Madaline's eyes ached with the dazzle of silver plate, the ornaments and magnificence of the room.
"Shall I ever grow accustomed to all this ?" she asked herself.

"Shall I ever learn to look upon it as my own?
I am indeed bewildered." Yet her husband admired her perfect grace and self-possession.

She might have been mistress of Beechgrove all her life for any evidence she gave to the contrary.

His pride in her increased every moment; there was no one like her.
"I have never really known what 'home' meant before, Madaline," he said.
"Imagine sitting opposite to a beautiful vision, knowing all the time that it is your wife.

My own wife--there is magic in the words." And she, in her sweet humility, wondered why Heaven had so richly blessed her, and what she had done that the great, passionate love of this noble man should be hers.