gentleman—who would have called himself “a man of the world” & thought he knew woman-kind pretty well, from the actress to the Duchess—had never seen before the phenomenon of an unsophisticated English beauty among the better classes. “I think that ladies’ hands were made for gathering flowers,” he observed. “It is the prettiest work they can do.” Madeline blushed; “It is the pleasantest work, I think,” she said, in her clear, shy tones, bending her tall head over her field-blossoms. Guy thought of “The Gardener’s Daughter,” & wondered whether her golden hair was as pale & soft as Madeline Graham’s. “But you can paint them,” the girl added. “How I envy you!” “If you are so fond of flowers, you should learn to paint them yourself, Miss Graham,” said Guy. “Ah—if I could. I don’t think I have any talent.” “You must let me find that out,” he returned, smiling. “I should like to teach you.” Madeline blushed again; indeed, every passing emotion made her colour change & waver exquisitely. Guy liked to watch the wildrose flush deepen & fade on the pure cheek beside him; it was a study in itself to make an artist happy. “You know,” he went on, “all talents are not developped at once, but lie dormant until some magic touch awakens them. Your love for flowers may help you to find out that you are an artist.” “I am very fond of pictures,” said Madeline, simply. “I love the Madonna heads with their soft, sweet eyes & blue hoods. But then, you know, I am no judge of art—Papa is.” At another time, Guy would have smiled at this daughterly illusion; now it only struck him as a very rare & pretty thing. “One does not need to be a judge of art to love it,” he said. “The discrimination comes later; but the love is inborn.” She lifted her wide blue eyes shyly to his face. “I suppose you have both,” she said, gravely. “Very little of either, I am afraid,” said Guy, smiling. “I am little more than an amateur, you know.” Just then, Mr. Graham, who had gone forward with his wife, called Madeline. “Come, come, my dear. It is getting damp & we must be off to our hotel. Our paths divide, here, eh? Mr. Hastings. Come & see us.” “Goodbye,” said Madeline, with a smile. “Goodbye,” he answered; “shall you be at home tomorrow afternoon?” “Yes. I believe so. Shall we not, Mamma?” “What, my dear? Yes,” nodded Mrs. Graham. “Do come, Mr. Hastings. It’s a little dull for Madeline here.” And they parted, Guy lifting his hat, & lingering a moment to watch them on their way. “A very nice young fellow, eh?” said Mr. Graham, as Madeline slipped her hand through his arm. “Excellent family. Excellent family.” “And so polite,” cried Mrs. Graham. “I declare he talked beautifully.” “I think he is very handsome,” said Madeline, softly. “And how clever he is, Papa.” “Clever, eh? Yes—yes; a rising young fellow. And very good family.” “But it’s a wonder to me he took any notice of you, Maddy,” observed Mrs. Graham. “Those handsome young men in the best society don’t care for anything under an Earl’s wife.” “But he is a gentleman, Mamma!” said Madeline with a blush. The next afternoon, a servant was sent up to Mr. Graham’s apartments at the Hôtel Belvidere with a card; which a maid carried into an inner room, where the following dialogue went on while the Hôtel servant waited. “Mr. Hastings, Mamma—what shall I do?” “See him, love. I am not suffering much.” “Oh, Mamma, I can’t leave you alone!” “With Priggett, my dear? Of course. Perhaps he might know of a physician.” “Of course, Mamma! I will see him. Ask the man to shew Mr. Hastings up.” And when Guy was ushered into the stiffly-furnished sitting room a pale young lady with her crown of golden hair somewhat disturbed & her white dress rumpled, came forward to meet him. “Oh, Mr. Hastings …” “Has anything happened, Miss Graham?” The tears were hanging on Madeline’s lashes & her quiet manner was changed for a trembling agitation. “Mamma has sprained her ankle,” she said, “& Papa is away. He went to the Lauterbrunnen this morning, & an hour ago Mamma slipped on the staircase—” she ended rather abruptly by pressing her handkerchief to her eyes. “My dear Miss Graham, how unfortunate! Have you sent for a physician? Can I do anything for you?” “Oh, thanks,” said Madeline, “we have got the maid & I have bound her ankle up, but we didn’t know where to find a physician.” “How lucky that I came!” Guy exclaimed. “I believe there is no good native doctor, but Sir Ashley Patchem is at my Hôtel & I will go back at once.” “Oh, thank you, thank you!” Madeline could scarcely control her tears, as she held her hand out. “May I come back & see if I can help you in any other way?” Guy said, as he took it; & then he was gone, at a quick pace. Half an hour later, the famous London physician was in Mrs. Graham’s room at the Hôtel Belvidere. “A very slight sprain, I assure you,” he said, as Madeline followed him anxiously into the sitting-room. “Don’t disturb yourself. Only have this sent for at once.” He put a prescription in her hand, & as he left the room Guy came in again. “I am so much relieved,” said Madeline, “& I don’t know how to thank you.” “What does Sir Ashley say?” “It is very slight, not at all dangerous. I am so thankful! But this prescription … I suppose one of the servants …” “Let me take it,” said Guy. Then, glancing at his watch; “Mr. Graham ought to be here shortly, but you will send for me in case of need, Miss Graham? Are you sure that I can do nothing else?” “You have done so much,” Madeline answered, with a smile. “No, I think everything is arranged, & as you say Papa will be here soon.” “I will not delay the prescription, then. Goodbye, Miss Graham!” “Goodbye.” She held out her hand again, as to a friend, & again he took it & pressed it for an instant. As he walked homeward in the soft Summer dusk, he had the pleasant feeling of a man who knows that he has gained the admiration & gratitude of a pretty, interesting girl by an easy service just at the right time. No man wins his way so easily as he who has the good luck to prove himself “a friend in need”; & Guy felt that in one day he had come nearer to Madeline Graham than months of casual acquaintance could have brought him.
—————
X.
At Interlaken.
“Through those days
Youth, love & hope walked smiling hand in hand.”
Old Play.
It is certain that in this world the smallest wires work the largest machinery in a wonderful way. The twist that Mrs. Graham’s foot took on the Hôtel staircase, led gradually up a ladder of greater events to a most unexpected climax, & influenced her daughter’s life as the most carefully laid plans could perhaps not have done. Strangely & wonderfully, “Dieu dispose.” The Grahams had not intended to remain over a week at Interlaken, & had all their Summer plans arranged after the approved tourist fashion. These plans Mrs. Graham’s sprained ankle of course overset. Slight at the accident was, it tied her to her couch for five weeks at the least; & all that could be done was to accept the circumstances & engage the best rooms which the Hôtel Belvidere could offer, for that length of time. Mr. Graham was thoroughly disgusted. “To be mewed up in this hole,” he complained to Hastings, “with nothing to do but look at the mountains out of one’s bedroom windows. In fact, though the continent is very pleasant for a change & very nice to travel in, England’s the place to be quiet in!” “Yes, I agree with you,” said Guy; “but I hope this unfortunate accident won’t frighten you off to England?” Mr. Graham shook his head despondently! “I wish it could, my dear Hastings, I wish it could. But, you see, our Madeline is too delicate for the rough English weather, & as we’ve got to choose between Nice & Rome of course we’ll go to Rome again.” As for Madeline, she accepted the change with youthful adaptability, invented fancy-work for her mother, collected flowers, played on the rattling Hôtel piano which had been moved into her sitting-room, & took long walks with her father & Mr. Hastings. These walks, indeed, were the pleasantest part of her quiet, contented days; Mr. Hastings talked so well & got her such pretty wild-flowers, she said simply to her mother. And Mrs. Graham sighed. Madeline was a good, dutiful girl, & full of worship for her father; but perhaps she was not sorry when, on the morning which had been chosen for a long pilgrimage, Mr. Graham got some business letters which required immediate answers, & announced at the breakfast table that he could not go. “Oh, what a pity, John,” said Mrs. Graham, from the sofa. “It is such a beautiful day, & Maddy has been counting on this walk.” Madeline looked studiously at her plate, but
