It had been a trying day for her. On waking, her happiness had seemed

complete, but Darrell's absence on that morning of all mornings had

seemed to her inexplicable, and when her guests had taken their

departure and the long day wore on without his return and with no

message from him, an indefinable dread haunted her. She had watched

eagerly for Darrell's return, believing that one look into his face

would banish her forebodings, but, instead, she had read there only a

confirmation of her fears. And now she waited in suspense, longing, yet

dreading to hear his step.

At last he came, and, as he faced the light, Kate was shocked at the

change which so few hours had wrought. He, too, was touched by the

piteous appeal in her eyes, and there was a rare tenderness in voice and

smile as he suggested a stroll through the grounds according to their

custom, which somewhat reassured her.

Perhaps Mr. Underwood and his sister had observed the old shadow of

gloom in Darrell's face, and surmised something of its cause, for their

eyes followed the young people in their walk up and down under the pines

and a softened look stole into their usually impassive faces. At last,

as they passed out of sight on one of the mountain terraces, Mrs. Dean

said, with slight hesitation,-"Did it ever occur to you, David, that Katherine and Mr. Darrell are

thrown in each other's society a great deal?"

Mr. Underwood shot a keen glance at his sister from under his heavy

brows, as he replied,-"Come to think of it, I suppose they are, though I can't say as I've

ever given the matter much thought."

"Perhaps it's time you did think about it."

"Come, Marcia," said her brother, good-humoredly, "come to the point;

are you, woman-like, scenting a love-affair in that direction?"

Mrs. Dean found herself unexpectedly cornered. "I don't say that there

is, but I don't know what else you could expect of two young folks like

them, thrown together constantly as they are."

"Well," said Mr. Underwood, with an air of comic perplexity, "do you

want me to send Darrell adrift, or shall I pack Puss off to a convent?"

"Now, David, I'm serious," his sister remonstrated, mildly. "Of course,

I don't know that anything will come of it; but if you don't want that

anything should, I think it's your duty, for Katherine's sake and Mr.

Darrell's also, to prevent it. I think too much of them both to see any

trouble come to either of them."

Mr. Underwood puffed at his pipe in silence, while the gleaming needles

in his sister's fingers clicked with monotonous regularity. When he

spoke his tones lacked their usual brusqueness and had an element almost

of gentleness.




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