"I won't come down again to-night," she
said to Graydon as they passed out of the supper-room. "Good-night."
"Good-night, Madge," he replied, taking her hand in both his own.
"I understand you now, and know that you have gone beyond even your
superb strength to-day. Sleep the sleep of the justest and truest
little woman that ever breathed. I can't tell you how much you have
added to my happiness during the past two days."
"He understands me!" she muttered, as she closed the door of her room.
"I am almost tempted to doubt whether a merciful God understands me.
Why was this immeasurable love put into my heart to be so cruelly
thwarted? Why must he go blindly on to so cruel a fate? Of course
she'll renounce everything for him. Whatever else she may be, she is
not an idiot."
Henry Muir's quiet eyes had observed Madge closely, and from a little
distance he had seen the parting between her and his brother. Then
he saw Graydon seek Miss Wildmere and resume a manner which he had
learned to detest, and the self-contained man went out upon the
grounds, and said, through clinched teeth: "To think that there should
have been such a fool bearing the name of Muir! He's been gushing to
Madge about that speculator, and we shall yet have to take her as we
would an infection.
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