Nothing could have been more auspicious than his coming to-night—­the very first evening after his arrival.  It assured her of the place she still held in his thoughts; it gave her the chance to renew, in the glad hours of his return, the impression she had made; and she saw in his admiring eyes how favorable that impression was.  She exulted that he found her so well prepared.  Her clinging summer costume revealed not a little of her beauty, and suggested more, while she permitted her eyes to give a welcome more cordial even than her words.

He talked easily and vivaciously, complimented her openly, yet with sincerity, and rallied her on the wonder of wonders that she was still Miss Wildmere.

“Not so great a marvel as that you return a bachelor.  Why did you not marry a German princess or some reduced English countess?”

“I was not driven to that necessity, since there were American queens at home.  I am delighted that you are still in town.  What are your plans for the summer?”

“We have not fully decided as yet.”

“Then go to the Catskills.  Our ladies are there at the Under-Cliff House, and I am told that it is a charming place.”

“I will speak to mamma of it.  She must come to some decision soon.  Papa says that he will be too busy to go out of town much.”

“Why, then, the Catskills is just the place—­accessible to the city, you know.  That is the reason we have chosen it.  I propose to take something of a vacation, but find that I must go back and forth a good deal, and so shall escape the bore of a long journey.”

“You have given two good reasons for our going there.  The place cannot be stupid, since we may see you occasionally, and papa could come oftener.”

“Persuade Mrs. Wildmere into the plan by all means, and promise me your first waltz after your arrival;” and there was eagerness in his tone.

“Will you also promise me your first?”

“Yes, and last also, if you wish.”

“Oh, no!  I do not propose to be selfish; Miss Alden will have her claims.”

“What, Sister Madge?  She must have changed greatly if she will dance at all.  She is an invalid, you know.”

“I hear she has returned vastly improved in health—­indeed, that she is quite a beauty.”

“I hope so,” he said, cordially, “but fear that rumor has exaggerated.  My brother said she was better, and added but little more.  Have you seen her?”

“No.  I only heard, a short time since, that she had returned.”

Madge had not gone into society, and had she met Miss Wildmere face to face she would not have been recognized, so greatly was she changed from the pallid, troubled girl over whom the beauty had enjoyed her petty triumph; but the report of Miss Alden’s attractions had aroused in Miss Wildmere’s mind apprehensions of a possible rival.

Graydon’s manner was completely reassuring.  Whatever Miss Alden might have become, she evidently had no place in his thoughts beyond that natural to their relations.  No closer ties had been formed by correspondence during his long absence.