ill go anywhere with you. Indeed I did not mean what I
said, but I am very unhappy."

"You are tired and wet," answered Graham, "but we will soon
set that to rights; you will see to-morrow, you will not be
unhappy at all. Old friends like you and me, Madelon, should
not cry at seeing each other again; should they?"

Talking to her in his kind, cheerful way, they walked briskly
along till they arrived at the hotel. Madelon was tired out,
and he at once ordered a room, fire, and supper for her, and
handed her over to the care of a good-natured chambermaid.

"Good night, Madelon. I will come and see after you to-morrow
morning," he said smiling, as he left her.

She looked up at him for a moment with a most pitiful, eager
longing in her eyes; then suddenly seizing his hands in her
wild excited way--"Oh, Monsieur Horace, Monsieur Horace, if I
could only tell you!" she cried; and then, as he left the
room, and closed the door, she flung herself upon the floor in
quite another passion of tears than that she had given way to
in the Promenade a Sept Heures.

CHAPTER XVII.

The old Letter.

When Horace went to see after Madelon the next morning, he
found her already up and dressed. She opened her bedroom door
in answer to his knock, and stood before him, her eyes cast
down, her wavy hair all smooth and shining, even the old black
silk frock arranged and neat--a very different little Madelon
from the passionate, despairing, weeping child of the evening
before.

"Good morning, Madelon," said Graham, taking her hand and
looking at her with a smile and a gleam in his kind eyes; "how
are you to-day? Did you sleep well?"

"I am very well, Monsieur," says Madelon, with her downcast
eyes. "I have been up a long time. I have been thinking of
what I shall do; I do not know, will you help me?"

"We will talk of that presently," said Graham, "but first we
must have some breakfast; come downstairs with me now."

"Monsieur Horace," said Madelon, drawing back, "please I
wanted to tell you, I know I was very naughty last night, and
I am very sorry;" and she looked up with her eyes full of
tears.

"I don't think we either of us quite knew what we were doing
last night," said Graham, squeezing her little hand in his;
"let us agree to forget it, for the present at all events; I
want you to come with me now; there is a lady downstairs who
very much wishes to see you."

"To see me?" said Madelon, shrinking back again.

"Ye