Graham had heard nothing of this little altercation, but now coming out of the bed-room to speak to Madame Lavaux, he found a most determined little Madelon standing with her hands clasped behind her, and her back set firmly against the wall, absolutely refusing to retreat.

She sprang forward, however, as soon as she saw him.

“I may go to papa now, may I not?” she cried.

“Mademoiselle wants to go to her papa,” says Madame, at the same moment, “I beg of you, Monsieur, to tell her it is impossible, and that she had better come with me.  She asserts that her father will want her.”

“That is all nonsense,” said Graham hastily; “of course she cannot come in now,” then noticing Madelon’s poor little face, alternately white, and flushed with misery and passion, he said, “Listen to me, Madelon; you can do your father no good now.  He would not know you, my poor child, and you would only be in the way.  But I promise you that by-and-by you shall see him.”

“By-and-by,” said Madelon; “how soon?”

“As soon as we can possibly manage it.”

Nothing, perhaps, would have induced Madelon at that moment to have given into Madame Lavaux’ unsupported persuasions, but she yielded at once to Horace; indeed her sudden passion had already died away at the sight of his face, at the sound of the kind voice which she had somehow begun to associate with a sense of help and protection.  She did not quite give up her point even now, however.

“I need not go upstairs,” she said, with trembling lips and tears in her eyes.  “I may go into my own room, may I not?”

“Your room?  Which is that?” asked Graham.

“This one—­next to papa,” she said, pointing to the door that led into the passage.

“Yes, you can stay there if you like; but don’t you think you would be better with Madame Lavaux, than all by yourself in there?”

“No, I would rather stay here,” she answered, and then pausing a moment at the door, “I may come and see him presently?” she added wistfully, “I always nursed him when he was ill before.”

“I am sure you are a very good little nurse,” said Graham kindly, “and I will tell you when you may come; but it will not be just yet.  So the best thing you can do will be to go to bed, and then you will be quite ready for to-morrow.”

He had no time to say more, for his services were required.  He gave Madelon a candle, closed the door that communicated between the two rooms, and she was left alone.

CHAPTER II.

A Farewell Letter.

Madelon was left alone to feel giddy, helpless, bewildered in the reaction from strong excitement and passion.  She was quite tired and worn-out, too, with her long watching and waiting; too weary to cry even, or to think over all that had happened.