e try and trace her out for you? Her fate
may be ascertained yet. I will go to New York, if you wish, and do my
best."

"No, no," was the reply. "What use would it be? If you discovered her
to-morrow, what would it avail? Better let her fate remain forever
unknown than find my worst fears realized. False, wicked, degraded, as I
know her, I cannot forget how madly I loved her--I cannot forget that I
love her yet."

They walked up and down the tamarack-walk in the frosty starlight, all
still and peaceful around them--the sky, sown with silver stars, so
serene--the earth, white with its snowy garb, all hushed and
tranquil--nothing disturbed but the heart of man, all things at peace
but his storm-tossed soul.

"I am keeping you here," said Harry, "and it is growing late, and cold.
I am selfish and exacting in my misery, as, I fear, poor Kate knows. Let
us go in."

They walked to the house. When they entered, Reginald secured the door,
and the two young men went upstairs together. Ogden sat sleepily on a
chair, and started up at sight of them. Harry Danton held out his hand,
with a faint sad smile.

"Good night," he said; "I am glad to have added another to the list of
my friends. I hope we shall meet soon again. Good night, and pleasant
dreams."

"We shall meet as often as you wish," answered Reginald. "You have my
deepest sympathy. Good night."

The white, despairing face haunted Reginald Stanford's dreams all night,
as if he had indeed been a ghost. He was glad when morning came, and he
could escape the spectres of dream-land in the business of everyday
life. He stopped in the hall on his way down stairs, to look out at the
morning, wet, and cold, and dark, and miserable. As he stood, some one
passed him, going up to the upper bedroom regions of the servants--a
small, pallid little creature, looking like a stray spirit in its black
dress--Agnes Darling.

"Another ghost?" thought Mr. Stanford, running down stairs. "They are
not far wrong who call Danton Hall a haunted house."

CHAPTER XIII.

LOVE-MAKING.

A dismal March afternoon, an earth hard as iron, with black frost, a
wild wind troubling the gaunt trees, and howling mournfully around the
old house. A desolate, wintry afternoon, threatening storm; but despite
its ominous aspect, the young people at Danton Hall had gone off for a
long sleigh-ride. Reginald and Kate had the little shell-shaped cutter,
Rose, Eeny, Mr. Howard, Junior, Miss Howard, a