Graydon had not found himself in a sleeping mood until the shadows of night were almost ready to depart, and so came down very late. Mrs. Wildmere, who was on the piazza with her child, informed him, with a deprecatory smile, that Stella had gone to drive with Mr. Arnault. He bit his lip, and went to make a leisurely breakfast. By the time he had finished, Madge came in with a party of young people who had been on a ramble. Her greeting was friendly, but nothing more, and having received a long letter from Mrs. Wayland, she took it to a small summer-house. Graydon soon strayed after her in a listless way, and in no very amiable humor. The greater anxiety had swallowed up the less, and his perturbed thoughts about Madge were now following a light carriage on some wild mountain road. His generous glow of feeling of the night before had passed somewhat, and he was inclined to think that Miss Wildmere's relations to Arnault, whatever they were, placed him, a committed lover, in a rather anomalous position. Since she was absent, however, he would while away an hour with Madge, and try to solve the riddle she had become. She greeted him with a slight smile, and went on with her letter. He watched her curiously and with contracting brow. "Will you ever finish?" he soon asked. "I can read it some other time," she said, laying it down. "Oh, that is asking far too much!" "Is it?" "Confound it, Madge! Why is it that we are drifting further and further apart every day?" "I am not drifting," she said, quietly, "nor do you give that impression. I am just where you found me on your return. Since we are so far apart you must be doing the journeying." "Well, Heaven knows I found you distant enough!" "I beg your pardon; Heaven knows nothing of the kind! It's not my fault that you value friendship so lightly." "You know I wished for so much more." "You thought you did at first, Graydon," she replied, with a quiet smile, "but I imagine that you soon became quite reconciled to my view of the case. The relation would surely prove embarrassing to you. Haven't you since thought that it might?" she asked, with sweet directness. He colored visibly, and was provoked with himself that he did. "If you persist in being at swords' points with Miss Wildmere--" he began, hesitatingly. "I persist in being simply myself, and true to my own perceptions. Wherein have I failed in courtesy toward Miss Wildmere?" "But you dislike her most cordially." "And you like her most cordially and more. Have I not granted your perfect right to do so?" "If you were even the friend you claim to be, you would not be so indifferent." "I have not said I was indifferent. Miss Wildmere is far from indifferent to me. What have I done to gain her ill-will?" "Much, as human nature goes. You have made yourself her rival in beauty and attractiveness." "Is that human nature? If that is the cause of her hostility I should say it is Miss Wildmere's nature."