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. She understood
that his love was an affection resulting from pity and the strong,
genial forces of his nature. The girl who could kindle his spirit and
inspire the best and most enthusiastic efforts of his manhood must be
like Miss Wildmere--strong, beautiful, capable of keeping step with
him under society's critical eyes, and not a mere shadow of a woman
like herself. Her morbidly acute fancy recalled the ballroom. She saw
him again after his return, encircling the fair girl with his arm, and
looking down into her eyes with a meaning unmistakable. Oh, why had
she gone to that fatal party! The past, in contrast to the present and
the promise of the future, seemed happiness itself.

What could she do? What should she do? The more she thought of it
the more unendurable her position appeared. In her vivid
self-consciousness the old relations could not continue. Heretofore
his caresses had been a matter of course, of habit. They could be so