When he entered the “spare room” of the farmhouse Madge, with a smile that was like a ray of sunshine, extended her hand from the lounge on which she was reclining, and said: 

“You didn’t fail me, Graydon.  I couldn’t have kept up a moment longer.  I should have fainted before had I not heard your voice.  How good God has been!”

He held her hand in both his own, his mouth twitched nervously, but his emotion was too strong for speech.

“Don’t feel so badly, Graydon,” she resumed, and her voice was gentleness itself; “I am not hurt, nor are you to blame.”

“I am to blame,” he said, hoarsely.  “I gave you that brute, but he’s dead.  I shot him instantly.  Oh, Madge, if—­if—­I feel that I would have shot myself.”

“Graydon, please be more calm,” she faltered, tears coming into her eyes.  “There, see, you are making me cry.  I can’t bear to see you—­I can’t bear to see a man—­so moved.  Please now, you look so pale that I am frightened.  I’m not strong, but shall get better at once if I see you yourself.”

“Forgive me, Madge, but it seems as if I had suffered the pangs of death ten times over—­there, I won’t speak about it till we both have recovered from the shock.  Dear, brave little girl; how can I thank you enough for keeping up till I could reach you!”

She began to laugh a little too nervously to be natural.  Her heart was glad over her escape, and in a gladder tumult at his words and manner.  He was no shadow of a man, nor did ice-water flow in his veins.  His feeling had been so strong that it had almost broken her self-control.

“Some day,” she exulted, “some day God will turn his fraternal affection into the wine of love.”

“I’m so nervous,” she said, “that I must either laugh or cry.  What a plight we are in!  How shall we go forward or backward?”

“We shall not do either very soon.  Mrs. Hobson is making you a cup of tea, and then you must rest thoroughly, and sleep, if possible.”

“What will you do?”

“Oh, I’ll soothe my nerves with a cigar, and berate myself on the porch!  When you are thoroughly rested I’ll have Mr. Hobson drive us on to the nearest station.  We are in no plight whatever, if you received no harm.”

“I haven’t.  Promise me one thing.”

“Anything—­everything.”

“Do no berating.  I’m sorry you killed the horse; but he did act vilely, and I suppose you had to let off your anger in some way.  I was angry myself at first—­he was so stupid.  But when I found I couldn’t hold him at all I thought I must die—­Oh, how it all comes back to me!  What thoughts I had, and how sweet life became!  Oh, oh—­” and she began sobbing like a child.

“Madge, please—­I can’t endure this, indeed I can’t.”

But her overwrought nerves were not easily controlled, and he knelt beside her, speaking soothingly and pleadingly.  “Dear Madge, dear sister Madge.  Oh, I wish Mary was here!” and he kissed her again and again.