"Wait before you pass judgment; now I am gone."
Madeline quitted the drawing-room and sauntered leisurely up-stairs.
When Olive reappeared, Claire carried out the little programme, as arranged, and hastened to join Madeline, musing as she went:
"What could have induced that odd darling to confide in stupid little me, while she leaves wise, thoughtful Olive in the dark?"
Madeline was pacing the floor when Claire entered the room. She motioned her to a chair, and pushed the bolt in the door, thus rendering intrusion impossible.
"What can you be thinking of, Madeline, with that gloomy face?" exclaimed Claire, nestling into an easy chair as she spoke.
"I am thinking, Claire," replied Madeline, gazing down at her sadly, "of the first time I ever saw your sister, and of the errand on which she came to me. How full of hope I was that morning! How radiant the day seemed, and how confident I was of happiness to come; as confident as you are to-day, Claire, darling."
There was something in Madeline's tone that sounded almost like pity, as she uttered these last words. Claire started and colored, but still was silent.
"Olive did a brave, generous deed, but at that time I almost hated her for it," musingly.
"Oh, no, Madeline," interposed Claire, "you don't mean just that, I am sure. You never really hated our noble, unhappy Olive."