hite bed turned down, the easy chair was before the hearth, and
everything was the picture of comfort. She flung off her wrappings on
the carpet, and sat down in the easy chair, and looked into the glowing
cinders, lost in perplexed thought.

What would be the result of that night's adventure? Reginald Stanford,
good-natured and nonchalant, was yet proud. She had seen his face change
in the starlight, as once she had hardly thought it possible that
ever-laughing face could change; she had seen it cold and fixed as
stone. How would he act towards a lady, plighted to be his wife, and yet
who took midnight rambles with another man? Would the engagement be
broken off, and would he leave Canada forever in disgust? Or would he,
forsaking Kate, turn to Kate's younger sister for love and consolation?

Rose's heart throbbed, and her face grew hot in the solitude of her
chamber, at the thought. He would demand an explanation, of course;
would it be haughtily refused by that haughty sister, or would the
mystery of Mr. Richards be opened for him?

A clock down-stairs struck two. Rose remembered that late watching
involved pale cheeks and dull eyes, and got up, said her prayers with
sleepy devotion, and went to bed.

The sunlight of another bright March day flooded her room when she awoke
from a troubled dream of Mr. Richards. It was only seven o'clock, but
she arose, dressed rapidly, and, before eight, opened the dining-room
door.

Early as the hour was, the apartment was occupied. Grace sat at one of
the windows, braiding elaborately an apron, and Captain Danton stood
beside her, looking on. Grace glanced up, her colour heightening at
Rose's entrance.

"Good morning, Miss Rose," said her father. "Early to bed and early to
rise, eh? When did you take to getting up betimes?"

"Good morning, papa. I didn't feel sleepy, and so thought I would come
down."

"What time did you get home last night?"

"I left a little after twelve."

"Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?"

"Yes, papa."

"Reginald was with you?"

"Yes, papa."

"It's all right, I suppose," said her father, pinching her blooming
cheek; "but if I were Kate, I wouldn't allow it. Young man are
changeable as chameleons, and these pink cheeks are tempting."

The pink cheeks turned guiltily scarlet at the words. Grace, looking up
from her work, saw the tell-tale flush; but Captain Danton, going over
to the fire to read the morning paper, said nothing.

Rose stood