Her maid came in at length, much to her relief, and began to help her dress for dinner. While her hair was being brushed and combed she listened intently for the sound of carriage wheels. The roads were hard, and sounds travelled far on the still frosty air.
She caught the sounds she had been listening for at length, and her heart seemed to come into her mouth. The beat of the horses' hoofs became as regular as the ticking of a clock. Nearer and nearer drew the sounds, till the maid stopped her brushing, and listened.
"They are coming," she said, with a little catch in her breath. "I did not think they would be here so soon," and she dropped the brushes, and began to twist Madeline's glorious hair into a large coil low on her neck.
"You need not hurry," Madeline said, quietly; "I shall not go downstairs till just before dinner."
"Her ladyship is dressed already," the maid answered.
"Naturally," she answered, significantly, and relapsed into silence.
A few minutes later they heard the gritting of the carriage wheels on the drive. It curved round under Madeline's window, and pulled up at the front door.
She listened for the sound of voices, but Sir Charles and his son alighted in silence. Then a little shrill cry of delight was wafted up from the hall as Lady Tregony fell into her son's arms. The next moment the harsh, raucous voice of the captain echoed distinctly through all the rooms.
Madeline felt her heart give a sudden bound. How often she had heard that voice in her dreams, and thrilled at the sound—not a musical voice, by any means, not a voice to lure and soothe, but a voice to command; a voice to inspire confidence and awaken fear at the same time.