ully
amid the trees when she rose up. She looked pale, but resolved; and she
dressed herself for a walk, with a veil over her face, and slowly
descended the stairs.

As she opened the house door, Sir Ronald came out of the drawing-room,
not looking too well pleased at having been deserted all the afternoon.

"Are you going out?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Up the village."

"Always up the village!" he exclaimed, impatiently, "and always alone.
May I not go with you? It is growing, late."

"There is no occasion," she replied, looking at him proudly. "I need no
protector in St. Croix."

She opened the door and went out, and walked rapidly down the bleak
avenue to the gates. The authoritative tone of the baronet stung her
proud spirit to the quick.

"What right has he to talk to me like that?" she thought, angrily. "If I
loved him, I would not endure it; I don't love him, and I won't endure
it."

Her eyes flashed as she walked along, lightly and rapidly, holding her
haughty head very erect. Greetings met her on every hand as she passed
through the village. She never paused until she reached the church, and
stood by the entrance gate of the little garden in front of the Cure's
house. There she paused irresolute. How peaceful it was--what a holy
hush seemed to linger round the place! All her courage left her, and she
stood as timid and fluttering as any school-girl. While she hesitated,
the door opened, and Father Francis stood looking at her.

"Come in, Miss Danton," he said. "You look as if you were almost
afraid."

She opened the little gate and went up the path, looking strangely
downcast and troubled. Father Francis held out his hand with a smile.

"I thought you would come to see me before you left Canada," he said,
"although you seem to have rather forgotten your old friends of late.
Come in."

"Are you alone?" Kate asked, following him into the little parlour.

"Quite alone. The Cure has gone two miles off on a sick call. And how
are the good people of Danton Hall?"

"Very well," Kate answered, taking a seat by the window and looking out
at the pale, yellow sunset.

"That is, except yourself, Miss Danton. You have grown thin within the
last fortnight. What is the matter?"

"I am not very happy," she said, with a little tremor of the voice;
"perhaps that is it."

"Not happy?" repeated Father Francis, with a short, peculiar laugh. "I
thought when young ladies married baronets, the height of