Three years of travel had not _impaired_ but greatly _improved_ her looks and style, and those who thought her handsome when she went away exclaimed now at her matchless loveliness, and Magdalen knew herself that she was beautiful, and was glad for Roger’s sake. Every thought and feeling now had a direct reference to him, and when at last the day of the sale arrived, she was sick with excitement, and read Guy’s message in bed. He had promised to telegraph as soon as Millbank was hers, and all through the morning she waited and watched and her head throbbed with pain and she grew more and more impatient, until at last came the telegram. “Millbank is yours. Mr. Roger Irving neither here nor coming. GUY.” Then Magdalen arose and dressed herself, and seemed like one insane as she flew about the room and packed a small hat-box preparatory for to-morrow’s journey. She was going to Millbank to execute the deed, and then on to Schodick with Guy. Alice helped her all she could, and tried to keep her quiet, and make her eat and rest lest her strength should fail entirely. But Magdalen was not tired, she said, nor sick now. She felt better than she had done in years, and her eyes were bright as stars and her cheeks like damask roses when she bade Alice good-by and started for Belvidere. Guy met her at the station, and conducted her to the new hotel, which had been built since she left the place. The windows of her room commanded a view of Millbank, and she looked with tearful eyes at her old home and Roger’s, and thought, “It will be ours again.” She had no doubt of that, no doubt of Roger, and her heart thrilled with ecstasy as she anticipated the joyous future. There had not been much excitement at the sale, Guy told her; but few seemed to care for so large a house, and the bids had ceased altogether when once it was rumored that _he_ was merely bidding for _her_,—for Magdalen. “I believe they suspected your intention,” Guy said, “and you got Millbank some thousands cheaper than I thought you would. It is a grand old place, and has not been injured by its recent proprietors.” Magdalen did not wish to go into the house while Mrs. Walter Scott was there, but she rode through the grounds in the afternoon, and the next day started with Guy for Schodick, which they reached about three o’clock. “Mr. Irving was in town,” the landlord said, “and slightly indisposed, he believed; at least he was not at his office that morning, and the clerk said he was at his house, sick.” “I am going to him at once,” Magdalen said to Guy. “You have been there. You can direct me,” and within half an hour after their arrival in Schodick she was on her way to Roger’s house with the deed of Millbank in her pocket. CHAPTER LIII. MAGDALEN AT ROGER’S HOME.