would have thought of seeing you in Canada?"

She held out her hand frankly, but there was a marked air of restraint
in Sir Ronald's manner as he touched it and dropped it again.

"I thought it would be an astonisher," said her father; "how are Grace
and Eeny?"

"Very well."

"And Rose? Has Rose got home?"

"Yes, papa."

At this juncture Ogden appeared, and his master turned to him.

"Ogden, see that Sir Ronald's luggage is taken to his room, and then
hold yourself in readiness to attend him. This way, Sir Ronald, there is
just time to dress for dinner, and no more."

He led his visitor to the bedroom regions, and Kate returned to the
drawing-room. Rose was there dressed beautifully, and with flowers in
her hair, and all curiosity to hear who their visitor was. There was a
heightened colour in Kate's face and an altered expression in her eyes
that puzzled Grace.

"He is Sir Ronald Keith," she said, in reply to Rose. "I have known him
for years."

"Sir Ronald; knight or baronet?"

"Baronet, of course," Kate said, coldly; "and Scotch. Don't get into a
gale, Rose; you won't care about him; he is neither young nor handsome."

"Is he unmarried?"

"Yes."

"And rich?"

"His income is eight thousand a year."

"_Mon Dieu!_ A baronet and eight thousand a year! Kate, I am going to
make a dead set at him. Lady Keith--Lady Rose Keith; that sounds
remarkably well, doesn't it? I always thought I should like to be 'my
lady.' Grace, how do I look?"

Kate sat down to the piano, and drowned Rose's words in a storm of
music. Rose looked at her with pursed-up lips.

"Kate is in one of her high and mighty moods," she thought. "I don't
pretend to understand her. If she is engaged in England, what difference
can it make to her whether I flirt with this Scotch baronet or not? What
do I care for her airs? I'll flirt if I please."

She sat still, twisting her glossy ringlets round her fingers, while
Kate played on with that unsmiling face. Half an hour, and the
dinner-bell rang. Ten minutes after, Captain Danton and his guest stood
before them.

For a moment Rose did not see him; her father's large proportions, as he
took her in his arms and kissed her, overshadowed every one else.

"How my little Rose has grown!" the Captain said looking at her fondly;
"as plump as a partridge and as Rosy as her name. Sir Ronald--my
daughter Rose."

Rose bowed with finished grace, thinking, with a profound sense of
disappointment: