an aureole round
her tinseled hair; her slender figure robed in shimmering silk; her
motion floating and light. He remembered that picture long afterwards:
that Canada landscape, that blue silvery mist filling the air, and the
tall, graceful girl, coming slowly homeward, with the fading yellow
light in her golden hair.

After dinner, when the moon rose--a crystal-white crescent--they all
left the drawing-room for the small hall and portico. Kate, a white
shawl on her shoulders, sat on the stone step, and sang, softly, "The
Young May Moon;" Mr. Stanford leaned lightly against one of the stone
pillars, smoking a cigar, and looking up at the blue, far-off sky, his
handsome face pale and still.

"Sing 'When the Swallows Homeward Fly,' Kate," her father said.

She sang the song, softly and a little sadly, with some dim
foreshadowing of trouble weighing at her heart. They lingered there
until the clock struck ten--Kate's songs and the moonlight charming the
hours away. When they went into the house, and took their night-lamps,
Stanford bade them good-bye.

"I shall probably be off before any of you open your eyes on this mortal
life to-morrow morning," he said, "and so had better say good-bye now."

"You leave by the eight A. M. train, then," said the Captain. "It seems
to me everybody is running off just when they ought to stay at home."

Stanford laughed, and shook hands with Grace and Kate--with one as
warmly as with the other--and was gone. Kate's face looked pale and sad,
as she went slowly upstairs with that dim foreshadowing still at her
heart.

Breakfast was awaiting the traveller next morning at half-past seven,
when he ran down stairs, ready for his journey. More than breakfast was
waiting. Kate stood by the window, looking out drearily at the matinal
sunlight.

"Up so early, Kate?" her lover said, with an expression of rapture. "Why
did you take the trouble?"

"It was no trouble," Kate said, slowly, feeling cold and strange.

He sat down to table, but only drank a cup of coffee. As he arose,
Captain Danton and Grace came in.

"We got up betimes to see you off," said the Captain. "A delightful
morning for your journey. There is Sam with the gig now. Look sharp,
Reginald; only fifteen minutes left."

Reginald snatched up his overcoat.

"Good-bye," he said, hurriedly shaking hands with the Captain, then with
Grace. Kate, standing by the window, never turned round. He went up to
her, very, very pale, a