[Illustration: "You delightfully horrible girl!"--page 191.] This was Madeline's opportunity. And as soon as Olive was out of hearing, she turned to Claire saying: "Claire, I have not told you, nor Olive, all that I have discovered. For reasons, which you will understand later, I have thought it best to make them known to you first. We must invent some excuse for absenting ourselves from the parlor for a while." Claire looked grave and somewhat startled for an instant, but recovering her composure she said, simply: "I am at your disposal, dear." "I think I had better go to my room and lie down," meaningly. "Tell Olive, when she comes in, that I feel fatigued, and have gone to my room to rest. Then you had better plead letters to write, and follow me. Can you manage it?" "Easily," smiled Claire. "Why, Bonnie, Aileen, this becomes more and more mysterious and interesting." "Wait before you pass judgment; now I am gone." Madeline quitted the drawing-room and sauntered leisurely up-stairs. When Olive reappeared, Claire carried out the little programme, as arranged, and hastened to join Madeline, musing as she went: "What could have induced that odd darling to confide in stupid little me, while she leaves wise, thoughtful Olive in the dark?" Madeline was pacing the floor when Claire entered the room. She motioned her to a chair, and pushed the bolt in the door, thus rendering intrusion impossible. "What _can_ you be thinking of, Madeline, with that gloomy face?" exclaimed Claire, nestling into an easy chair as she spoke. "I am thinking, Claire," replied Madeline, gazing down at her sadly, "of the first time I ever saw your sister, and of the errand on which she came to me. How full of hope I was that morning! How radiant the day seemed, and how confident I was of happiness to come; as confident as you are to-day, Claire, darling." There was something in Madeline's tone that sounded almost like pity, as she uttered these last words. Claire started and colored, but still was silent. "Olive did a brave, generous deed, but at that time I almost hated her for it," musingly. "Oh, no, Madeline," interposed Claire, "you don't mean just that, I am sure. You never really hated our noble, unhappy Olive." "I felt very wicked, I assure you," smiling faintly. Then, abruptly: "How should you have felt, similarly placed?" "I?" wonderingly; "mercy! I can't tell." "Claire, think," in a tone almost of entreaty. "I want to know--I must know." "You must know? Why, Madeline?" "Because--because I want to find out what is in you; how strong you are." Claire looked more and more mystified. "State your case, then," she said, quietly. "I will try and analyze myself." "Good; now, Claire Keith, suppose that you love some man very much, and you trust him without knowing why, for no other reason than that you love him. When you are happiest, because you have but just parted from your lover--" Claire started and colored a little.