met, at the great door
which gave entrance to the spacious hallway extending through the
house, by a stately and gracious, if somewhat elderly gentleman.

There was a striking similarity, if not in facial appearance, at least
in the erect carriage and free air, between him and the young girl who,
disregarding his outstretched hand and totally disorganizing his
ceremonious bow, threw her arms about his neck and kissed him with
unwonted warmth, much to his dismay and yet not altogether to his
displeasure. Perhaps he suspected something from the bright and happy
faces of the two young people; but if so, he made no comment, merely
telling them that supper had been waiting this long time, and bidding
them hasten their preparation for the meal.

Katharine, followed by Chloe, her black maid, who had been waiting for
her, hastily ran up the stairs to her own apartments, upon this signal,
but turned upon the topmost stair and waved a kiss to the two gentlemen
who were watching her,--one with the dim eyes of an old father, the
other with the bright eyes of a young lover.

"Colonel Wilton," exclaimed Seymour, impulsively, "I have something to
say to you,--something I must say."

"Not now, my young friend," replied the colonel, genially. "Supper
will be served, nay, is served already, and only awaits you and
Katharine; afterward we shall have the whole evening, and you may say
what you will."

"Oh, but, colonel--"

"Nay, sir, do not lay upon me the unpleasant duty of commanding a
guest, when it is my privilege as host to entreat. Go, Mr. Seymour,
and make you ready. Katharine will return in a moment, and it does not
beseem gentlemen, much less officers, to keep a lady waiting, you know.
Philip and Bentley have gone fishing, and I am informed they will not
return until late. We will not wait for them."

"As you wish, sir, but I must have some private conversation with you
as soon as possible."

"After supper, my boy, after supper."

CHAPTER III

_Colonel Wilton._

Left to himself for a moment, the colonel heaved a deep sigh; he had a
premonition of what was coming, and then paced slowly up and down the
long hall.

He was attired, with all the splendor of an age in which the subject of
dress engrossed the attention of the wisest and best, in the height of
the prevailing mode, which his recent arrival from Paris, then as now
the mould of fashion, permitted him to determine. The soft light from
the wax cand