True to her old tactics, however, she had spent no time in idle dreaming.  She had cultivated Dr. Sommers’s acquaintance, and he had already accompanied her and her sister through a wild valley, on the occasion of a visit to one of his patients.  Little Jack had improved under his care, and Mrs. Muir was growing serene, rested, and eager for Saturday.  Madge shared her impatience, and yet dreaded the hour during which she felt that a glimpse of the future would be revealed.  She had driven out daily with her sister, and familiarized herself with the topography of the region.  Having formed the acquaintance of some pleasant and comparatively active people in the house, she had joined such walking expeditions as they would venture upon.  In rowing the children upon a small lake she also disposed of some of her superabundant vitality and the nervous excitement which anticipation could not fail to produce.  In the evening there was more or less dancing, and her hand was eagerly sought by such of the young men as could obtain the right to ask it.  Mrs. Muir’s remark that she would become a belle in spite of herself proved true; but while she affected no exclusive or distant airs, the most callow and forward youth felt at once the restraint of her fine reserve.  Her sensitive nature enabled her, in a place of public resort, to know instinctively whom to keep at a distance, and who, like Dr. Sommers, not only invited but justified a frank and friendly manner.

As the time for the gentlemen to arrive approached, Mrs. Muir showed more restless interest than Madge.  The one anticipated a bit of amusement over Graydon’s surprise; the other looked forward to meeting her fate.  Mrs. Muir was garrulous; Madge was comparatively silent, and maintained the semblance of interest in a book so naturally that her sister exclaimed, “I expect you will die with a book in your hand!  I could no more read now than preach a sermon.  Come, it’s time to make your toilet.  Let me help you, and I want you to get yourself up ‘perfectly regardless.’  You must outshine them all at the hop this evening.”

“Nonsense, Mary!  They won’t be here for an hour and a half.  I’m going to lie down;” and she went to her room.  When her sister sought admittance half an hour later the door was locked and all was quiet.  At last, in her impatience, she knocked and cried, “Wake up.  They will be here soon.”

“I’m not asleep, and it will not take me long to dress.”

“Well, you are the coolest young woman I ever knew,” Mrs. Muir called out, finding that admittance was denied her.

Madge had determined to spend the final hour of her long separation alone.  Her nature had become too deep and strong to seek trivial diversion from the suspense that weighed upon her spirit.  As she thought of the possibility of failure, and its results, her courage faltered a little, and a few tears would come.  At last, with a glance heavenward which proved that there was nothing in her heart to keep her from looking thither for sanction, she left her room, serene and resolute.  She had taken her woman’s destiny into her own hand, to mold it in her own way, but in no arrogant and unbelieving spirit.