"But George will--" "Say things to you that will be rather startling to your vain old brain, Madge, if you force yourself upon him, and I'll take care that you do not." "And this is my brother!" cried Aunt Marguerite indignantly. "Uncle Luke is right," said Madelaine quietly, speaking of him as in the old girlish days. "If I might advise you, Miss Vine." "Miss Margue--No, no," cried the old lady, hastily. "Miss Vine; yes, Miss Vine. You will help me, my child. I want my brother to know that it is not my fault." The old contemptuous manner was gone, and she caught Madelaine's arm and pressed it spasmodically with her bony fingers. "You could not go to Mr Vine at a worse time," said Madelaine. "He is suffering acutely." "But if you come with me," whispered Aunt Marguerite. "Oh, my child, I have been very, very hard to you, but you will not turn and trample on me now I am down." "I will help you all I can," said Madelaine gravely; "and I am helping you now in advising you to wait." "I--I thought it was for me best," sobbed the old lady piteously. "Hush! don't speak to me aloud. Mr Leslie may hear." She glanced sharply round to where Leslie was standing with his back to them, gazing moodily from the window. "Yes; Mr Leslie may hear," said Madelaine sadly, and then in spite of the long years of dislike engendered by Aunt Marguerite's treatment, she felt her heart stirred by pity for the lonely, suffering old creature upon whose head was being visited the sufferings of the stricken household. "Let me go with you to your room," she said gently. "No, no!" cried Aunt Marguerite, with a frightened look. "You hate me too, and you will join the others in condemning me. Let me go to my brother now." "It would be madness," said Madelaine gently; and she tried to take the old woman's hand, but at that last word, Aunt Marguerite started from her, and stretched out her hands to keep her off. "Don't say that," she said in a low voice, and with a quick glance at her brother and at Leslie, to see if they had heard. Then catching Madelaine's hand, she whispered, "It is such a horrible word. Luke said it to me before you came. He said I must be mad, and George might hear it and think so too." "Let me go with you to your room." "But--but," faltered the old woman, with her lips quivering, and a wildly appealing look in her eyes, "you--you don't think that." "No," said Madelaine quietly; "I do not think that." Aunt Marguerite uttered a sigh full of relief. "I only think," continued Madelaine in her matter-of-fact, straightforward way, "that you have been very vain, prejudiced, and foolish, but I am wrong to reproach you now." "No, no," whispered Aunt Marguerite, clinging to her, and looking at her in an abject, piteous way; "you are quite right, my dear. Come with me, talk to me, my child. I deserve what you say, and--and I feel so lonely now."