through somehow," said Louis. "Maybe he'll ride over to Farnham
Hollow and get Luke Corliss to fiddle." Louis sat discontentedly by
the fire, with his arm soaking in cider-brandy and wormwood.

"Farnham Hollow is ten miles away," said Richard.

"His horse is fast; he'd get him here by eight o'clock," returned
Louis.

Madelon was radiant. In spite of herself, she was full of hope in
going to the ball. She knew Dorothy Fair would not be present, since
her father was the orthodox parson, and she had seen her own face in
her glass. With her rival away, what could not a face like that do
with a heart that leaned towards it of its own nature? Madelon dimly
felt that Burr Gordon had to resist himself as well as her in this
matter. She had tended a monthly rose in the south window all winter,
and she wore two red roses in her black braids. Her cheeks and her
lips were fuller of warm red life than the roses. She lowered her
black eyes before her father and her brothers, for there was a light
in them which she could not subdue, which belonged to Burr Gordon
only. No costly finery had Madelon Hautville, but she had done some
cunning needle-work on an old black-satin gown of her mother's, and
it was fitted as softly over her sweet curves as a leaf over a bud. A
long garland of flowers after her own design had she wrought in
bright-colored silks around the petticoat, and there were knots of
red ribbon to fasten the loopings here and there. And she wore
another red rose in her lace tucker against her soft brown bosom.
Madelon wore, too, trim black-silk stockings with red clocks over her
slender ankles, and little black-satin shoes with steel buckles and
red rosettes. Every one of her brothers, except the youngest,