" said Kate, vexed; "she has quite a new way of
acting. But you know," smiling radiantly, "a Stanford never yields."

"True. It is discouraging, but I shall try again. Good-night, dearest
and best, and pleasant dreams--of me."

He ascended to his bedroom, lamp in hand. A fire blazed in the grate;
and sitting down before it, his coat off, his slippers on, his hands in
his pockets, he gazed at it with knitted brow, and whistling softly. For
half an hour he sat, still as a statue. Then he got up, found his
writing-case, and sat down to indite a letter. He was singing the
fag-end of something as he dipped his pen in the ink.

"Bind the sea to slumber stilly--
Bind its odour to the lily--
Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver--
Then bind love to last forever!"

* * * * *

"Danton Hall, February 26, 18--

"My Dear Lauderdale: I think I promised, when I left
Windsor, to write to tell you how I got on in this horribly Arctic
region. It is nearly two months since I left Windsor, and my
conscience (don't laugh--I have discovered that I have a
conscience) gives me sundry twinges when I think of you. I don't
feel like sleeping to-night. I am full of my subject, so here goes.

"In the first place, Miss Danton is well, and as much of in angel
as ever. In the second place, Danton Hall is delightful, and holds
more angels than one. In the third place, Ronald Keith is here, and
half mad with jealousy. The keenest north wind that has ever blown
since I came to Canada is not half so freezing as he. Alas, poor
Yorick! He is a fine fellow, too, and fought like a lion in the
Russian trenches; but there was Sampson, and David, and Solomon,
and Marc Antony--you know what love did to them one and all.

"Kate refused him a year ago, in England--I found it out by
accident, not from her, of course; and yet here he is. It is the
old story of the moth and the candle, and sometimes I laugh, and
sometimes I am sorry for him. He has eight thousand a year, too;
and the Keiths are great people in Scotland, I hear. Didn't I
always try to impress it on you that it was better to be born
handsome than rich? I am not worth fifteen hundred shillings a
year, and in June (D. V.) beautiful Kate Danton is to be my wife.
Recant your heresy, and believe for the future.

"Angel, No. 2.--I told