Kate Danton, or, Captain Danton's Daughters Part 8

Dinner went on and ended. The ladies left the dining-room; the gentlemen lingered, but not long.

Kate was at the piano entrancing Eeny, and Grace sat at her crochet.

Miss Danton got up and made tea, and the young Doctor lay back in an arm-chair talking to Eeny, and watched, with half-closed eyes, the delicate hands floating deftly along the fragile china cups.

"Give us some music, Kate," her father said, when it was over. "Grace, put away your knitting, and be my partner in a game of whist. Father Francis and the Doctor will stand no chance against us."

The quartet sat down. Kate's hands flew up and down the s.h.i.+ning octaves of her piano, and filled the room with heavenly harmony, the waves of music that ebbed, and flowed, and fascinated. She played until the card party broke up, and then she wheeled round on her stool.

"Who are the victors?" she asked.

"We are," said the Doctor. "When I make up my mind to win, I always win.

The victory rests solely with me."

"I'll vouch for your skill in cheating," said Grace. "Father Francis, I am surprised that you countenance such dishonest proceedings."

"I wouldn't in any one but my partner," said the young priest, crossing over to the piano. "Don't cease playing, Miss Danton. I am devotedly fond of music, and it is very rarely indeed I hear such music as you have given us to-night. You sing, do you not?"

"Sing!" exclaimed her father. "Kate sings like a nightingale. Sing us a Scotch song, my dear."

"What shall it be, papa?"

"Anything. 'Auld Robin Gray,' if you like."

Kate sang the sweet old Scottish ballad with a pathos that went to every heart.

"That is charming," said Father Francis. "Sing for me, now, Scots wha hae."

She glanced up at him brightly; it was a favourite of her own, and she sang it for him as he had never heard it sung before.

"Have you no favourite, Doctor Danton?" she asked, turning to him with that dangerous smile of hers. "I want to treat all alike."

"Do you sing 'Hear me, Norma'?"

Her answer was the song. Then she arose from the instrument, and Father Francis pulled out his watch.

"What will the Cure think of us!" he exclaimed; "half-past eleven.

Danton, get up this instant and let us be off."

"I had no idea it was so late," said the doctor, rising, despite the Captain's protest. "Your music must have bewitched us, Miss Danton."

They shook hands with the Captain and departed.

Grace and Eeny went upstairs at once. Kate was lingering still in the drawing-room when her father came back from seeing his guests off.

"A fine fellow, that young doctor," said the Captain, in his hearty way; "a remarkably fine fellow. Don't you think so, Kate?"

"He is well-bred," said Kate, listlessly. "I think I prefer Father Francis. Good-night, papa."

She kissed her father and went slowly up to her room. Eunice was there waiting to undress her, and Kate lay back in an arm chair while the girl took down and combed out her long hair. She lay with half-closed eyes, dreaming tenderly, not of this evening, not of Dr. Danton, but of another, handsomer, dearer, and far away.

CHAPTER IV.

ROSE DANTON.

Next morning, when the family a.s.sembled at breakfast, Captain Danton found a letter on his plate, summoning him in haste to Montreal.

"Business, my dear," he said, answering his eldest daughter's enquiring look; "business of moment."

"Nothing concerning--" She paused, looking startled. "Nothing relating to--"

"To Mr. Richards. No, my dear. How do you ladies purpose spending the day?"

He looked at Grace, who smiled.

"My duties are all arranged," she said. "There is no fear of the day hanging heavily on my hands."

"And you two?"

"I don't know, papa," said Kate listlessly. "I can practise, and read, and write letters, and visit Mr. Richards. I dare-say I will manage."

"Let us have a drive," said Eeny. "We can drive with papa to the station, and then get Thomas to take us everywhere. It's a lovely day, and you have seen nothing of St. Croix and our country roads yet."

Eeny's idea was applauded, and immediately after breakfast the barouche was ordered out, and Thomas was in attendance. Mr. Ogden packed his master's valise, and the trio entered the carriage and were driven off.

"Attend to Mr. Richards as usual, Ogden," said the Captain, as Ogden helped him into his overcoat. "I will be back to-morrow."

Grace stood in the doorway and watched the barouche until the winding drive hid it from view. Then she went back to attend to her housekeeper's duties--to give the necessary orders for dinner, see that the rooms were being properly arranged, and so forth. Everything was going on well; the house was in exquisite order from attic to cellar.

Ogden shut up with Mr. Richards, the servants quietly busy, and Danton Hall as still as a church on a week-day. Grace, humming a little tune, took her sewing into the dining-room, where she liked best to sit, and began st.i.tching away industriously. The ticking of a clock on the mantel making its way to twelve, the rattling of the stripped trees in the fresh morning wind, were, for a time, the only sounds outdoor or in.

Then wheels rattled rapidly over the graveled drive, coming to the house in a hurry, and Grace looked up in surprise.

"Back so soon," she thought? "They cannot have driven far."

But it was not the handsome new barouche--it was only a shabby little buggy from the station, in which a young lady sat with a pile of trunks and bandboxes.

"Rose!" exclaimed Grace. "I quite forgot she was coming to-day."

A moment later and the front door opened and shut with a bang, flying feet came along the hall, a silk dress rustled stormily, the dining-room door was flung open, and a young lady bounced in and caught Grace in a rapturous hug.

"You darling old thing!" cried a fresh young voice. "I knew I should find you here, even if I hadn't seen you sitting at the window. Aren't you glad to have me home again? And have you got anything to eat? I declare I'm famished!"

Pouring all this out in a breath, with kisses for commas, the young lady released Grace, and flung herself into an arm-chair.

"Ring the bell, Grace, and let us have something to eat. You don't know how hungry I am. Are you alone? Where are the rest?"

Grace, taking this shower of questions with const.i.tutional phlegm, arose, rang the bell, and ordered cakes and cold chicken; the young lady meantime taking off her pretty black velvet turban, with its long feather, flung it in a corner, and sent her shawl, gloves, and fur collar flying after it.