e on his face,
humming a line or two of a ballad.

"'Long have I been true to you. Now I'm true no longer.' Too bad, Eeny,
we should lose the wedding, and one wedding, they say, makes many."

"Too bad!" echoed Eeny, indignantly. "Oh, Doctor Frank, it was cruel of
Rose, wasn't it? You would hardly know poor Kate now."

"Hush!" said the Doctor, "here she comes!"

A tall, slender figure came out from the orchard path, book in hand, and
advanced slowly towards the house. Was it the ghost, the wraith, the
shadow of beautiful Kate Danton? The lovely golden hair, glittering in
the dying radiance of the sunset, and coiled in shining twists round the
head, was the same; the deep large eyes, so darkly blue, were clear and
cloudless as ever, and yet changed totally in expression. The queenly
grace that always characterized her, characterized her still; but how
wasted the supple form, how shadowy and frail it had grown. The haggard
change in the pale face, the nervous contraction of the mouth, the
sunken eyes, with those dark circles, told their eloquent tale.

"Poor child!" Doctor Frank said, with a look of unspeakable pity and
tenderness; "it was cruel!"

Eeny ran away to change her dress. Grace lightly dusted the furniture,
and her brother stood by the window and watched that fragile-looking
girl coming slowly up through the amber air.

"How tired she looks!" he said.

"Kate?" said Grace, coming over. "She is always like that now. Tired at
getting up, tired at lying down, listless and apathetic always. If
Reginald Stanford had murdered her, it would hardly have been a more
wicked act."

Her brother did not reply.

A few minutes later, Kate walked into the room, still with that slow,
weary step. She looked at the new-comer with listless indifference,
spoke a few words of greeting with cold apathy, and then retreated to
another window, and bent her eyes on her book.

Captain Danton returned just as the dinner-bell was ringing; and his
welcome made up in cordiality what his daughter's lacked. He, too, had
changed. His florid face had lost much of its colour, and was grown
thin, and his eyes were ever wandering, with a look of mournful
tenderness, to his pale daughter.

They were all rather silent. Grace and her brother and the Captain
talked in a desultory sort of way during dinner; but Kate never spoke,
except when directly addressed, and silence was Eeny's forte. She sat
down to the piano after dinner, according to