"I was to blame too, Madeline; I know how my speeches provoke you, and I believe that I uttered them for that very purpose. I receive your apology freely, I hope that you will accept mine. I cannot help my feelings about Roland Bruce, for I do believe that it is he only that prevents your return of my warm affection." Madeline bit her lip, for hasty words were coming again, but she restrained them, and replied, "You are mistaken, Harry, I feel for you the interest of a cousin; nothing else could possibly be entertained; but you will never have to complain again of unkind conduct at my hands; I have been too deeply humbled. I do wish you well, cousin Harry; I would like to see you caring more for better things; then at least, you would have my respect." "Madeline, if you had always been thus kind, I might have been a better man; your scorn has embittered me; but words like these soften my heart, and waken better feelings, even in vain and trifling Harry Castleton." They spent an hour in friendly conversation, and Madeline was greatly relieved, when she parted amicably from her cousin. A familiar step soon followed upon Harry's departure, and Madeline, with her own mischievous smile, said,-- "Now, Roland, have I not been a good girl? I made an humble apology to Harry, for all my naughty ways, and I think that my venerable guardian must be satisfied with his protégé." Roland smiled, and answered, "Follow out your own convictions of right at once, Madeline, as you have done in this case, and you will not go very far astray." "I would have done the same willingly before all that room full, Roland, that they might have known how heartily ashamed I was?" Roland looked upon this fascinating combination of innocent, frank child-nature with true earnest womanhood, and felt convinced that the world would never spoil this fresh young soul. "You look very sad, to-day, good sir; has any thing happened to distress you?" "Nothing now, Madeline; I have only had to tame down some wild, ungoverned fancies." "Here are some of my papers ready for my sage guardian; when I get home, I will send the rest." Roland winced again; for this bundle of parchment reminded him of the night's sore struggle--he could not now see Madeline with the mere regard of a true friend, for the silent hours of midnight communion had fully revealed the state of his heart. CHAPTER XXVIII SEAWEED. The witcheries of the world were rapidly losing their power over Madeline Hamilton--but Nature, calm, beautiful, bright, became more dear, more elevating to her child--for had she not always been her nursing-mother even from earliest childish days? There was perfect harmony between the fresh guileless nature and the green trees, the smiling sky, the deep blue ocean, and the sweet voices among which she rambled; and deeper, fuller than ever was the joy swelling in her young heart, when she could look upward and say, "My Father made them all."