ed the second Miss Danton, as soon as surprise
would let her speak, "what on earth is the matter with you? What are you
crying about? What has Doctor Danton done to you?"

"Nothing! nothing!" cried the worried little seamstress. "Oh, nothing!
It is not that! I am very foolish and weak; but oh, please don't mind
me, and don't ask me about it. I can't help it, and I am very, very
unhappy."

"Well," said Rose, after a blank pause; "stop crying. I didn't know you
would take it so seriously, or I shouldn't have asked you. Here's the
dress, and I want you to take a great deal of pains with it, Agnes. Take
my measure."

Rose said no more to the seamstress on a subject so evidently
distressing; but that evening she took Doctor Frank himself to task. She
was at the piano, which Kate had vacated for a game of chess with Mr.
Stanford, and Grace's brother was devotedly turning her music. Rose
looked up at him abruptly, her fingers still rattling off a lively
mazurka.

"Doctor Danton, what have you been doing to Agnes Darling?"

"I! Doing! I don't understand!"

"Of course you don't. Where was it you knew her?"

"Who says I knew her?"

"I do. There, no fibs; they won't convince me, and you will only be
committing sin for nothing. Was it in Montreal?"

"Really, Miss Rose--"

"That will do. She won't tell, she only cries. You won't tell; you only
equivocate. I don't care. I'll find out sooner or later."

"Was she crying?"

"I should think so. People like to make mysteries in this house, in my
opinion. Where there is secrecy there is something wrong. This morning
was not the first time you ever talked to Agnes Darling."

"Perhaps not," replied Doctor Danton, with a very grave face; "but, poor
child! what right have I to make known the trials she has undergone? She
has been very unfortunate, and I once had the opportunity to befriend
her. That is all I know of her, or am at liberty to tell."

There was that in Doctor Frank's face that, despite Rose's assurance,
forbade her asking any more questions.

"But I shall never rest till I find out," thought the young lady. "I've
got at Mr. Richards' and I'll get at yours as sure as my name is Rose."

The intervening days before the ball, Rose was too much absorbed in her
preparations, and anticipations of conquest, to give her mind much to
Agnes Darling and her secrets. That great and hidden trouble of her
life--her unfortunate love affair, was worrying her too. Mr. Stanford,