se
upon dinner-time, and the ladies are upstairs in the drawing-
room, I believe," said the old butler who opened the door.

"Upstairs? in the drawing-room?" said Graham; "stop, I will
find my way, Burchett, if you will look after my things."

He ran upstairs; the house was strange to him, but a door
stood open on the first landing, and going in, he found
himself in a drawing-room, where the firelight glowed and
flickered on picture-lined walls, and chintz-covered easy-
chairs and sofas, on an open piano, on flower-stands filled
with hyacinths and crocuses, on the windows looking out on the
dark March night, and the leafless trees in the Park. No one
was there--he saw that at a glance, as he looked round on the
warm, firelit scene; but even as he ascertained the fact, some
one appeared, coming through the curtains that hung over the
folding-doors between the two drawing-rooms--some one who gave
a great start when she saw him, and then came forward blushing
and confused. "My aunt is upstairs,"--she began, then stopped
suddenly, glancing up at this stranger with the lean brown
face, and long rough beard. "Monsieur Horace!" she cried,
springing forward. He saw a tall, slim girl, all in soft
flowing white, he saw two hands stretched out in joyous
welcome, he saw two brown eyes shining with eager gladness and
surprise; and all at once the old picture vanished from his
mind, and he knew that this was Madelon.

CHAPTER II.

Sehnsucht.

Graham had numberless engagements in London, and except at
breakfast, or at lunch perhaps, little was seen of him at his
aunt's house during the first days after his arrival in town.
One evening, however, coming home earlier than usual, he found
the two ladies still in the drawing-room, and joining them at
the fireside, he first made Madelon sing to him, and then,
beginning to talk, the conversation went on till long after
midnight, as he sat relating his travels and adventures.
Presently he brought out his journal, and read extracts from
it, filling up the brief, hurried notes with fuller details as
he went on, and describing to them the plan of his book, some
chapters of which were already written, and which he hoped to
bring out before the season was over. Mrs. Treherne was a
perfect listener; she was sufficiently well informed to make
it worth while to tell her more, and she knew how to put
intelligent questions just at the right moment. As for
Madelon, she had been busily eng