ess commenced. Kate held a long
consultation with Rose in her boudoir; but Rose, marvellous to tell,
took very little interest in the subject. She, who all her life made
dress the great concern of her existence, all at once, in this most
important crisis, grew indifferent.

She accompanied Kate to Montreal, however, and helped in the selection
of laces, and silks, and flowers, and ribbons; and another dressmaker
was hunted up and carried back.

It was a busy time after that; the needles of Agnes Darling, Eunice, and
the new dressmaker flew from morning until night. Grace lent her
assistance, and Kate was always occupied superintending, and being
fitted and refitted, and had no time to think how lonely the house was,
or how much she missed Reginald Stanford. She was happy beyond the power
of words to describe; the time was near when they would never part
again--when she would be his--his happy, happy wife.

It was all different with Rose; she had changed in a most unaccountable
manner. All her movements were languid and listless, she who had been
wont to keep the house astir; she took no interest in the bridal dresses
and jewellery; she shrank from every one, and wanted to be alone. She
grew pale, and thin, and hysterical, and so petulant that it was a risk
to speak to her. What was the matter?--every one asked that question,
and Grace and Grace's brother were the only two who guessed within a
mile of the truth.

And so April wore away. Time, that goes on forever--steadily, steadily,
for the happy and the miserable--was bringing the fated time near. The
snow had fled, the new grass and fresh buds were green on the lawn and
trees, and the birds sang their _glorias_ in the branches so lately
tossed by the wintry winds.

Doctor Danton was still at St. Croix, but he was going away, too. He had
had an interview with Agnes Darling, whose hopes were on the ebb; and
once more had tried to engraft his own bright, sanguine nature on hers.

"Never give up, Agnes," he said, cheerily. "Patience, patience yet a
little longer. I shall return for my sister's wedding, and I think it
will be all right then."

Agnes listened and sighed wearily. The ghost of Danton Hall had been
very well behaved of late, and had frightened no one. The initiated knew
that Mr. Richards was not very well, and that the night air was
considered unhealthy, so he never left his rooms. The tamarack walk was
undisturbed in the lonely April nights--at least