He smoked and he waited; the time came, and passed; his cigar expired; the shadows deepened--but still he waited. And he waited in vain. No light form advanced through, the gathering night; no sweet voice greeted him. The time was far past now, and, muttering an oath, the disappointed lover strode away, and was lost in the night. Madeline was standing in her own room, the threshold of which John Arthur had never crossed since the day when a silent form was borne from it, and laid in that peaceful home, the churchyard. She had just received the summons, for which, only, she lingered--the command of Mr. Arthur to attend at the altar of hospitality, and pour, for Mr. Amos Adams, the tea. She was attired in a neat dark garment which was vastly becoming. She had made her toilet with more than usual care, as if, perhaps, to do honor to her ancient suitor--at least so thought Mr. Arthur, when she presented herself before him. She had put her chiefest treasures in a little, a very little, travelling bag. And now she threw across her arm a large cloak, took her hat, veil, and bag, and descended softly to the hall below. It was faintly lighted from the lower end, and Madeline deposited her belongings in a darkened niche near a door, peeped put into the night that had come on cloudy and starless, and entered the room where waited the two conspirators, and supper. John Arthur was more bland and smiling than Madeline had ever before known him, while as for old Amos, he nearly lost himself in a maze of grins and chuckles, but displayed a very unloverlike appetite, nevertheless, and divided his attention pretty evenly between the beautiful face of Madeline, and the viands on the table. Madeline betrayed no sign of surprise at her step-papa's unwonted cordiality, and no annoyance at the ogling and chuckling of her antiquated suitor. In truth, she favored him with more than one expressive smile, the meaning of which he little guessed, as she contrasted him once more with handsome Lucian Davlin, and smiled again at the picture of his coming defeat. The meal was partaken of in comparative silence, all apparently quite satisfied with their own thoughts--ah, how different! It was not until old Jane, the servant, had been dismissed that Mr. Arthur drew his chair a trifle nearer that of his friend, and leaning his arms upon the table, looked across at Madeline, and said: "My dear, I believe you are aware of the honor this gentleman desires to confer upon you? I think I have hinted at the truth upon one or two occasions?" Madeline veiled her too expressive eyes behind their long lashes, but made no reply. "It is my desire," he continued, surveying with satisfaction the appearance of humility with which his words were received, "and the desire of Mr. Adams as well, that we should come to a satisfactory understanding to-night. We will, therefore, settle the preliminaries at once:--this is your desire, I think, Mr. Adams?"