I will fetch you a shawl, and then, if
you like, we can go out."
He strode off quickly. There was vexation and perplexity in
his kind heart too. He understood well enough how the girl had
been wounded--his little Madelon, for whom it would have seemed
a small thing to give his right hand, could such a sacrifice
have availed her aught. And he could do nothing. His
compassion insulted her, his interference she would have
resented; no, he could do nothing to protect his little girl.
So he thought as he made his way into the cloak-room to
extract a shawl. He was going his way in the world, and she
hers, and she might be suffering, lonely, unprotected, for
aught that he could do, unless--unless----
"Those cloaks belong to Lady Adelaide's party," cried the
maid, as Graham recklessly seized hold of one in a bundle.
"You must not take those, sir; Lady Adelaide will be going
immediately."
"Confound the cloaks, and Lady Adelaide too!" cried Graham,
impatiently. "Here, give me something--anything. Where is Miss
Linders' shawl? Which are Mrs. Vavasour's things?"
Madelon had stood still for a moment after Horace had left
her, and then, as he did not immediately return, she left her
station behind the window-curtain, and began walking up and
down the room.
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