Olive had intimated to Doctor Vaughan that Madeline had taken some, perhaps unsafe, steps in the pursuit of her enemies. He, understanding the impetuosity of the girl, as well as her reckless fearlessness, could not conceal the anxiety he felt. Acting under an impulse of disinterested kindness, Clarence Vaughan crossed the room and sat down by Madeline's side. "Miss Madeline," he said, as respectfully as if to an empress, "we, Mrs. Girard and myself, cannot get rid of the idea that somehow you partly belong to us; that we ought to be given a little, just a very little, authority over you." There was a shade of bitterness in the girl's answer. "You have the _right_ to exercise authority over me, if you choose to do so. You are my benefactors." They felt the reproof of her words. This keen-witted, uncontrollable girl, was putting up barrier upon barrier between herself and their desire to serve her. Very quietly he answered her: "You do us an injustice, when you suggest that we claim your confidence on the score of any indebtedness on your part. It has been our happiness to serve you. If we have not your esteem, if we may not stand toward you in the light of a brother and sister, anxious only for your welfare and happiness, then we have no claim upon you." "My happiness!" The face was averted, but the lips were pale and drawn, and the words came through them like a moan. Olive stirred uneasily. She could see that the girl was suffering, although she did not guess at the cause. "Yes," continued Clarence, laying his hand gently upon hers; "Madeline,--will you let me call you Madeline?--will you let me be your brother? I have no sister, almost no kin; I won't be an exacting brother," smilingly. "I won't overstep the limits you set me, but we must have done with this nonsense about benefactors, and gratitude, and all that." No answer, eyes down dropped, face still half-averted, and looking as if hardening into marble. "What is my fate?" still holding her hand. "Can you accept so unworthy a brother?" "Yes," in such a cold, far-away tone. He lifted the hand to his lips. "Thank you, Madeline," he said, as if she had done him high honor. Madeline felt her courage failing her. How could she listen to him, talk to him, with anything like sisterly freedom, and not prove false to her resolve to further his cause with Claire? And yet how could she refuse him the trust he asked of her? It was very pleasant to know that he was thus interested in her; she felt herself slipping quickly into a day-dream in which nothing was distinct save that there existed a bond between them, that he had claimed the right to exercise authority over her, and that she was very, very glad even to be his slave. Listening to his voice, a smile crept to her lips, and-- "The eyes smiled too, But 'twas as if remembering they had wept, And knowing they would some day weep again."