We shall not do either very soon. Mrs. Hobson is making you a cup of
tea, and then you must rest thoroughly, and sleep, if possible."

"What will you do?"

"Oh, I'll soothe my nerves with a cigar, and berate myself on the
porch! When you are thoroughly rested I'll have Mr. Hobson drive us on
to the nearest station. We are in no plight whatever, if you received
no harm."

"I haven't. Promise me one thing."

"Anything--everything."

"Do no berating. I'm sorry you killed the horse; but he did act
vilely, and I suppose you had to let off your anger in some way. I was
angry myself at first--he was so stupid. But when I found I couldn't
hold him at all I thought I must die--Oh, how it all comes back to
me! What thoughts I had, and how sweet life became! Oh, oh--" and she
began sobbing like a child.

"Madge, please--I can't endure this, indeed I can't."

But her overwrought nerves were not easily controlled, and he knelt
beside her, speaking soothingly and pleadingly. "Dear Madge, dear
sister Madge. Oh, I wish Mary was here!" and he kissed her again and
again.

"Graydon," she gasped, "stop! There--I'm better;" and she did seem to
recover almost instantly.

"Law bless you, sir," said Mrs. Hobson, who had entered with the tea,
"your sister'll be all right in an hour or so."

Graydon sprang to his feet, and there was a strong dash of color in
his face. As for the hitherto pallid Madge, her visage was like a
peony, and she was preternaturally quiet.

"Try to sleep, Madge," said Graydon, from the doorway, "and I won't
'worry or take on' a bit;" and he disappeared.

There was no sleep for her, and yet she felt herself wonderfully
restored. Was it the potency of Mrs. Hobson's tea? or that which he
had placed upon her lips?

CHAPTER XXXVII

"YOU ARE VERY BLIND"

As a general rule Graydon was not conscious of nerves, and had
received the fact of their existence largely on faith. But to-day they
asserted themselves in a manner which excited his surprise and some
rather curious speculation. He found his heart beating in a way
difficult to account for on a physiological basis, his pulses
fluttering, and his thoughts in a luminous haze, wherein nothing was
very distinct except Madge's flushing face, startled eyes, looking a
protest through their tears. It was not so much an indignant protest
as it was a frightened one, he half imagined. And why was he so
confused and disturbed that, instead of sitting quietly d