shining in
the air.

"Ready for action," she murmured. "That means--can it mean that Lucian
Davlin is at last in our power? Can those detectives have solved the
mystery? Oh! how can I wait until night!"

She fairly flew along now, eager to keep in motion. On, on she went,
over the stile, through the glittering white-robed grove; on, until
she reached Hagar's cottage. It was locked and deserted, as she knew,
but she cared not for that. She must walk somewhere, then why not
here?

For a moment she stood on the snow-laden door stone, and gazed about
her. Then swiftly, as swiftly as before, she flew down the path--the
same path she had taken on the Summer day when she had heard from
Hagar's lips her mother's story. When she reached the tree in whose
arms she had nestled so often, where she had listened to the bargain
between her step-father and decrepit old Amos Adams, and where she had
been wooed by Lucian Davlin--she paused. There, coming toward her, was
Lucian Davlin himself.

"What a fatality!" muttered the girl. "He is coming to meet me; has
been watching me, perhaps."

She stood calmly gazing up at the snow-laden branches, and again she
saw herself standing underneath them, a hesitating girl, wondering if
she could let her lover go away alone. Then she turned her head and
her eyes met those of Lucian Davlin.

"Good morning, Miss Payne," he said, lifting his hat with his usual
grace. "I am happy to know that we have one taste in common--a love of
nature in this disguise. Is not the wintry world beautiful?"

"Beautiful, indeed," replied Madeline, resuming her walk homeward.
"The trees are fairy palaces. It is lovelier than Summer, is it not?"

"It is very lovely," gazing not at the trees but down into her face,
"but--so cold."

She understood his meaning and replied, calmly: "Cold? Yes; it is not
Summer."

"No," he assented, with a sad intonation, "it is not Summer. Miss
Payne, Madeline, will it ever be Summer again?"

Madeline looked up and about her, and smiled as she did so. "Yes," she
replied, "it will be Summer--soon."

He had turned and retraced his steps at her side. She was walking
swiftly again, and for some time neither spoke. When they entered the
grounds of the manor, he said, half deprecatingly:

"Madeline, may I ask this one question?"

"Yes," quietly.

"I saw you pause under that tree and look about you," he said, slowly;
"was it because you thought of other days, and of me?"

Slowl