A smile brightens the brown eyes now, and their owner says: "Then don't you see that you have made a mistake—one that, for my sake, you must rectify?"
Claire begins to look rebellious. "No, I don't," she cries, blushing scarlet. "You wicked girl, you have been getting me into a trap!"
Madeline says, very gravely:
"Claire, I want you to trust me in this, as you all have in other things. I want you to let me feel that I have not made the friends I love best, unhappy. I shall leave you soon: if I have been your friend, let me have my way in this one thing. If you don't, all the rest will have been in vain. See, my drama is ended; my enemies are punished. Now let me make my dear ones happy. Do you know, John Arthur has put a new thought in my head. 'Confound you,' he growled; it was his parting benediction, 'I might have known your father's blood ruled you. I might have looked for cunning and intrigue from that confounded Expert's Daughter.' It is true, Claire; I am the daughter of an Expert, a detective, brave and shrewd. Hagar says that I am like my father, and that I have inherited his talents. When I recall the knot we have just unravelled, the war we have just waged, I can but think that my father's chosen calling may have become mine. If the world ever grows stale, if I pine for change or excitement or absorbing occupation, I can go to my father's chief and say, 'I am the daughter of Lionel Payne, the Expert, and I have inherited a measure of my father's talents.' Do you think he will trust his knotty cases to the Expert's Daughter?"
"I think he will, if he is wise. But, Madeline, all this is folly. You will never leave us. Olive wants you; we all want you."
"And you will all have enough of me. But, Claire, do not ask me to stay now. It is better for me, better for all, that I go away. I must let old memories die out. I want to forget old scenes. I want rest. I need to school my wayward nature, to teach my heart to beat calmly, my soul to possess itself in peace. Claire, I must go."
Just here, some one taps softly. It is a servant who holds in her hands a telegram from Olive to Madeline, which runs thus:
All is well. Philip and I start for home to-night. Meet us there without fail, all of you.
Olive.
They read it together, and then Claire burst into tears—tears of joy and thankfulness.