Her step was light, yet never
uncertain. Her progress was easy, and, although different, was quite
as graceful as if she were promenading the piazza, proving that she
was an adept in mountain-climbing. It was evident, however, that
to Miss Wildmere a mountain was a _terra incognita_. She trod
uncertainly, her feet turned on loose stones that hurt her, and before
the first steep ascent was passed, she panted and was glad to sit down
with others, more or less exhausted.
Madge's breathing was only slightly quickened, and color was beginning
to come in her usually pale face, yet she had lent a helping hand more
than once.
"How easily you climb, Miss Alden!" gasped Miss Wildmere. "Have you
taken lessons?"
"Yes," she replied, smiling sweetly, "and from a master."
Miss Wildmere also was beginning to discover a problem in Madge; she
could not patronize, snub, or apparently touch her with shafts of
satire. The young girl treated her with cordial indifference, as
one-of the guests of the house. She appeared to be capable of enjoying
herself thoroughly, with scarcely a consciousness of the belle's
existence, unless, as in the present case, she was addressed. Then she
would reply with perfect courtesy, but in some such ambiguous way.
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