The heat was oppressive, and the family
physician said that little Jack should be taken to the country at
once. Therefore they packed in haste, and started for a hotel in the
Catskills at which rooms had been engaged. Graydon was to join them
there as soon after his return as possible.
Madge looked wistfully at the mountains, as with shadowy grandeur
they loomed in the distance. There is ever a solemnity about mountain
scenery, and she felt it as she passed under the lofty brows of wooded
heights. To her spirit it was grateful and appropriate, for, while she
would lead among them apparently the existence of a young girl bent
only on enjoyment, she believed she would leave them, either a happy
woman, or else facing the tragedy of a thwarted life. Their deepest
shadows might, even when her laugh was gayest, typify the despondency
she would hide from all.
It was Saturday, and Mr. Muir accompanied his family. He and his wife
looked worn and weary, for at this time circumstances were bringing
an excess of care to both. Mrs. Muir was a devoted mother, and little
Jack had taxed her patience and strength to the utmost. A defensive
warfare is ever the severest test of manhood, and Mr. Muir had found
the past week a trying one.
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