When parting from her hostess Madge spoke words which left a genial expression on the good dame’s face for hours thereafter, and at the station Graydon put in Mr. Hobson’s hand more than he could have gathered from his stony farm that day, although he had been called from the harvest field.

During the first mile or two in the cars Madge was very quiet, and seemed almost wholly engrossed with the scenery.  At last Graydon leaned toward her and asked, “Are you vexed with me, Madge?”

“I find that I must maintain my self-control when with you, Graydon,” was the grave reply.

“Forgive me, Madge.  I scarcely knew what I was doing.  Let your thoughts take my part a little.  Remember that within the hour I had believed I had lost you.  I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, but when you passed under the train you appeared from where I was to dash into it, and I nearly fainted and fell off my horse.  Think what a horrible shock I had.  I also was nervous and all broken up—­the first time in my life that I remember being so.  I couldn’t cry as you did, and when off my balance kissing you was just as natural to me as—­” Madge’s mouth had been twitching, and now, in spite of herself, her laugh broke forth.

“Please forgive me, Madge;” and he held out his hand.

“On condition that you will never do so again, or speak of it again.”

“Never?” he repeated, ruefully.

“Never!” she said, with severe emphasis.

“I won’t make any such promise,” he replied, stubbornly.

“Oh, very well!” and she turned to the window.

“Confound it!” he thought; “I’m not going to tie myself up by any such pledge.  I’m not sure of myself, or sure of anything, except that I’m a free man, and that Madge won’t be my sister.  I shall remain free.  She herself once said in effect that I could take a straight course when once I got my bearings, and I shall permit no more promises or trammels till I do get them.”

They passed speedily on to the end of their journey, and were the perfection of quiet, well-bred travellers, he disguising a slightly vexatious constraint and sense of unduly severe punishment, and she secretly exulting over the fact that he would not make the promise.

When leaving the Kaaterskill station her eyes first rested on the adjacent lake, and its wide extent suggested the opportunity to pull an oar to some purpose.  As the stage surmounted the last approach to the hotel, and the valley of the Hudson, with the river winding through it like a silver band, broke upon her vision, the apparent cloud passed from her brow, and her pleasure was unaffected.  A few inquiries and the study of a map of the vicinity made it evident that the region abounded in superb walks and drives, while from the front piazza there was a panorama that would never lose its changing interest and beauty.  A suite of rooms was selected, with the understanding that they should be occupied on Wednesday.