ed."

Others who had seats at the table now approached, and prevented
further interchange of words on so delicate a subject. Nevertheless
Mr. Muir's arrow had not flown wide of the mark, and Graydon thought
that Miss Wildmere was unnecessarily cordial toward his rival, and
that Mr. Wildmere, who had also come from the city, was decidedly
complacent over the fact.

Graydon's furtive observation was now cut short by the entrance of
Madge, and even he was dazzled by a beauty that attracted many eyes.
It was not merely a lovely woman who was advancing toward him, but a
woman whose nature was profoundly excited. What though she moved in
quiet, well-bred grace, and greeted Mr. Muir with natural cordiality?
The aroused spiritual element was not wanting in the expression of her
face or in the dignity of her carriage. Her deep, suppressed feeling,
which bordered on despair; her womanly pride, which would disguise
all suffering at every cost, gave to her presence a subtle power, felt
none the less because intangible. It was evident that she neither
saw nor cared for the strangers who were looking their curiosity and
admiration; and Graydon understood her barely well enough to think,
"Something, whatever it may be, makes her unlike other girls. She was
languidly indifferent at dinner; now she is superbly indifferent. This
morning and yesterday she was a gay young girl, eager for a mountain
scramble or a frolic of any kind. How many more phases will she
exhibit before the week is over?"

Poor Madge could not have answered that question herself. She was
under the control of one of the chief inspirations of feeling and
action. Moods of which she had never dreamed would become inevitable;
thoughts which nothing external could suggest would arise in her own
heart and determine her manner.

In ceasing to hope one also ceases to fear, and Graydon admitted to
himself that he had never before felt the change in Madge so deeply.
The weak, timid little girl he had once known now looked as if she
could quietly face anything. The crowded room, the stare of strangers,
were simply as if they were not; the approach of a thunder-gust in the
sultry evening was unheeded; when a loud peal drowned her voice, she
simply waited till she could be heard again, and then went on without
a tremor in her tones, while all around her people were nervous,
starting, and exclaiming. There was not the faintest suggestion of
high tragedy in her manner. To a cas