Margaret promised, and Madaline, plainly dressed, went to see her mother. It was sweet, after those long, weary months of humiliation and despair, to lay her head on that faithful breast and hear whispered words of love and affection. When the warmth of their first greeting was over, Margaret was amazed at the change in her child. Madaline had grown taller, the girlish graceful figure had developed into a model of perfect womanhood. The dress that she wore became her so well that the change in the marvelous face amazed her the most, it was so wonderfully wonderful, so fair, so pure, so spirituelle, yet it had so strange a story written upon it--a story she could neither read nor understand. It was not a happy face. The eyes were shadowed, the lips firm, the radiance and brightness that had distinguished her were gone; there were patience and resignation Instead.
"How changed you are, my darling!" said Margaret, as she looked at her. "Who would have thought that my little girl would grow into a tall, stately, beautiful lady, dainty and exquisite? What did Lord Arleigh say to your coming, my darling?"
"He did not say anything," she replied, slowly.
"But was he not grieved to lose you?"
"Lord Arleigh is abroad," said Madaline, gently. "I do not expect that he will return to England just yet."
"Abroad!" repeated Margaret. "Then, my darling, how is it that you are not with him?"
"I could not go," she replied, evasively.
"And you love your husband very much, Madaline, do you not?" inquired Margaret.
"Yes, I love him with all my heart and soul!" was the earnest reply.
"Thank Heaven that my darling is happy!" said Margaret, "I shall find everything easier to bear now that I that."