"Who is it ?" he asked, in a startled voice.

"Is it you, Mrs.Lane ?" Madelon aroused herself.

"I want to see Mr.Otis's son a minute if I can," she said, with a great effort.

Then she raised her piteous eyes to the face before her, and realized dimly that it was the face of the young man who had taken her place at the ball, and sent her homeward to work all this misery on that dreadful night.
"I am Mr.Otis's son," returned the young man, wonderingly.
"What"-- then he gave a cry--"why, it is you!" "I want--to--see you--a minute," said Madelon, and her voice sounded far away in her own ears.
The young man started.

"Why, you're half frozen," he cried out, "and here I am keeping you standing out here! Come in." Madelon shrank back.