She was the first to break the silence, however. "Why do you look at me so?" she said, setting her tea-cup down, and turning to Horace with a sudden smile and blush. "I am trying to adjust my ideas," he answered, smiling too; "I am trying to reconcile the little Madelon I used to know with this grand young lady I have found here." "Ah, you will never see that little Madelon again," said the girl, shaking her head rather sorrowfully; "she is gone for ever." "How is that?" said Graham. "You have grown tall, you wear long gowns, and plait up your hair, I see; but is that a reason----" "Ah, how can one survive one's old life?" said Madelon, plaintively; "one ought not, ought one? All is so changed with me, things are so different, the old days are so utterly gone-- I try not to think of them any more; that is the best; and my old self is gone with them, I sometimes think--and that is best too." She sat leaning forward, staring at the dull red coals; and Graham was silent for a moment. "Then you have forgotten the old days altogether?" he said at last. "I never speak of them," she answered slowly; "no, I have not forgotten--it is not in me to forget, I think--but I do not speak of them; of what use? It is like a dream now, that old time, and no one cares for one's dreams but oneself." "Am I part of the dream too, Madelon? For I think I belong more to that old time you talk about, which is not so very remote, after all, than to the present. I had a little friend Madelon once, but I feel quite a stranger with this fashionable Miss Linders before me." "You are laughing at me," said Madelon, opening her eyes wide. "I am not at all fashionable, I think. I don't know what you mean; what should make you think such a thing, Monsieur Horace?" "Well, your general appearance," he answered. "It suggests balls, fetes, concerts, operas----" Madelon shook her head, laughing. "That is a very deceptive appearance," she said. "Aunt Barbara and I never go anywhere but to classes, and masters, and to a small tea-party occasionally, and to see pictures sometimes." "But how is that?--does Aunt Barbara not approve of society?" "Oh, yes, but she thinks I am not old enough," answered Madelon, demurely. "So I am not out yet, and I have not been to a ball since I was ten years old." "And do you like that sort of thing? It does not sound at all lively," said Graham. "It is rather dull," replied Madelon, "simply; but then I think everything in England is--is _triste_--I beg your pardon," she added, quickly, colouring, "I did not mean to complain." "No, no, I understand. You need not mind what you say to me, Madelon; I want to know what you are doing, what sort of life you are leading, how you get on. So you find England _triste?_ In what way?"