brood away the future. She could never hope for Graydon
Muir's love. He would soon return to New York, and the idea that
Miss Wildmere or any other girl would remain cold to his suit was
preposterous. Yet if she lived she must meet Graydon again, and she
now felt that she would live. The decision she had manifested at the
crisis of her life was kindling her nature. She was conscious of a
growing inclination to prove to Graydon that she was neither "weak
nor lackadaisical." The reproach of these, his words, haunted her and
rankled in her memory. If she could only make him respect her--if she
could only win such a look of admiration as she had seen upon his face
when he first recognized Miss Wildmere at the party, it would be a
triumph indeed.

Thus a new plan, a new hope, was developed, and became the inspiration
of effort. She listened unweariedly as Mrs. Wayland related how she
had turned the tide of her ebbing vitality. Thus Madge gained the
benefit of another's experience. Little by little she sought to
increase her slender resources of strength. The superb climate enabled
her to live almost in the open air, and each day she exulted over an
increase of vigor. Almost everything favored her in her new home.
When she was well enough to go out much the strangers had gone, and
everything in the town was restful, yet not enervating. The Waylands,
while on the best terms with other permanent residents, were not
society people. Mrs. Wayland had become satisfied with that phase of
life in her youth. Her husband was a reader, a student, and something
of a naturalist. The domestic habits which had been formed while Mrs.
Wayland was an invalid still clung to them. While never ceasing to be
kind neighbors, they were more than content with books, nature, and
each other. Madge therefore had access to a very fine library, and the
companionship of intellectual people who had known from contact the
present world, and in whose cultivated minds dwelt the experiences of
the past. Her friends were in the habit of discussing what they
read, and the basis of much of their enjoyment--as of all true
companionship--was harmonious disagreement. Thus the young girl was
insensibly taught to think for herself and to form her own opinions.
They also proved admirable guides in directing her reading. She felt
that she had read enough for mere amusement, and now determined to
become familiar with the great master-minds, so far as she was capable
of f