"Not so weak as you may think, you little warrior. These hands,"

holding them up to view, "have a very strong cause, let me tell you--and you think you would like to help me?" laughing oddly.

"Wouldn't I!" with a fierce nod that made her two companions laugh again.

The afternoon was wearing away, and Madeline began to grow restless, at finding no opportunity for saying a word in private to Claire. At last fortune favored her. Olive, seeing her gardener digging about a little summer-house, which was a favorite retreat on a warm afternoon, bethought herself of a plan for adding to its comfort, by laying down certain vines, etcetera, for next season's growing. So she bade the girls note how she should have improved her arbor by another season, and hurried out to begin an argument, that from previous experience she knew would be hotly contested.

[Illustration: "You delightfully horrible girl!"--page 191.]

This was Madeline's opportunity. And as soon as Olive was out of hearing, she turned to Claire saying:

"Claire, I have not told you, nor Olive, all that I have discovered.

For reasons, which you will understand later, I have thought it best to make them known to you first. We must invent some excuse for absenting ourselves from the parlor for a while."

Claire looked grave and somewhat startled for an instant, but recovering her composure she said, simply: "I am at your disposal, dear."

"I think I had better go to my room and lie down," meaningly. "Tell Olive, when she comes in, that I feel fatigued, and have gone to my room to rest. Then you had better plead letters to write, and follow me. Can you manage it?"

"Easily," smiled Claire. "Why, Bonnie, Aileen, this becomes more and more mysterious and interesting."

"Wait before you pass judgment; now I am gone."

Madeline quitted the drawing-room and sauntered leisurely up-stairs.

When Olive reappeared, Claire carried out the little programme, as arranged, and hastened to join Madeline, musing as she went:

"What could have induced that odd darling to confide in stupid little me, while she leaves wise, thoughtful Olive in the dark?"

Madeline was pacing the floor when Claire entered the room. She motioned her to a chair, and pushed the bolt in the door, thus rendering intrusion impossible.

"What _can_ you be thinking of, Madeline, with that gloomy face?"

exclaimed Claire, nestling into an easy chair as she spoke.

"I am thinking, Claire," replied Madeline, gazing down at her sadly, "of the first time I ever saw your sister, and of the errand on which she came to me. How full of hope I was that morning! How radiant the day seemed, and how confident I was of happiness to come; as confident as you are to-day, Claire, darling."

There was something in Madeline's tone that sounded almost like pity, as she uttered these last words. Claire started and colored, but still was silent.

"Olive did a brave, generous deed, but at that time I almost hated her for it," musingly.

"Oh, no, Madeline," interposed Claire, "you don't mean just that, I am sure. You never really hated our noble, unhappy Olive."

"I felt very wicked, I assure you," smiling faintly. Then, abruptly: "How should you have felt, similarly placed?"

"I?" wonderingly; "mercy! I can't tell."

"Claire, think," in a tone almost of entreaty. "I want to know--I must know."

"You must know? Why, Madeline?"

"Because--because I want to find out what is in you; how strong you are."

Claire looked more and more mystified. "State your case, then," she said, quietly. "I will try and analyze myself."

"Good; now, Claire Keith, suppose that you love some man very much, and you trust him without knowing why, for no other reason than that you love him. When you are happiest, because you have but just parted from your lover--"

Claire started and colored a little.

"When you are thinking of the time, not far away, when you shall not part from him any more--suppose that just then I, a friend whom you have loved, come to you and say: 'This hero of yours is false; he is a two-faced villain; he has deceived you; he is not honorable; he will betray you if he can.' What would you answer me?"

Claire lifted her head proudly. "I would make you take back every word you had uttered, or prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt!"

"And if I proved it?"

"Then I would thank you; and hate myself for having been deceived, and him for having deceived me."

"Would you grieve for him, Claire?"

Quick as thought came the answer:

"Grieve for him! No; I could no more love a liar and a villain than I could caress a viper! I tell you, Madeline, I understand your feelings when you say that you hate Lucian Davlin," shuddering.

"And you would not hate me also for rudely undeceiving you?"

"Hate my best friend; my benefactor? No!"

"I am thankful!"

"But, Madeline, what does all this mean? Is this what you wanted to say to me? What can my feelings have to do with your case?"

"Claire,"--Madeline's face was very sad again--"this case is _our_ case."

"_Our_ case?"

"Yes, ours; Olive's, yours, mine. And now I am going to test your strength."

Claire did not look very strong just then.

"You saw Edward Percy to-day."

Claire Keith sprang to her feet. "How do you know that? And what has he to do with the case?"

"I know it because we, Mr. Percy and myself, came to this city by the same train, and I could easily surmise that his business here was with you."

"Well?" haughtily.

"Ah!" sadly; "you are almost angry with me now. But listen, Claire.

Are you perfectly familiar with all the facts connected with poor Philip Girard's sad disgrace?"

"I think so," coldly.