Madeline's eyes were moist when she lifted them from the perusal of this letter. "Bright, beautiful, brave Claire," she murmured; "who could help loving her?" Then her eyes fell again upon the letter, and she started: "'You will become that and more to Doctor Vaughan,'" she read. "What can she mean? Can it be possible that, after all, I have betrayed myself to her?" She re-read the letter from beginning to end, her face flushing and paling. "Oh!" she whispered softly, "she has read my heart, and we are playing at cross purposes! What a queer rivalry," the girl actually laughed; "a rivalry of renunciation. Does she yet know how he loves her, I wonder?" Then, her face growing graver, "she won't be long in making that discovery now." She took up Clarence Vaughan's letter, almost dreading to break the seal. MY BRAVE LITTLE SISTER: You perceive, I have commenced my tyranny. And instead of being able to grant favors to my new sister, I am reduced to the necessity of begging them at her hands. In a word, I want to come to Bellair. Not to be a meddlesome adviser; I am too firmly a convert to your method of procedure for that. Besides, I should have to declare war upon Miss Keith if I presumed thus far. But I do desire to further your plans, and to this end would make a suggestion that has occurred to me since hearing of your marvelous detective work. Believe me, I cannot express the admiration I feel for your daring and tact. I have no longer the faintest scruple as to trusting this issue, so important to all of us, in your hands. And I am more than proud of such a sister. May I come to Bellair, say on Monday next? I will stop at the little station a few miles this side of the village, and walk or drive over, and find my way to the cottage of your old nurse, where you can meet me, unless you have a better place to suggest. I shall anxiously await your answer, and am your brother to command. C. E. VAUGHAN. Madeline's cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining. "How they all trust me!" she ejaculated; "and they always shall. I will never be false to their friendship; no, not if to serve them my heart's blood must become wormwood and gall." She re-read all her letters, but would not allow herself to linger too long over that of Clarence Vaughan. She had resolved to have no more weakness, no more outbreaks of passion. She was very stern with herself. Even as a friend and brother, she would not allow her thoughts to dwell too much upon him, until she grew stronger, and more perfect in her renunciation. Then she sat down at her humble little table, and answered her letters. To Olive she wrote a sweet, cheery note, telling of her gratitude, her affection, her hope for the future; and then she added a womanlike P. S. as follows: