Captain Danton came forward; and Rose, still a little confused, presented M. La Touche. The cordial Captain shook with his usual heartiness the proffered hand of the young man, bade him welcome, and put an instant veto on his leaving them that night.
"There are plenty of bedrooms here, and it is not a night to turn an enemy's dog from the door. My cousin, Miss Grace Danton, M. La Touche; my daughter, Eveleen; and Doctor Frank Danton."
M. La Touche bowed with native grace to these off-hand introductions, and then was led off by Rose to the piano-corner, to be duly presented there. She had not made up her mind yet whether she were vexed or pleased to see her lover. Whatever little affection she had ever given him—and it must have been of the flimsiest from the first—had evaporated long ago, like smoke. But Rose had no idea of pining in maiden solitude, even if she lost the fascinating Reginald, and she knew that homely old saw about coming to the ground between two stools.
M. La Touche had the good fortune to produce a pleasing impression upon all to whom he was introduced. He was very good-looking, with dark Canadian eyes and hair, and olive skin. He was rather small and slight, and his large dark eyes were dreamy, and his smile as gentle as a girl's.
Mr. Stanford, resigned his place on the sofa to M. La Touche, and Rose and the young Canadian were soon chattering busily in French.
"Why did you not write and tell me you were coming?"
"Because I did not know I was coming. Rose, I am the luckiest fellow alive!"
His dark eyes sparkled; his olive face flushed. Rose looked at him wonderingly.
"How?"
"I have had a fortune left me. I am a rich man, and I have come here to tell you, my darling Rose."