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."