pretty Rose's witcheries fell short
of the mark; the stately loveliness of Kate eclipsed her, as the sun
eclipses stars. When at last he could, without discourtesy, get away, he
arose, bowed to the young lady, and, crossing the long, drawing-room,
took his stand by the piano, where Kate still sat and sung. Stanford was
leaning against the instrument, but he resigned his place to the
viscount, and an instant later was beside Rose.

"Exchange is no robbery," he said. "Is it any harm to ask how you have
succeeded?"

Rose looked up angrily into the laughing dark eyes.

"I don't know what you mean."

"My dear little artless Rose! Shall I put it plainer? When are you to be
Lady Ellerton?"

"Mr. Stanford--"

"My dear Rose, don't be cross. He is too old and too ugly--low be it
spoken--for the prettiest girl in Canada!"

"Meaning me?"

"Meaning you."

"Why don't you except Kate?"

"Because I think you are prettier than Kate?"

"You don't! I know better! I don't believe you!"

"Disbelieve me, then."

"You think there is no one in the world like Kate."

"Do I? Who told you?"

"I don't need to be told; actions speak louder than words."

"And what have my actions said?"

"That you adore the ground she walks on, and hold her a little lower
than the angels."

"So I do. That is, I don't precisely adore the ground she walks on--I am
not quite so far gone as that yet--but I hold her a little lower than
the angels, certainly."

"That's enough then. Why don't you stay with her, and not come here
annoying me?"

"Oh, I annoy you, do I? You don't mean it, Rose?"

"Yes, I do," said Rose, compressing her lips. "What do you come for?"

"Because--you won't be offended, will you?"

"No."

"Because I am very fond of you, then."

"Fond of me!" said Rose, her heart thrilling--"and you engaged to Kate!
How dare you tell me so, Mr. Stanford?"

Rose's words were all they should have been, but Rose's tone was
anything but severe. Stanford took an easier position on the sofa.

"Because I like to tell the truth. Never mind the viscount, Rose; you
don't care about him, and if you only wait, and are a good girl,
somebody you do care about may propose to you one of these days. Here,
Doctor, there is room for another on our sofa."

"Will I be _de trop_?" asked Doctor Frank, halting.

"Not at all. Rose and I are discussing politics. She thinks Canada
should be annexed to the United States, and I don't. What are your views