toward the staircase, but in her confusion she missed it, and before I
could reach her, she struck against the great newel post.

"God pity me," she said, as I took her hand. "I wish I were dead. Please
lead me to the staircase, Cousin Malcolm. Thank you."

She was weeping gently when she started up the steps, and I knew that she
was going to fetch me her little treasure of gold.

Madge held up the skirt of her gown with one hand while she grasped the
banister with the other. She was halfway up when Dorothy, whose generous
impulses needed only to be prompted, ran nimbly and was about to pass her
on the staircase when Madge grasped her gown.

"Please don't, Dorothy. Please do not. I beg you, do not forestall me. Let
me do this. Let me. You have all else to make you happy. Don't take this
from me only because you can see and can walk faster than I."

Dorothy did not stop, but hurried past her. Madge sank upon the steps and
covered her face with her hands. Then she came gropingly back to me just
as Dorothy returned.

"Take these, Cousin Malcolm," cried Dorothy. "Here are a few stones of
great value. They belonged to my mother."

Madge was sitting dejectedly upon the lowest step of the staircase.
Dorothy held her jewel-box toward me, and in the midst of the diamonds and
gold I saw the heart John Manners had given her. I did not take the box.

"Do you offer me this, too--even this?" I said, lifting the heart from the