ng camp, with plenty of desperate
characters. My father trained me as he would have trained a boy, and,"
she added, significantly, with a bright, proud smile, "I am just as
proficient now as I was then!"

Darrell scarcely heeded the import of her words, so struck was he by the
change in her face, which had suddenly grown wonderfully like her
father's,--stern, impassive, unrelenting. She smiled, and the look
vanished, and for the time he thought no more of it, but as the passing
cloud sometimes reveals features in a landscape unnoticed in the
sunlight, so it had disclosed a phase of character latent, unguessed
even by those who knew her best.

Two hours later the last carriage had gone; the guests from out of town
who were to remain at The Pines for the night had retired, and darkness
and silence had gradually settled over the house. A light still burned
in Mr. Underwood's private room, where he paced back and forth, his
brows knit in deep thought, but his stern face lighted with a smile of
intense satisfaction. Darrell, who had remained below to assist Mrs.
Dean in the performance of a few last duties, having accompanied her in
a final tour of the deserted rooms to make sure that all was safe, bade
her good-night and went upstairs. To his surprise, Kate's library was
still lighted, and through the open door he could see her at her desk
writing.

She looked up on hearing his step, and, as he approached, rose and came
to the door.

She had exchanged her evening gown for a dainty robe de chambre of
white cashmere and lace, and, standing there against the background of
mellow light, her hair coiled low on her neck, while numerous
intractable locks curled about her ears and temples, it was small wonder
that Darrell's eyes bespoke his admiration and love, even if his lips
did not.

"Writing at this time of night!" he exclaimed; "we supposed you asleep
long ago."

"Sh! don't speak so loud," she protested. "You'll have Aunt Marcia up
here! I have nearly finished my writing, so you needn't scold."

Glancing at the large journal lying open on her desk, Darrell asked,
with a quizzical smile,--

"Couldn't that have been postponed for a few hours?"

"Not to-night," she replied, with emphasis; "ordinarily, you know, it
could and would have been postponed, perhaps indefinitely, but not
to-night!"

She glanced shyly into his eyes, and her own fell, as she added, in a
lower tone,--

"To-night has memories so golden I wan