under cloud.

"Everybody is well, papa."

"Satisfactory, but not explanatory. Everybody means the good people at
Stanford Royals, I suppose?"

"Yes, papa."

"Where is Reginald?"

"At Windsor. But his regiment is ordered to Ireland."

"To Ireland! Then he can't come over this winter?"

"I don't know. He may get leave of absence."

"I hope so--I hope so. Capital fellow is Reginald. Did you see him
before you left England, Sir Ronald?"

"I met Lieutenant Stanford at a dinner party the week I left," said Sir
Ronald, stiffly--so stiffly, that the subject was dropped at once.

After breakfast, Captain Danton retired to his study to answer his
letters, and Sir Ronald and Kate started for their morning ride across
the country. She had invited Rose to accompany them, and Rose had rather
sulkily declined.

"I never admire spread-eagles," sneered the second Miss Danton, "and I
don't care for being third in these cases--I might be _de trop_. Sir
Ronald Keith's rather a stupid cavalier. I prefer staying at home, I
thank you."

"As you please," Kate said, and went off to dress.

Rose got a novel, and sat down at the upper half window to mope and
read. The morning was dark and overcast, the leaden sky threatened snow,
and the wailing December wind was desolation itself. The house was very
still; faint and far off the sound of Eeny's piano could be heard, and
now and then a door somewhere opening and shutting. Ogden came from Mr.
Richards' apartment, locked the door after him, put the key in his
pocket, and went away. Rose dropped her book and sat gazing at that
door--that Bluebeard's chamber--that living mystery in their
common-place Canadian home. While she looked at it, some one came
whistling up the stairs. It was her father, and he stopped at sight of
her.

"You here, Rose, my dear; I thought you had gone out riding with Kate."

"Kate doesn't want me, papa," replied Rose, with a French shrug. "She
has company she likes better."

"What, Sir Ronald! Nonsense, Rose! Kate is Sir Ronald's very good
friend--nothing more."

Rose gave another shrug.

"Perhaps so, papa. It looks like flirting, but appearances are
deceitful. Papa!"

"Yes, my dear."

"I wish you would let me go back to Ottawa!"

"To Ottawa! Why, you only left it the other day. What do you want to go
back to Ottawa for?"

"It's so dull here, papa," answered Rose, fidgeting with her book, "and
I had such a good time there. I shall die of the dism