f facts, when we are, as it were, brought face
to face with them, and held there till we recognise them? No
means of evasion, no hope of appeal from what is, in its very
nature, fixed, unalterable, irrevocable; the sin is committed,
the loved one gone, the friendship broken and dead, and for us
remains the realization in remorse, and heart-breaking, and
despair.

Which of us is strong enough to wrestle with facts such as
these? which one of us can look them long in the face and
live? In the desperate recoil, some of us find ourselves
recklessly striving to forget and ignore them, and some find a
surer refuge in facts that are stronger still than they; but
to one and all, in kindly compassion to human weakness, each
new emotion, each passing interest and trivial incident,
combines to interpose a barrier between us and the terrible
moment that overwhelmed us; and time which, in later years,
seems to drag out the slow hours and days into long ages of
dreary grief, can deal swiftly and mercifully with a little
child. Hardly had Madelon grasped the true measure of her
grievous loss, or tasted its full bitterness, when the
reaction came with a great burst of tears, and crouching down
in the corner by the window where she had spent so many hours
of the previous day, she sobbed away half the terror and awe
that were oppressing her poor little heart. Presently she
began to grow sorry for herself in a vague, half-conscious
sort of way--poor little Madelon, sitting there all alone
crying, no one to help her, no one to comfort her--then the
sobs came at longer and longer intervals as she gradually lost
consciousness of where she was, or why she was there; and with
the tears still wet on her cheek, she was nearly asleep again,
when she was roused by some one bringing a light into the
room; it was Graham, who had come to fetch something he had
left on the table, and to see that all was quiet.

Madelon was too much accustomed to late expectant vigils to be
startled; and, indeed, in her drowsy state, her first
impression was only the familiar one of a welcome arrival. "Me
voici, papa!" she cried, jumping up promptly; and then she saw
the young man coming towards her, and with a suddenly revived
consciousness of the still, white-sheeted form on the bed, she
sank down on her low seat again, the sensation of blank misery
all revived.

Graham, on his side, was not a little surprised at the small
figure that had started up to meet h