It was nearly five o'clock, and the girls found most of the house guests already assembled in the library, awaiting the arrival of the tea-tray.
Several other young people were there also, most of them being those who were to be of the wedding cortege next day.
Robert Fessenden, who was to be best man, had just come from New York, and had dropped in to see Miss Van Norman.
Although he was an old friend of Carleton's, Madeleine did not know him very well, and though she made him welcome, it was with that coldly formal air that did not greatly attract the young man, but he could not fail to be impressed by her great beauty.
"Lucky fellow, Carleton," he said to Tom Willard. "Why, that woman would create a sensation in any great city in the world."
"Yes, she is too handsome to live all her life in a small village," agreed Tom. "I think they intend to travel a great deal."
"An heiress, too, I believe."
"Yes, she has all the desirable traits a woman can possess."
"All?" Fessenden's tone was quizzical.
"What do you mean?" asked Tom sharply.
"Nothing; only, if I were to marry, I should prefer a little more softness of nature."
"Oh, that's only her manner. My cousin is most sweet and womanly, I assure you."
"I'm sure she is," returned Fessenden, who was a bit ashamed of his outspokenness; "and she's getting a sterling good fellow for a husband."
"She is so," said Tom, heartily, which was kind of him, considering his own opinion of Carleton.
And then both men strolled over to where Madeleine sat at the tea-table. She was reading a telegram that had just been brought to her, and she laughingly explained to Tom that it meant a bother for him.
"Miss Morton has concluded to come to the wedding, after all," she said. "She wrote me that she wouldn't come, but she has changed her mind, it seems. Now, it does sound ridiculous, I know, but in this big house there isn't a room left for her but the one you have, Tom. You see, one bedroom is used for a 'present room,' one is reserved for Schuyler tomorrow, the bridesmaids have another, and except for our own rooms, and those already occupied by guests, there are no more. I hate to ask you, Tom, but could you go to the Inn?"
"Sure, Maddy dear; anything to oblige. But it does seem too bad to turn me out of your house the very last day that your hospitality is all your own to offer. Tomorrow the grand Seigneur will be master here, and my timid little Madeleine can no longer call her soul her own."
This reference to the tall and stately mistress of the house raised a general laugh, but Madeleine did not join in it.
"I'm so sorry, Tom," she said earnestly, as she looked again at the telegram she was holding, "but Miss Morton was an old friend of Uncle Richard's, and as she wants to come here I can't turn her away. And unless you give her your room, there is no other."
"Nonsense, Madeleine! I'm only joking. Of course I'll go to the hotel. Only too glad to accommodate Miss Morton. Forget it, girl; I assure you I don't mind a bit. I'll pack up a few traps after dinner and skip down to the picturesque, if rather ostentatious, Mapleton Inn."
As Tom spoke he put his arm carelessly round Madeleine's shoulders, and though scarcely more than a cousinly caress, it was unfortunate that Schuyler Carleton should enter the room at that moment. A lightning glance flashed between the two men, and as Tom moved away from Madeleine with a slightly embarrassed shrug of his shoulders, Carleton's face grew so stern that an uncomfortable silence fell upon the guests.
However, the arrival of the tea-tray saved the situation, and Madeleine at once busied herself in the pretty occupation of serving tea to her guests.
With an air of jealous proprietorship, Carleton moved toward her and, looking handsome, though sulky, stood by Willard with folded arms, as if on guard.
Urged on by a daredevil spirit of mischief, and perhaps remembering that Madeleine would soon be beyond his reach as Carleton's wife, Tom also moved toward her from the other side. Endeavoring to treat the situation lightly, Madeleine held up a newly-filled teacup.
"Who will have this?" she asked gaily.
"I will!" declared Carleton and Tom at the same time, and each held out a hand.
Madeleine looked at them both smilingly.
Carleton's face was white and set; he was evidently making a serious matter of the trifling episode.
Tom, on the contrary, was smiling broadly, and was quite evidently enjoying his rival's discomfiture.
"I shall give it to you, because you look so pleasant," declared Madeleine, handing the cup to Tom. "Now, Schuyler, smile prettily and you may have one, too."
But Carleton would not fall in with her light mood.
Bending a little, he said in a tense voice, "I will leave you to your cousin now. Tomorrow I shall assert my claim."
Though not rude in themselves, the words were accompanied by a harsh and disdainful glance that made several of the onlookers wonder what sort of a life the haughty Madeleine would lead with such a coldly tyrannical husband.
"The brute!" said Tom, under his breath, as Carleton left the room. "Never mind, Maddy, the old Turk has left you to me for this evening, and we'll take him at his word."
Suddenly Madeleine's mood changed to one of utter gaiety. She smiled impartially on all, she jested with the girls, she bewitched the young men with her merry banter, and she almost seemed to be flirting with Tom Willard. But he was her cousin, after all, and much is forgiven a bride-to-be on her wedding eve.
Robert Fessenden looked at Miss Van Norman with a puzzled air. He couldn't seem to understand her, and was glad when by chance the two were left comparatively alone for a few moments' conversation.
"A great responsibility devolves on the best man, Miss Van Norman," he said, in response to a chaffing remark of hers. "I suppose that tomorrow I shall be general director-in-chief, and if anything should go wrong, I shall be blamed."
"But nothing will go wrong," said Madeleine, gaily, "and then, think how you'll be praised!"
"Ah, but you won't be here to hear the praise heaped upon me, so what's the use?"
"No, I shall be gone forever," said Madeleine, putting on one of her faraway looks. "I never want to come back to Mapleton. I hate it!"
"Why, Miss Van Norman! You want to desert this beautiful old house? Schuyler can never find you a home so comfortable and attractive in every way."
"I don't care. I want to go far away from Mapleton to live. We're going to travel for a year, any way, but when we do settle down, it will be abroad, I hope."
"You surprise me. Schuyler didn't tell me this. We've been chums so long, that I usually know of his plans. But, of course, getting married changes all that."
"You're a very intimate friend of Mr. Carleton's, aren't you?" said Madeleine, with a strange note of wistfulness in her voice.
"Yes, I am. Why?"
"Oh, nothing; I only thought—I mean, do you think—"
Rob Fessenden was thrilled by the plaintive expression on the beautiful face, and suddenly felt a great desire to help this girl, who was seemingly so far above and beyond all need of help, and yet was surely about to ask his aid, or at least his sympathy.
"Don't hesitate," he said gently; "what is it, Miss Van Norman? I want to be as firm a friend of yours as I am of Schuyler's, so please say what you wish to."
"I can't—I can't," Madeleine whispered, and her voice was almost a moan.
"Please," again urged Fessenden.