Perhaps Doctor Frank found it very pleasant to be ordered, for he obeyed with a smile on his face.

Of course, with such a nurse as Miss Danton, the man would be obstinate, indeed, who would not rally. Doctor Frank was the reverse of obdurate, and rallied with astonishing rapidity. His sister, Eeny, and Kate were the most devoted, the most attentive of nurses; but the hours that Captain Danton's eldest daughter sat by his bedside flew like so many minutes. It was very pleasant to lie there, propped up with pillows, with the April sunshine lying in yellow squares on the faded old carpet, and watch that beautiful face, bending over some piece of elaborate embroidery, or the humble dress of some village child. She read for him, too, charming romances, and poetry as sweet as the ripple of a sunlit brook, in that enchanting voice of hers; and Doctor Frank began to think convalescence the most delightful state of being that ever was heard of, and to wish it could last forever.

But, like all the pleasant things of this checkered life, it came to an end all too soon. The day arrived when he sat up in his easy chair by the open window, with the scented breezes blowing in his face, and watched dreamily the cows grazing in the fields, and the dark-eyed French girls tripping up and down the dusty road. Then, a little later, and he could walk about in the tiny garden before the cottage, and sit up the whole day long. He was getting better fast; and Miss Danton, concluding her occupation was gone, became very much like the Miss Danton of old. Not imperious and proud--she never would be that again--but reserved and distant, and altogether changed; the delightful readings were no more, the pleasant _tete-a-tetes_ were among the things of the past, the long hours spent by his side, with some womanly work in her fingers, were over and gone. She was very kind and gentle still, and the smile that always greeted him was very bright and sweet, but that heavenly past was gone forever. Doctor Frank, about as clear-sighted as his s.e.x generally are, of course never guessed within a mile of the truth.

"What a fool I was!" he thought, bitterly, "flattering myself with such insane dreams, because she was grateful to me for saving her sister's life, and pitied me when she thought I was at death's door. Why, she nursed every sick pauper in St. Croix as tenderly as she did me. She is right to put me back in my place before I have made an idiot of myself!"

So the convalescent gentleman became moody, and silent and generally disagreeable; and Grace was the only one who guessed at his feelings and was sorry for him. But he grew well in spite of hidden trouble, and began to think of what he was to do in the future.

"I'll go back to Montreal next week, I think," he said to his sister; "now that the fever has gone, it won't pay to stay here. If I don't get on in Montreal, I'll try New York."

Man proposes, etc. That evening's mail brought him a letter that materially altered all his plans. He sat so long silent and thoughtful after reading it, that Grace looked at him in surprise.

"You look as grave as an owl, Frank. Whom is your letter from?"

Doctor Frank started out of his reverie to find Kate's eyes fixed inquiringly upon him too.

"From Messrs. Grayson & Hambert, my uncle's solicitors. He is dead."

Grace uttered a little cry.

"Dead! Frank! And you are his heir?"

"Yes."

"How much has he left?" Mrs. Danton asked, breathlessly.

"Twenty thousand pounds."

Grace clasped her hands.

"Twenty thousand pounds? My dear Frank! You have no need to go slaving at your profession now."

Her brother looked at her in quiet surprise.

"I shall slave at my profession all the same. This windfall will, however, alter my plans a good deal. I must start for Montreal to-morrow morning."

He rose and left the room. Grace turned to her step-daughter.

"I am afraid you must think us heartless, Kate; but we have known very little of this uncle, and that little was not favourable. He was a miser--a stern and hard man--living always alone and with few friends. I am so thankful he left his money to Frank."

Doctor Frank left St. Croix next morning for the city, and his absence made a strange blank in the family. The spring days wore on slowly.

April was gone, and it was May. Captain Danton was absent the best part of every day, superintending the erection of the new house, and the three women were left alone. Miss Danton grew listless and languid. She spent her days in purposeless loiterings in and out of the cottage, in long reveries and solitary walks.

The middle of May came without bringing the young Doctor, or even a letter from him. The family were seated one moonlight night in the large, old-fashioned porch in front of the cottage, enjoying the moonlight and Eeny's piano. Kate sat in a rustic arm-chair just outside, looking up at the silvery crescent swimming through pearly clouds, and the flickering shadows of the climbing sweetbrier coming and going on her fair face. Captain Danton smoked and Grace talked to him; and while she sat, Father Francis opened the garden gate and joined them.

"Have you heard from your brother yet?" he asked of Grace, after a few moments' preliminary conversation.

"No; it is rather strange that he does not write."

"He told me to make his apologies. I had a letter from him to-day. He is very busy preparing to go away."

"Go away! Go where?"

"To Germany; he leaves in a week."

"And will he not come down to say good-bye?" inquired Grace, indignantly.

"Oh, certainly! He will be here in a day or two."

"And how long is he going to stay abroad?"

"That seems uncertain. A year or two, probably, at the very least."

Grace stole a look at Kate, but Kate had drawn back into the shadow of the porch, and her face was not to be seen. Father Francis lingered for half an hour, and then departed; and as the dew was falling heavily, the group in the porch arose to go in. The young lady in the easy-chair did not stir.

"Come in, Kate," her father said, "it is too damp to remain there."

"Yes, papa, presently."

About a quarter of an hour later, she entered the parlour to say good-night, very pale, as they all noticed.

"I knew sitting in the night air was bad," her father said. "You are as white as a ghost."

Miss Danton was very grave and still for the next two days--a little sad, Grace thought. On the third day, Doctor Frank arrived. It was late in the afternoon, and he was to depart again early next morning.

"What are you running away for now?" asked his sister, with asperity.

"What has put this German notion in your head?"

The young man smiled.

"My dear Grace, don't wear that severe face. Why should I not go? What is to detain me here?"

This was such an unanswerable question that Grace only turned away impatiently; and Kate, who was in the room, fancying the brother and sister might wish to be alone, arose and departed. As the door closed after her, Captain Danton's wife faced round and renewed the attack.

"If you want to know what is to detain you here, I can tell you now.

Stay at home and marry Kate Danton."

Her brother laughed, but in rather a constrained way.

"That is easier said than done, sister mine. Miss Danton never did more than tolerate me in her life--sometimes not even that. Impossibilities are not so easily achieved as you think."

"Suppose you try."

"And be refused for my pains. No, thank you."

"Very well," said Mrs. Grace with a shrug; "a wilful man must have his way! You cannot tell whether you will be refused or not until you ask."

"I have a tolerably strong conviction, though. No, Mrs. Grace, I shall go to Germany, and forget my folly; for that I have been an idiot, I don't deny."