was not
clear whether he meant his protection for last night or forever; but I
am happy to say be offered me no word that was not honorable. And he saw
me safely here to Miss Kingsley's home."

III. Sister and Brother

Then Madeline returned to the little parlor with the brother whom she
had hardly recognized.

"Majesty!" he exclaimed. "To think of your being here!"

The warmth stole back along her veins. She remembered how that pet name
had sounded from the lips of this brother who had given it to her.

"Alfred!"

Then his words of gladness at sight of her, his chagrin at not being
at the train to welcome her, were not so memorable of him as the way he
clasped her, for he had held her that way the day he left home, and she
had not forgotten. But now he was so much taller and bigger, so dusty
and strange and different and forceful, that she could scarcely think
him the same man. She even had a humorous thought that here was another
cowboy bullying her, and this time it was her brother.

"Dear old girl," he said, more calmly, as he let her go, "you haven't
changed at all, except to grow lovelier. Only you're a woman now, and
you've fulfilled the name I gave you. God! how sight of you brings back
home! It seems a hundred years since I left. I missed you more than all
the rest."

Madeline seemed to feel with his every word that she was remembering
him. She was so amazed at the change in him that she could not believe
her eyes. She saw a bronzed, strong-jawed, eagle-eyed man, stalwart,
superb of height, and, like the cowboys, belted, booted, spurred. And
there was something hard as iron in his face that quivered with his
words. It seemed that only in those moments when the hard lines broke
and softened could she see resemblance to the face she remembered. It
was his manner, the tone of his voice, and the tricks of speech
that proved to her he was really Alfred. She had bidden good-by to a
disgraced, disinherited, dissolute boy. Well she remembered the handsome
pale face with its weakness and shadows and careless smile, with the
ever-present cigarette hanging between the lips. The years had passed,
and now she saw him a man--the West had made him a man. And Madeline
Hammond felt a strong, passionate gladness and gratefulness, and a
direct check to her suddenly inspired hatred of the West.

"Majesty, it was good of you to come. I'm all broken up. How did you
ever do it? But never mind that now. Tell me about