ttle ghost" on his arm, then tossed her, breathless from
scarce an effort, on the lounge, whence she looked at him in laughing
affection. This strong, superb creature was indeed another and an
alien being, and needed no aid from him. Before he was conscious
of flagging in his step, she said, quietly, "You are growing tired,
Graydon. Suppose we return to the piazza."

"Yes," he said, a trifle bitterly, "you are the stronger now. The
'little ghost' has vanished utterly."

"A woman is better than a ghost," was her reply.

He and Miss Wildmere strolled away down the same path on which Madge
had told him that she could not be his sister. Mr. Muir was tired,
and went to his room in no very amiable humor. Mrs. Muir waited for
Graydon's return, feeling that, although the office of chaperon had in
a sense been forced upon her, she could not depart without seeing Miss
Wildmere again. The young lady at last appeared, and, believing that
she had made all the points she cared for that night, did not tax Mrs.
Muir's patience beyond a few moments. While she lingered she looked
curiously at Madge, who was going through a Virginia reel as if she
fully shared in the decided and almost romping spirit with which it
was danced. She was uncertain whether or not she saw a possible
rival in Graydon's thoughts, but she knew well that she had found
a competitor for sovereignty in all social circles where they might
appear together. This fact in itself was sufficient to secure the
arrogant girl's ill-will and jealousy. A scarcely perceptible smile,
that boded no good for poor Madge, passed over her face, and then she
took a cordial leave of Graydon, and retired with Mrs. Muir.

He remained at the window watching, with a satirical smile, the scene
within. People of almost every age, from elderly men and matrons down
to boys and girls, were participating in the old-fashioned dance. The
air was resonant with laughter and music. In the rollicking fun Madge
appeared to have found her element. No step was lighter or quicker
than hers, and merriment rippled away before her as if she were the
genius of mirth. Her dark eyes were singularly brilliant, and burned
as with a suppressed excitement.

"She is bound to have her fling like the rest, I suppose," he
muttered; "and that romp is more to her than the offer of a brother's
love and help--an offer half forgotten already, no doubt. Yet she
puzzles one. She never was a weak girl mentally. She was alway