"Yes," continued Clarence, laying his hand gently upon hers; "Madeline,—will you let me call you Madeline?—will you let me be your brother? I have no sister, almost no kin; I won't be an exacting brother," smilingly. "I won't overstep the limits you set me, but we must have done with this nonsense about benefactors, and gratitude, and all that."
No answer, eyes down dropped, face still half-averted, and looking as if hardening into marble.
"What is my fate?" still holding her hand. "Can you accept so unworthy a brother?"
"Yes," in such a cold, far-away tone.
He lifted the hand to his lips. "Thank you, Madeline," he said, as if she had done him high honor.
Madeline felt her courage failing her. How could she listen to him, talk to him, with anything like sisterly freedom, and not prove false to her resolve to further his cause with Claire? And yet how could she refuse him the trust he asked of her?
It was very pleasant to know that he was thus interested in her; she felt herself slipping quickly into a day-dream in which nothing was distinct save that there existed a bond between them, that he had claimed the right to exercise authority over her, and that she was very, very glad even to be his slave. Listening to his voice, a smile crept to her lips, and—
"The eyes smiled too,
But 'twas as if remembering they had wept,
And knowing they would some day weep again."
"I don't intend to give up my claims upon Madeline; I elected her my sister, when I brought her home with me. And I had been flattering myself that I was to have a companion, but I am afraid she will run away from me. She ought to take Claire's place in my home, ought she not? Claire is with me so little," said Olive.
Madeline smiled sadly. "I could never do that," she said; "I could no more fill Claire's place than I could substitute myself for the rays of the sun."