"I wonder if conscientious physicians find the duty more binding in the case of young and pretty patients than in that of old and ugly ones?"
"No," said Doctor Frank, impressively. "To professional eyes, the suffering fellow-creature is a suffering fellow-creature, and nothing more. Think better of us, my dear girl; think better of me."
After dinner, in the drawing-room, Captain Danton, with Grace for a partner, the Doctor with Eeny, sat down to a game of cards. Kate sat at the piano, singing a fly-away duet with Miss Howard. Mr. Howard stood at Miss Danton's right elbow devotedly turning the music; and in a little cozy velvet sofa, just big enough for two, Reginald and Rose were tête-à-tête.
In the changed days that came after, Doctor Frank remembered that picture—the exquisite face at the piano, the slender and stately form, the handsome man, and the pretty coquette on the sofa. The song sung that night brought the tableau as vividly before him years and years after, as when he saw it then.
The song was ended. Miss Danton's ringed white fingers were flying over the keys in a brilliant waltz. George Howard and Rose were floating round and round, in air, as it seemed, and Stanford was watching with half-closed eyes. And in the midst of all, above the ringing music and the sighing of the wild wind, there came the clanging of sleigh-bells and a loud ring at the house-door. Rose and George Howard ceased their waltz. Kate's flying fingers stopped. The card-party looked up inquisitively.
"Who can it be," said the Captain, "'who knocks so loud, and knocks so late,' this stormy night?"
The servant who threw open the drawing-room door answered him. "M. La Touche," announced Babette, and vanished.
There was a little cry of astonishment from Rose; an instant's irresolute pause. Captain Danton arose. The name was familiar to him from his daughter. But Rose had recovered herself before he could advance, and came forward, her pretty face flushed.
"Where on earth did you drop from?" she asked, composedly shaking hands with him. "Did you snow down from Ottawa?"
"No," said M. La Touche. "I've snowed down from Laprairie. I came from Montreal in this evening's train, and drove up here, in spite of wind and weather."