arrell's return, believing that one look into his face
would banish her forebodings, but, instead, she had read there only a
confirmation of her fears. And now she waited in suspense, longing, yet
dreading to hear his step.

At last he came, and, as he faced the light, Kate was shocked at the
change which so few hours had wrought. He, too, was touched by the
piteous appeal in her eyes, and there was a rare tenderness in voice and
smile as he suggested a stroll through the grounds according to their
custom, which somewhat reassured her.

Perhaps Mr. Underwood and his sister had observed the old shadow of
gloom in Darrell's face, and surmised something of its cause, for their
eyes followed the young people in their walk up and down under the pines
and a softened look stole into their usually impassive faces. At last,
as they passed out of sight on one of the mountain terraces, Mrs. Dean
said, with slight hesitation,--

"Did it ever occur to you, David, that Katherine and Mr. Darrell are
thrown in each other's society a great deal?"

Mr. Underwood shot a keen glance at his sister from under his heavy
brows, as he replied,--

"Come to think of it, I suppose they are, though I can't say as I've
ever given the matter much thought."

"Perhaps it's time you did think about it."

"Come, Marcia," said her brother, good-humoredly, "come to the point;
are you, woman-like, scenting a love-affair in that direction?"

Mrs. Dean found herself unexpectedly cornered. "I don't say that there
is, but I don't know what else you could expect of two young folks like
them, thrown together constantly as they are."

"Well," said Mr. Underwood, with an air of comic perplexity, "do you
want me to send Darrell adrift, or shall I pack Puss off to a convent?"

"Now, David, I'm serious," his sister remonstrated, mildly. "Of course,
I don't know that anything will come of it; but if you don't want that
anything should, I think it's your duty, for Katherine's sake and Mr.
Darrell's also, to prevent it. I think too much of them both to see any
trouble come to either of them."

Mr. Underwood puffed at his pipe in silence, while the gleaming needles
in his sister's fingers clicked with monotonous regularity. When he
spoke his tones lacked their usual brusqueness and had an element almost
of gentleness.

"Was this what was in your mind this morning, Marcia?"

"Well, maybe so," his sister assented.

"I don't think, Marcia, that I need any on