gate as she rode up, and took off his hat
with Canadian courtesy to the young lady.

"Is Mr. Reinecourt in, Mr. Jacques?" asked Rose, preparing to dismount.

Jacques lifted his eyebrows in polite surprise.

"Doesn't Mademoiselle know, then?"

"Know what?"

"That Monsieur has gone?"

"Gone?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle, half an hour ago. Gone for good."

"But he will come back?" said Rose, faintly, her heart seeming suddenly
to stop beating.

Old Jacques shook his head.

"No, Mam'selle. Monsieur has paid me like a king, shook hands with
Margot and me, and gone forever."

There was a dead pause. Rose clutched her bridle-rein, and felt the
earth spinning under her, her face growing-white and cold.

"Did he leave no message--no message for me?"

She could barely utter the words, the shock, the consternation were so
great. Something like a laugh shone in old Jacques' eyes.

"No, Mademoiselle, he never spoke of you. He only paid us, and said
good-bye, and went away."

Rose turned Regina slowly round in a stunned sort of way, and with the
reins loose on her neck, let her take her road homeward. A dull sense of
despair was all she was conscious of. She could not think, she could not
reason, her whole mind was lost in blank consternation. He was gone. She
could not get beyond that--he was gone.

The boy who came to lead away her horse stared at her changed face; the
servant who opened the door opened his eyes, also, at sight of her. She
never heeded them; a feeling that she wanted to be alone was all she
could realize, and she walked straight to a little alcove opening from
the lower end of the long entrance-hall. An archway and a curtain of
amber silk separated it from the drawing-room, of which it was a sort of
recess. A sofa, piled high with downy pillows, stood invitingly under a
window. Among these pillows poor Rose threw herself, to do battle with
her despair.

While she lay there in tearless rage, she heard the drawing-room door
open, and some one come in.

"Who shall I say, sir?" insinuated the servant.

"Just say a friend wishes to see Miss Danton," was the answer.

That voice! Rose bounded from the sofa, her eyes wild, her lips apart.
Her hand shook as she drew aside the curtain and looked out. A gentleman
was there, but he sat with his back to her, and his figure was only
partially revealed. Rose's heart beat in great plunges against her side,
but she restrained herself and waited. Ten minutes, and