The window was open here to the cool, grey sky, the
moonlight shining in on the white curtains, the little white
bed at the further end.
"Is that you, Cousin Madelon?" says Madge, raising a brown,
shaggy head as Madelon softly opened the door. "Won't you come
in, please? I am not asleep."
Madelon came in, and went to the window. It looked down upon
the lawn, with the still tree-shadows lying across it, and
some other shadows that were not still--those of two people
walking up and down, talking earnestly. She could distinguish
Monsieur Horace's voice, and then Maria's in answer, and then
Monsieur Horace again, and a sudden pang seemed to seize the
poor child's heart, and hold it tight in its grasp. How happy
they were, those two, talking together down there, whilst she
was all alone up her, looking on!
"Do come here, Cousin Madelon," said Madge's impatient voice
from the bed. "I want you to tuck me up, and give me a kiss."
Madelon went up to the bed, and kneeling down by it, laid her
cheek wearily by Madge's on the pillow. The child passed her
arm round her neck, and hugged her tight, and the innocent,
loving caress soothed the girl's sore heart, for the moment,
more than anything else could have done.
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