e lightly thrown over; but she was ready at any moment to throw
him over for the comparatively poor Englishman. She had no wish to
offend her lover. Should her dearer hopes fail, he would be a most
desirable party.

"What is the matter with you, Rose?" demanded Jules, uneasily. "You are
changed. You are not what you were in Ottawa. Even your letters of late
are not what they used to be. Why is it? What have I done?"

"You foolish fellow," said Rose, smiling, "nothing! I am not changed.
You only fancy it."

"Then I may speak to your father?"

"Wait until to-morrow," said Rose. "I will think of it. You shall have
my answer after breakfast. Now, don't wear that long face--there is
really no occasion."

Rose dutifully lingered by his side all the evening; but she stole more
glances at Kate's lover than she did at her own. Jules La Touche felt
the impalpable change in her; and yet it would have puzzled him to
define it. His nature was gentle and tender, and he loved the pretty,
fickle, rosy beauty with a depth and sincerity of which she was totally
unworthy.

Upstairs, in her room, that night, Rose sat before the fire, toasting
her feet and thinking. Yes, thinking. She was not guilty of it often;
but to-night she was revolving the pros and cons of her own case. If she
refused to let Jules speak to her father, nothing would persuade him
that her love had not died out. He might depart in anger, and she might
lose him forever. That was the very last thing she wished. If she lost
Reginald, it would be some consolation to marry, immediately after, a
richer man. It would be revenge; it would prove how little she cared for
him; it would deprive him of the pleasure of thinking she was pining in
maiden loneliness for him. Then, too, the public announcement of her
engagement and approaching marriage to M. La Touche might arouse him to
the knowledge of how much he loved her. "How blessings brighten as they
take their flight!" and jealousy is infallible to bring dilatory lovers
to the point. No question of the right or wrong of the matter troubled
the second Miss Danton's easy conscience.

On the whole, everything was in favour of M. La Touche's speaking to
papa. Rose resolved he should speak, took off her considering cap, and
went to bed.

M. La Touche was not kept long in suspense next day; he got his answer
before breakfast. The morning was sunny and mild, but the snow lay piled
high on all sides; and Rose, running down sta