"I feared it would be
so. Graydon is made of iron, and will never realize how delicate you
are."
"He's very kind, and more considerate than I deserve. As he says," she
added, bitterly, "I'm nothing but a ghost, and had better vanish."
"Nonsense, Madge," said the young man, with brusque kindness. "You
know I want you to haunt me always. Good-by now, little sister. I
shall be _de trop_ if I stay any longer. You'll be better in the
morning, and to-morrow evening I'll remain home and entertain you."
CHAPTER III
THE PARTING
At last Madge was alone. Her sister had suggested everything she could
think of, meanwhile bewailing the young girl's extreme imprudence.
Madge entreated for quiet and rest, and at last was left alone. Hour
after hour she lay with wide, fixed gaze. Her mind and imagination
did not partake of her physical weakness, and now they were abnormally
active. As the bewilderment from the shock of her abrupt awakening
passed, the truth hourly grew clearer. From the time she had first
come under her sister's roof Graydon Muir had begun to make himself
essential to her. His uniform kindness had created trust, freedom, and
a content akin to happiness. Now all was swept away.
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