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who knew of its grisly presence were something wonderful.

In the black and bitterly cold dawn of early morning the dancers went
shivering home. The first train bore the city guests, blue and fagged,
to Montreal; and Doctor Frank walked briskly through the piercing air
over the frozen snow to his hotel. And up in her room old Margery lay in
disturbed sleep, watched over by dozing Babette, and moaning out at
restless intervals.

"Master Harry! Master Harry! O Miss Kate! it was Master Harry's ghost!"

CHAPTER VI.

ROSE'S ADVENTURE.

December wore out in wild snow-storms and wintry winds. Christmas came,
solemn and shrouded in white; and Kate Danton's fair hands decorated the
little village church with evergreens and white roses for Father
Francis; and Kate Danton's sweet voice sang the dear old "Adeste
Fideles" on Christmas morning. Kate Danton, too, with the princely
spirit that nature and habit had given her, made glad the cottages of
the poor with gifts of big turkeys, and woolly blankets, and barrels of
flour. They half adored, these poor people, the stately young lady, with
the noble and lovely face, so unlike anything St. Croix had ever seen
before. Proud as she was, she was never proud with them--God's poor
ones; she was never proud when she knelt in their midst, in that lowly
little church, and cried "Mea culpa" as humbly as the lowliest sinner
there.

New-Year came with its festivities, bringing many callers from Montreal,
and passed; and Danton Hall fell into its customary tranquillity once
more. Sir Ronald Keith was still their guest; Doctor Frank was still an
inmate of the St. Croix Hotel, and a regular visitor at the Hall. More
letters had come for Kate from England; Lieutenant Stanford's regiment
had gone to Ireland, and he said nothing of leave of absence or a visit
to Canada. Rose got weekly epistles from Ottawa; her darling Jules
poured out floods of undying love in the very best French, and Rose
smiled over them complacently, and went down and made eyes at Doctor
Frank all the evening. And old Margery was not recovered yet from the
ghost-seeing fright, and would not remain an instant alone by night or
day for untold gold.

The sunset of a bright January day was turning the western windows of
Danton Hall to sheets of beaten gold. The long, red lances of light
pierced through the black trees, tinged the piled up snow-drifts, and
made the low evening sky one blaze of crimson splendour. Ee