rewards and of penalties alike undeserved by our present selves. But,
while we bear them with such equanimity as we may, let us remember that
as it is only fools who flatter themselves on their past virtues, so it
is only a sadder sort of fools who plague themselves for their past
faults."

Henry's quick ear caught a rustle in the retiring-room. He stepped to the
door and looked in. Madeline was sitting up.




CHAPTER XII.


Her attitude was peculiar. Her feet were on the floor, her left hand
rested on the sofa by her side, her right was raised to one temple and
checked in the very act of pushing back a heavy braid of hair which had
been disarranged in sleep. Her eyebrows were slightly contracted, and she
was staring at the carpet. So concentrated did her faculties appear to be
in the effort of reflection that she did not notice Henry's entrance
until, standing by her aide, he asked, in a voice which he vainly tried
to steady--

"How do you feel ?"

She did not look up at him at all, but replied, in the dreamy, drawling
tone of one in a brown study--

"I--feel--well. I'm--ever--so--rested."