sought to be, from what she simply
was, he should have the chance. Her own deep experience had taught her
much and given her the clew to many things. She had studied life, not
only in books, but in its actual manifestations. Mrs. Wayland was a
social mine in herself, and could recall from the past, volumes of
dispassionate gossip, free from malice. In two years Madge had learned
to know the world better than many who are in contact with it for long
periods, but who see all through the distorted medium of their own
prejudices or exceptional experiences. Although she was no longer
unsophisticated she was neither cynical nor optimistic. Before her
hope could be fulfilled she knew she must enter society, and she
studied it thoughtfully--its whims and meannesses as well as its laws
and refinements. If she ever reached Graydon's side she meant to stand
there with a knowledge and confidence as assured as his own. She soon
learned that it is common enough for women to seek to win men by every
alluring and coquettish device. She would employ no devices whatever.
She would merely reappear above his horizon among other luminaries,
and shine with her own pure, unborrowed light. Then it must depend
upon himself whether she ever became his own "bright particular star."

So much she felt she had a right to do, and no conventional hesitation
as to her course stood in her way. Her love had become the governing
impulse of her life, and its dictates were imperative until they
trenched upon her sensitive, womanly pride. Then they were met as the
rock meets the tide. She did not care what the world might think: it
should never have occasion to think at all. Her secret was between
herself and God. Graydon himself should never know it unless his name
became hers.

How vividly her old haunts recalled him! There was the lounge on which
he used to toss the "little wraith" after having carried her around
in the semblance of a waltz. The sofa on which had taken place their
strange parting still stood as of old in her room. There her head
had sunk in unconsciousness upon his breast, the result of her vain,
feeble struggle to escape from caresses so natural to him, but no
longer to be received by her.

What way-marks in life mute, commonplace things become in the light
of memory! To her vivid fancy Graydon was again present in all the
positions now made memorable by deep affection. The past unrolled
itself again as it had so often done before. S