warm hearts, not spoilt by the
fashionable world they live in, darted across the hall, and, regardless
of the snow, welcomed him ardently. They were proud of him, for he is a
handsome dog, with haughty, aristocratic features, and a grand air as
stately as a noble about Versailles in the polished "Age dore."

He shook himself free, and went forward to meet his mother, whom he is
very fond of; while the governor, a fine-looking, genial old fellow,
bade me welcome to Deerhurst. In the library door I caught sight of a
figure in white that I recognised as our belle of the sledge drives; she
was looking at Vivian as he bent down to his mother. As soon as she saw
me though, she disappeared, and he and I went up to our rooms to thaw,
and dress for dinner.

By the fire, talking to Blanche Vivian, stood Cecil, when we went down
to the drawing-room. She always makes me think of a Sevres or Dresden
figure, her coloring is so delicate, and yet brilliant; and if you were
to see her Canadian eyes, her waving chestnut hair, and her
instantaneous, radiant, coquettish smiles, you would not wonder at the
Toronto men losing their heads about her.

"Why, Cecil, you never told me you knew Sydney!" cried Blanche, as
Vivian shook hands with the St. Aubyn. "Where did you meet him? how long
have you been acquainted? why did you never tell me?"

"How could I tell Colonel Vivian was your brother?" said Cecil, playing
with a little silver Cupid driving a barrowful of matches on the
mantelpiece till she tumbled all his matches into the fender.

"You might have asked. Never mind the wax-lights," said Blanche, who,
not having been long out, had a habit of saying anything that came into
her head. "When did you see him? Tell me, Sydney, if she won't."

"Oh, in Canada, dear!" interrupted Cecil, quickly. "But it was for so
short a time I should have thought Colonel Vivian would have forgotten
my face, and name, and existence."

"Nay, Miss St. Aubyn," said Vivian, smiling. "Pardon me, but I think
you must know your own power too well to think that any man who has seen
you once could hope for his own peace to forget you."

The words of course were flattering, but his quizzical smile made them
doubtful. Cecil evidently took them as satire. "At least, you've
forgotten anything we talked about at Toronto," she said, rather
impatiently, "for I remember telling you I detested compliments."

"I shouldn't have guessed it," murmured Vivian, stroking his mu