Kate Danton | Page 4

prince of the blood-royal too good for his peerless Kate."
"The duse he wouldn't! What an uplifted old fellow he must be!"
"Captain Danton is not old. His age is about forty-five, and he does not look forty."
"Then I'll tell you what to do, Grace--marry him!"
"Frank, don't be absurd! Do you know you will have everything in this room smelling of tobacco for a week. I can't permit it, sir."
"Well, I'll be off," said her brother, looking at his watch, "I promised to return in half an hour for supper."
"Promised whom?"
"M. le Cur��. Oh, you don't know I am stopping at the presbytery. I happened to meet the curate, Father Francis, in Montreal--we were school-boys together--and he was about the wildest, most mischievous fellow I ever met. We were immense friends--a fellow-feeling, you know, makes us wondrous kind. Judge of my amazement on meeting him on Notre Dame street, in soutane and broad-brimmed hat, and finding he had taken to Mother Church. You might have knocked me down with a feather, I assure you. Mutual confidences followed; and when he learned I was coming to St. Croix, he told me that I must pitch my tent with him. Capital quarters it is, too; and M. le Cur�� is the soul of hospitality. Will you give me a glass of wine after that long speech, and to fortify me for my homeward route?"
Grace rang and ordered wine. Doctor Danton drank his glass standing, and then drew on his gloves.
"Have you to walk?" asked his sister. "I will order the buggy for you."
"By no means. I rode up here on the Cur��'s nag, and came at the rate of a funeral. The old beast seemed to enjoy himself, and to rather like getting soaked through, and I have no doubt will return as he came. And now I must go; it would never do to be found here by these grand people--Captain and Miss Danton."
His wet overcoat hung on a chair; he put it on while walking to the door, with Grace by his side.
"When shall I see you again, Frank?"
"To-morrow. I want to have a look at our English beauty. By Jove! it knows how to rain in Canada."
The cold November blast swept in as Grace opened the front door, and the rain fell in a downpour. In the black darkness Grace could just discern a white horse fastened to a tree.
"That is ominous, Grace," said her brother. "Captain Danton and his daughter come heralded by wind and tempest. Take care it is not prophetic of domestic squalls."
He ran down the steps, but was back again directly.
"Who was that pale, blue-eyed fairy I met when I entered?"
"Eveleen Danton."
"Give her my best regards--Doctor Frank's. She will be rather pretty, I think; and if Miss Kate snubs me, perhaps I shall fall back on Miss Eveleen. It seems to me I should like to get into so great a family. Once more, bon soir, sister mine, and pleasant dreams."
He was gone this time for good. His sister stood in the doorway, and watched the white horse and its tall, dark rider vanish under the tossing trees.
CHAPTER II.
KATE DANTON.
Grace went slowly back to the parlour and stood looking thoughtfully into the fire. It was pleasant in that pleasant parlour, bright with the illumination of lamp and fire--doubly pleasant in contrast with the tumult of wind and rain without. Very pleasant to Grace, and she sighed wearily as she looked up from the ruby coals to the radiant face smiling down from over the mantel.
"You will be mistress to-morrow," she thought; "the place I have held for the last four years is yours from to-night. Beautiful as a queen. What will your reign be like, I wonder?"
She drew up the arm-chair her brother had vacated and sat down, her thoughts drifting backward to the past. Backward four years, and she saw herself, a penniless orphan, dependent on the bounty of that miserly Uncle Roosevelt in Montreal. She saw again the stately gentleman who came to her, and told her he was her father's third cousin, Captain Danton, of Danton Hall. She had never seen him before; but she had heard of her wealthy cousin from childhood, and knew his history. She knew he had married in early youth an English lady, who had died ten years after, leaving four children--a son, Henry, and three daughters, Katherine, Rosina and Eveleen. The son, wild and wayward all his life, broke loose at the age of twenty, forged his father's name, and fled to New York, married an actress, got into a gambling affray, and was stabbed. That was the end of him. The eldest daughter, born in England, had been brought up by her maternal grandmother, who was rich, and whose heiress she was to be. Mrs. Danton and