r of tiny feet sounded on the stairs. One by one, out of the
shadows, old joys and old loves came toward her; forgotten hopes and
lost dreams. Hands long since mingled with the dust clasped hers once
more with perfect understanding--warm lips were crushed upon hers with
the old ecstasy and the old thrill. Even the sorrows, from which the
bitterness had strangely vanished, came back out of the darkness, not
with hesitancy, but with assurance, as though already welcomed by a
friend.

Alden did not come home to luncheon, so Madame made only a pretence of
eating. As the long afternoon wore away, she reproached herself bitterly
for her harshness. There had been pain in the boy's eyes when he bent to
kiss her--and she had turned her cheek.

She would have faced any sort of privation for this one beloved son--the
only gift Life had not as yet taken back. Perhaps, after all, he knew
best, for have not men led and women followed since, back in Paradise,
the First Woman gave her hand trustingly to the First Man?

[Sidenote: Visions in the Crystal Ball]

Long, slanting sunbeams, alight with the gold of afternoon, came into
the room by another window, and chanced upon the crystal ball. Madame's
face grew thoughtful. "I wonder," she mused, "if I dare to try!"

She was half afraid of her own sorcery, because, so many times, that
which she had seen had come true. Once, when a child was ill, she had
gazed into the crystal and seen the little white coffin that, a week
later, was carried out of the front door. Again, she had seen the vision
of a wedding which was unexpectedly fulfilled later, when a passing
cousin begged the hospitality of her house for a marriage.

She drew her chair up to the table, made sure of the proper light, and
leaned over the ball. For a time there was darkness, then confused
images that meant nothing, then at last, clear and distinct as a flash
of lightning, her own son, holding a woman in his arms.

Madame pushed the ball aside, profoundly disturbed. Was the solution of
their problem, then, to come in that way? And who was the woman?

In the dazzling glimpse she had caught no detail save a shimmering white
gown and her son's face half hidden by the masses of the woman's hair. A
faint memory of the hair persisted; she had never seen anything quite
like it. Was it brown, or golden, or--perhaps red? Yes, red--that was
it, and in all the circle of their acquaintance there was no woman with
red hair.

[Si