"Why, you did not stay as long as you intended, Madeline." "No, I begged papa to bring me home; I have seen enough of New York; I never was made for fashionable life, Effie." "And you really have come back to us, Madeline, perfectly free, notwithstanding all the fortunes that have been laid at your feet." "How did you hear all this, Effie? "Miss Matilda used to write us such descriptions of your numerous conquests, that I often felt as if we had lost you altogether." "You need never be afraid of such empty-headed fops as I have seen, Effie; I scarcely met a man of sense while I was away." Madeline felt the need of some strong guiding hand in her present state of feeling; and, after she had been at home a few weeks, begged her father to allow her to visit Aunt Clara once more. Mr. Hamilton felt as if he could scarcely spare her. "I shall not stay long, papa; I do so want to see my dear aunt, and she has written for me so often." "You may go, Madeline, if you will promise me to return in one month; no longer, my daughter; I want you near me, my dear child, for I am not so well as usual." "Perhaps I had better stay, papa." "No, Madeline, you can go; if I need you, I will send for you." On the evening before her departure, she had visited the library, and turning over some familiar books, she came at last to her portfolio, that she had used when a school-girl. Listlessly looking through its contents, a card dropped out, on which was sketched what she was sure was a picture of herself, as she appeared on the evening when she had first met Roland. It was a spirited little picture; but who had drawn it? She hurried to Effie, and holding up the card, said, "Do you know who sketched this?" "I think it must have been Roland; for one evening when he was here, he was a long time in the library; and I know that he draws beautifully." Looking on the back of the card, she saw the initials R.G.B., and soon the sweet memento was placed among Madeline's treasures. Taking Hector as her companion, she sought the dearest spot around Woodcliff, and soon seated on the rock near the old flag-staff, memory wandered over the past. The incident in the library had touched her deeply; but then that was simply a memory of childhood, and she had doubtless been forgotten since that time, or only remembered as an old friend; for had not Lavinia declared more than once that Roland was actually betrothed to Helen Thornly; for her own cousin had said so. Ere she left the shore, she visited old Peter. He was living yet, and hastened to meet the young lady whom he had so often seen on the sea-shore.