When dinner was ended he asked her if she was tired.
"No," she answered, laughingly; "I have never felt less fatigued." "Then I should like to show you over the house," he said--"my dear old home.

I am so proud of it, Madaline; you understand what I mean--proud of its beauty; its antiquity--proud that no shadow of disgrace has ever rested on it.

To others these are simply ancient gray walls; to me they represent the honor, the stainless repute, the unshadowed dignity of my race.

People may sneer if they will, but to me there seems nothing so sacred as love of race--jealousy of a stainless name." "I can understand and sympathize with you," she said, "although the feeling is strange to me." "Not quite strange, Madaline.

Your mother had a name, dear, entitled to all respect.