Perhaps we ought to become reconciled to the fact that she will have to live there always, since here, with our sudden changes, she could scarcely live at all." With the kindliest intentions Graydon had sought to initiate a vigorous correspondence.

He had learned with immense relief of Madge's improvement through change of residence, and he felt that a series of jolly letters might bring aid and hopefulness.

Her responses were not very encouraging, however, and business cares, with the novelty of foreign life, gradually absorbed his thoughts and time until correspondence languished and died.
"It's the old story," he thought, with a shade of irritation.

"Letters cost effort, and she is not equal to effort, or thinks she is not." If he could have seen Madge at that moment riding like the wind on a spirited horse he would have been more astonished than by any of the wonders of the old world.
To Madge his letters were a source of mingled pain and pleasure, but the former predominated.

In every line they breathed an affection which could never satisfy.