“If there were cause I would, Mary, but you are happy in your home, and I am not greatly needed.  In my Western home I feel I can get the most out of life, just as you are getting the most out of yours.  I should suffer from my old troubles in New York.”  This statement was true enough to both ladies, although a very prosaic impression was conveyed to Mrs. Muir’s mind.

To Madge, Graydon’s absence contained a strong element of hope.  He would not have gone away if all had been settled between him and Miss Wildmere, and, as Mary had said, there appeared stronger evidence of uncertainty now than at first.  Graydon had seen Miss Wildmere, and she evidently had not finally dismissed Arnault.

Madge indulged in no idle brooding, however, and by activity every hour in the day, passed the time bravely.  One of her boy admirers had a horse, and became her escort on long excursions; and with Mrs. Muir she went to see Tilly Wendall again on Friday morning.  The poor girl was very weak indeed, and could do little more than smile her welcome.  Madge promised to spend Sunday night with her.  She would have come before, but Graydon had told her that he might return Friday evening, and as a storm was threatening she thought it probable that he would hasten back to avoid it.  She believed that there was still hope for her, and determined that she should never have cause in the future to reproach herself with lost opportunities.  There was no imperative call of duty to her sick friend, for Mrs. Wendall said that two or three neighbors had lately offered their services.

Mrs. Muir was gladdened on her return to the hotel by a telegram from her husband, saying that he would arrive on the late train and spend Saturday with her.  She and Madge sat down to dinner in a cheerful mood, which evidently was not shared by Miss Wildmere.

That brilliant young woman, although she made herself the centre of all things as far as possible, was a victim of poverty when thrown upon her own resources.  Madge detected her in suppressed yawns, and had noted that she had apparently done little else than read novels since parting with the two men who were metaphorically at her feet.  Since the telegram she had not received a word from her father or any one, and was inwardly chafing at the dead calm that had followed her exciting experiences.  She did not misinterpret the deceptive peace, however, and knew that on the morrow she must decide what even she regarded as the most momentous question of life.  Persons under the dominion of pure selfishness escape many perplexities, however, and she was prone to take short cuts to desired ends.  Ready to practice deceit herself, she became more strongly impressed that her father and Arnault were misleading her.  Therefore she impatiently awaited the former’s appearance, that she might tax him with duplicity.  Unless he had something stronger than vague surmises to offer, she intended on the morrow to promise Graydon Muir to be his wife.