to keep at a distance, and who, like Dr. Sommers, not only invited but
justified a frank and friendly manner.

As the time for the gentlemen to arrive approached, Mrs. Muir showed
more restless interest than Madge. The one anticipated a bit of
amusement over Graydon's surprise; the other looked forward to meeting
her fate. Mrs. Muir was garrulous; Madge was comparatively silent, and
maintained the semblance of interest in a book so naturally that her
sister exclaimed, "I expect you will die with a book in your hand! I
could no more read now than preach a sermon. Come, it's time to
make your toilet. Let me help you, and I want you to get yourself up
'perfectly regardless.' You must outshine them all at the hop this
evening."

"Nonsense, Mary! They won't be here for an ho