had done in standing there and speaking
at his bedroom door, and yet she would not have lost the chance for
worlds. There had been nothing in what had passed between her and the
invalid. The very words, spoken elsewhere, or in the presence of her
mother and sister, would have been insipid and valueless; and yet she
sat there feeding on them as though they were of flavour so rich that
she could not let the sweetness of them pass from her. She had been
stunned at the idea of poor Peregrine's love, and yet she never asked
herself what was this new feeling. She did not inquire--not yet at
least--whether there might be danger in such feelings.

She remained there, with eyes fixed on the burning coals, till her
mother came up. "What, Madeline," said Lady Staveley, "are you here
still? I was in hopes you would have been in bed before this."

"My headache is gone now, mamma; and I waited because--"

"Well, dear; because what?" and her mother came and stood over her
and smoothed her hair. "I know very well that something has been the
matter. There has been something; eh, Madeline?"

"Yes, mamma."

"And you have remained up that we may talk about it. Is that it,
dearest?"

"I did not quite mean that, but perhaps it will be best. I can't be
doing wrong, mamma, in telling you."

"Well; you shall judge of that yourself;" and Lady Staveley sat down
on the sofa so that she was close to the chair which Madeline still
occupied. "As a general rule I suppose you could not be doing wrong;
but you must decide. If you have any doubt, wait till to-morrow."

"No, mamma; I will tell you now. Mr. Orme--"

"Well, dearest. Did Mr. Orme say anything specially to you before he
went away?"

"He--he--"

"Come to me, Madeline, and sit here. We shall talk better then."
And the mother made room beside her on the sofa for her daughter,
and Madeline, running over, leaned with her head upon her mother's
shoulder. "Well, darling; what did he say? Did he tell you that he
loved you?"

"Yes, mamma."

"And you answered him--"

"I could only tell him--"

"Yes, I know. Poor fellow! But, Madeline, is he not an excellent
young man;--one, at any rate, that is lovable? Of course in such a
matter the heart must answer for itself. But I, looking at the offer
as a mother--I could have been well pleased--"

"But, mamma, I could not--"

"Well, love, there shall be an end of it; at least for the present.
When I heard that he had gone suddenly away I