ssly by that trifling
error in the thickness of the valves in his spinning machine. He had
to give half his profits to Strutt, the local blacksmith, before Strutt
would tell him that he had only to chalk his valves! The thickness of a
coating of chalk made all the difference. Some trifle like that, depend
on it, interfered with my machine. You see, I am obliged to make my
experiments at night, and in the dark, for fear of being discovered
and anticipated. I have been on the verge--nay, _over_ the verge--of
success. 'No imaginable invention,' Bishop Wilkins says, 'could prove
of greater benefit to the world, or greater glory to the author.' A few
weeks ago that glory was mine!"

"Why a few weeks ago?" asked Barton. "Was your machine more advanced
then than when I met you?"

"I cannot explain what had happened to check its motion," said Winter,
wearily; "but a few weeks ago my _machine acted_, and I may say that I
knew the sensations of a bird on the wing."

"Do you mean that you actually _flew_?"

"For a very short distance, I did indeed, sir!"

Barton looked at him curiously: two currents of thought--one wild and
credulous, the other practical and professional--surged and met in his
brain. The professional current proved the stronger for the moment.

"Good-night," he said. "You are tiring and over-exciting yourself. I
will call again soon."

He _did_ call again, and Winter told him a tale which will be repeated
in its proper place.

CHAPTER XIV.--Found.

"All precious things, discovered late,
To those that seek them issue forth;
For Love, in sequel, works with Fate,
And draws the veil from hidden worth."
--The Sleeping Beauty.

That Margaret and Barton were losing their hearts to each other could
not, of course, escape the keen eye of Mrs. St. John Deloraine. She
noticed that Margaret, though perfectly restored to health, and lacking
only the clear brown over the rose of her cheeks, was by no means so
light of heart as in the very earliest days of her recovery. Love makes
men and women poor company, and, to speak plainly, takes the fun out of
them. Margaret was absent-minded, given to long intervals of silence,
a bad listener--all of them things hateful to Mrs. St. John Delo-raine,
but pardoned, in this instance, by the benevolent lady. Margaret was apt
to blush without apparent cause, to start when a knock came to the door,
to leave the room hurriedly, and need to be sought