to you like this. Your heart acknowledges the
truth of every word I have said; and remember there is but one recipe
for real happiness--goodness. Be good and you will be happy. It is a
hackneyed precept out of a copy-book," Father Francis said, with a
slight smile; "but believe me, it is the only infallible rule. Rouse
yourself to a better life, my dear Kate; begin a new and more perfect
life, and God will help you. Remember, dear child, 'There is a love that
never fails when earthly loves decay.'"

She did not speak. She rose up, cold, and white, and rigid. The priest
arose too.

"Are you going?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You are not offended with me for all this plain talk? I like you so
much, you know, that I want to see you happy."

"Offended?" she answered, "oh, no! Some day I will thank you; I cannot
now."

She opened the door and was gone, flitting along, a lonely figure in the
bleak winter twilight. She never paused in her rapid walk until she
reached Danton Hall; and then, pale and absorbed, she ran rapidly
upstairs, and shut herself into her room. Throwing off her bonnet and
mantle, she sat down to her writing-desk at once, and without waiting to
think, took up a pen and dashed off a rapid note:

"Sir Ronald:--I have deceived you. I have done very wrong.
I don't love you--I never can; and I cannot be your wife. I am very
sorry; I ask you to forgive me--to be generous, and release me from
my promise. I should be miserable as your wife, and I would make
you miserable too. Oh! pray forgive me, and release me, for indeed
I cannot marry you.

"Kate Danton."

She folded the note rapidly, placed it in an envelope, wrote the
address, "Sir Ronald Keith," and sealed it. Still in the same rapid way,
as if she were afraid to pause, afraid to trust herself, she arose and
rang the bell. Eunice answered the summons, and stared aghast at her
mistress' face.

"Do you know if Sir Ronald is in the house?" Miss Danton asked.

"Yes, Miss; he's sitting in the library, reading a paper."

"Is he alone?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Take this letter to him, then; and, Eunice, tell Miss Grace I will not
be down to dinner. You can fetch me a cup of tea here. I do not feel
very well."

Eunice departed on her errand. Kate drew a long, long breath of relief
when she closed the door after her. She drew her favourite chair up
before the fire, took a book off the table, and seated herself
resolutely to r