ce. She hardly glanced at Mr. Stanford--she
was afraid to trust herself too far--she was afraid to meet those
magnetic dark eyes. If he looked aback at her _sang-froid_, she did not
see it. She swept by as majestically as Kate herself, and took a distant
seat.

Kate's face showed her surprise. Rose had been a puzzle to her of late;
she was more a puzzle now than ever. Rose was standing on her dignity,
that was evident; and Rose did not often stand on that pedestal. She
would not talk, or only in monosyllables. Her replies to Mr. Stanford
were pointedly cold and brief. She sat, looking very pretty in her blue
glace and bright curls, her fingers toying idly with her chatelaine and
trinkets, and as unapproachable as a grand duchess.

Mr. Stanford made no attempt to approach her. He sat and talked to his
betrothed of the old times and the old friends and places, and seemed to
forget there was any one else in the world. Rose listened, with a heart
swelling with angry bitterness--silent, except when discreetly addressed
by Kate, and longing vindictively to spring up and tell the handsome,
treacherous Englishman what she thought of him there and then.

As luncheon hour drew near, her father, who had been absent, returned
with Sir Ronald Keith and Doctor Danton. They were all going upstairs;
but Kate, with a happy flush on her face, looked out of the drawing-room
door.

"Come in papa," she said; "come in, Sir Ronald; there is an old friend
here."

She smiled a bright invitation to the young Doctor, who went in also.
Reginald Stanford stood up. Captain Danton, with a delighted "Hallo!"
grasped both his hands.

"Reginald, my dear boy, I am delighted, more than delighted, to see you.
Welcome to Canada, Sir Ronald; this is more than we bargained for."

"I was surprised to find you here, Sir Ronald," said the young officer,
shaking the baronet's hand cordially; "very happy to meet you again."

Sir Ronald, with a dark flush on his face, bowed stiffly, in silence,
and moved away.

Doctor Frank was introduced, made his bow, and retreated to Rose's sofa.

Capricious womanhood! Rose, that morning, had decidedly snubbed him;
Rose, at noon, welcomed him with her most radiant smile. Never, perhaps,
in all his experience had any young lady listened to him with such
flattering attention, with such absorbed interest. Never had bright eyes
and rosy lips given him such glances and smiles. She hung on his words;
she had eyes and ears