Kate Danton | Page 3

speak of him."
She went down stairs again and back to the dining-room. Eeny was there, standing before the fire, her light shape and delicate face looking fragile in the red fire-light.
"Oh, Grace," said she, "I have just sent Babette in search of you. There is a visitor in the parlour for you."
"For me?"
"Yes, a gentleman; young, and rather handsome. I asked him who I should say wished to see you, and--what do you think?--he would not tell."
"No! What did he say?"
"Told me to mention to Miss Grace Danton that a friend wished to see her. Mysterious, is it not?"
"Who can it be?" said Grace, thoughtfully. "What does this mysterious gentleman look like, Eeny?"
"Very tall," said Eeny, "and very stately, with brown hair, and beard and mustache--a splendid mustache, Grace! and beautiful, bright brown eyes, something like yours. Very good-looking, very polite, and with the smile of an angel. There you have him."
"I am as much at a loss as ever," said Grace, leaving the dining-room. "This is destined to be an evening of arrivals I think."
She ran upstairs for the second time, and opened the parlour door. A gentleman before the fire, in the seat Eeny had vacated, arose at her entrance. Grace stood still an instant, doubt, amaze, delight, alternately in her face; then with a cry of "Frank!" she sprang forward, and was caught in the tall stranger's arms.
"I thought you would recognize me in spite of the whiskers," said the stranger. "Here, stand off and let me look at you; let me see the changes six years have wrought in my sister Grace."
He held her out at arm's length, and surveyed her smilingly.
"A little older--a little graver, but otherwise the same. My solemn Gracie, you will look like your own grandmother at thirty."
"Well, I feel as if I had lived a century or two now. When did you come?"
"From Germany, last week; from Montreal at noon."
"You have been a week in Montreal then?"
"With Uncle Roosevelt--yes."
"How good it seems to see you again, Frank. How long will you stay here--in St. Croix?"
"That depends--until I get tired, I suppose. So Captain Danton and his eldest daughter are here from England?"
"How did you learn that?"
"Saw their arrival in Montreal duly chronicled."
"What is she like, Grace?"
"Who?"
"Miss Kate Danton."
"I don't know. I expect them every moment; I should think they came by the same train you did."
"Perhaps so--I rode second-class. I got talking to an old Canadian, and found him such a capital old fellow, that I kept beside him all the way. By-the-by, Grace, you've got into very comfortable quarters, haven't you?"
"Yes, Danton Hall is a very fine place."
"How long is it you have been here?"
"Four years."
"And how often has the Captain been in that time?"
"Twice; but he has given up the sea now, and is going to settle down."
"I thought his eldest daughter was a fixture in England?"
"So did I," said Grace; "but the grandmother with whom she lived has died, it appears; consequently, she comes to her natural home for the first time. That is her picture."
Miss Danton's brother raised his handsome brown eyes to the exquisite face, and took a long survey.
"She ought to be a beauty if she looks like that. Belle blonde, and I admire blondes so much! do you know, Grace, I think I shall fall in love with her?"
"Don't. It will be of no use."
"Why not? I am a Danton--a gentleman--a member of the learned profession of medicine and not so bad-looking. Why not, Grace?"
He rose up as he said it, his brown eyes smiling. Not so bad-looking, certainly. A fine-looking fellow, as he leaned against the marble mantel, bronzed and bearded, and a thorough gentleman.
"It is all of no use," Grace said, with an answering smile. "Doctor Danton's numberless perfections will be quite lost on the heiress of Danton Hall. She is engaged."
"What a pity! Who is the lucky man?"
"Hon. Lieutenant Reginald Stanford, of Stanford Royals, Northumberland, England, youngest son of Lord Reeves."
"Then mine is indeed a forlorn hope! What chance has an aspiring young doctor against the son of a lord."
"You would have no chance in any case," said Grace, with sudden seriousness. "I once asked her father which his eldest daughter most resembled, Rose or Eeny. 'Like neither,' was his reply. 'My daughter Kate is beautiful, and stately, and proud as a queen.' I shall never forget his own proud smile as he said it."
"You infer that Miss Danton, if free, would be too proud to mate with a mere plebeian professional man."
"Yes."
"Then resignation is all that remains. Is it improper to smoke in this sacred chamber, Grace? I must have something to console me. Quite a grand alliance for Danton's daughter, is it not?"
"They do not seem to think so. I heard her father say he would not consider a