erely sought to amuse you.
What were my flippant letters worth to one who was in earnest?"

"Graydon," said Madge, looking into his eyes with gentle dignity, "you
may do yourself injustice if you will, but you shall not misjudge me.
I have acquired a little of the art of taking care of myself, and you
are doing me a wrong which I cannot permit. I remember everything,
from the time that your kind eyes rested on the pallid, shrinking
child that crept down to the dining-room when we first met, and from
that day to this you have been kind and helpful to me. I said that
I regarded you as one of the best friends I had in the world. Do
you think me insincere? Do you think I forget how kind you were when
society would not have tolerated the ghost I was? I am not one who
forgets and ignores the past--who can go on to new friends with a
frigid shoulder for old ones. Let us end these misunderstandings.
Before the year is out you will probably be engaged, perhaps married.
Our lives will be widely separated. That is inevitable from the nature
of things. But distance and absence can cause no such separation as
results from misunderstanding. If we should not meet again in twenty
years I should be the same loyal friend. Now I've said it, and don't
vex me again by speaking as if I had not said and meant it."

"I can scarcely tell whether your words make me more glad or sad. Each
feeling is deeper than you will ever believe. You certainly give
me the impression that if I marry Stella Wildmere our lives will be
separated."

"You don't take nature, especially woman-nature, into consideration at
all. I am not congenial to Miss Wildmere; she does not like me. It
is nothing against her, but some people are antagonistic. This is
especially true among women, and in this case it is not strange. Our
experiences have been very different. She has ever been a beautiful,
brilliant society-girl. With her at your side you would always be
an object of envy in circles congenial to you, for admiration would
follow her as the light follows day. In the past, you know, I have
not been influenced by society considerations, and in the future they
shall be very secondary. Therefore we of necessity are unlike, and
could never be much company for each other. There is never any use
in trying to ignore the old law of 'like unto like.' I say this in
explanation of what you know is true all the world over. Even
the close ties of kindred often count for little wher