and waited for the rest of the family to appear.

Eeny was the next to enter, then came Sir Ronald Keith, who took a chair
opposite Captain Danton, and buried himself in another paper. To him, in
Kate's absence, the room was empty.

The breakfast bell was ringing when that young lady appeared, beautiful
and bright as the sunny morning, in flowing white cashmere, belted with
blue, and her lovely golden hair twisted in a coronet of amber braids
round her head. She came over to where Rose sat, sulky and silent, and
kissed her.

"_Bon jour, ma soeur!_ How do you feel after last night!"

"Very well," said Rose, not looking at her.

"Reginald came home with you?" smiled Kate, toying with Rose's pretty
curls.

"Yes," she said, uneasily.

"I am glad. I am so glad that you and he are friends at last."

Rose fidgeted more uneasily still, and said nothing.

"Why was it you didn't like him?" said Kate, coaxingly. "Tell me, my
dear."

"I don't know. I liked him well enough," replied Rose, ungraciously. "He
was a stranger to me."

"My darling, he will be your brother."

Rose fixed her eyes sullenly on her book.

"You will come to England with us, won't you, Rose--dear old
England--and my pretty sister may be my lady yet?"

The door opened again. Mr. Stanford came in.

Rose glanced up shyly.

His face was unusually grave and pale; but all were taking their places,
and in the bustle no one noticed it. He did not look at Kate, who saw,
with love's quickness, that something was wrong.

All through breakfast Mr. Stanford was very silent, for him. When he did
talk, it was to Captain Danton--seldom to any of the ladies.

Grace watched him, wonderingly; Rose watched him furtively, and Kate's
morning appetite was effectually taken away.

The meal ended, the family dispersed.

The Captain went to his study, Sir Ronald mounted and rode off, Grace
went away to attend to her housekeeping affairs, Eeny to her studies,
and Rose hurried up to her room.

The lovers were left alone. Kate took her embroidery. Mr. Stanford was
immersed in the paper Captain Danton had lately laid down. There was a
prolonged silence, during which the lady worked, and the gentleman read,
as if their lives depended on it.

She lifted her eyes from her embroidery to glance his way, and found him
looking at her steadfastly--gravely.

"What is it, Reginald?" she exclaimed, impatiently. "What is the matter
with you this morning?"

"I am wonderin