ew nearer.
The man's, shrouded by coat-collar and peaked cap, was all hidden, save
a well-shaped nose.

"It is Kate," repeated Mr. Stanford, blankly. "And what does it mean?"

"Hush-sh!" whispered Rose; "they will hear you."

She drew him back softly. The two advancing figures were so very near
now that their words could be heard. It was Kate's soft voice that was
speaking.

"Patience, dear," she was saying; "patience a little longer yet."

"Patience!" cried the man, passionately. "Haven't I been patient?
Haven't I waited and waited, eating my heart out in solitude, and
loneliness, and misery? But for your love, Kate, your undying love and
faith in me--I should long ago have gone mad!"

They passed out of hearing with the last words. Reginald Stanford stood
petrified; even Rose was desperately startled by the desperate words.

"Take me away, Reginald," she said trembling. "Oh, let us go before they
come back."

Her voice aroused him, and he looked down at her with a face as white as
the frozen snow.

"You heard him?" he said. "You heard her? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. I am frightened. Oh, let us go!"

Too late! Kate and her companion had reached the end of the tamarack
walk, and were returning. As they drew near, she was speaking; again the
two listeners in the darkness heard her words.

"Don't despair," she said earnestly. "Oh, my darling, never despair!
Come what will, I shall always love you--always trust you--always--"

They passed out of hearing again--out of the dark into the lighted end
of the walk, and did not return.

Reginald and Rose waited for a quarter of an hour, but they had
disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared.

"Take me in," reiterated Rose, shivering. "I am nearly frozen."

He turned with her up the walk, never speaking a word, very pale in the
light of the stars. No one was visible as they left the walk; all around
the house and grounds was hushed and still. The house door was locked,
but not bolted. Mr. Stanford opened it with a night-key, and they
entered, and went upstairs, still in silence. Rose reached her room
first, and paused with her hand on the handle of the door.

"Good-night," she said shyly and wistfully.

"Good-night," he answered, briefly, and was gone.

CHAPTER XI.

ONE MYSTERY CLEARED UP.

The fire burned low in Rose's pretty room, and the lamp was dim on the
table. The window-curtains were closed, and the sheets of the little
low, w