"Wait one moment," he said; "I have a toast to propose before you go. Fill your glasses and drink long life and prosperity to Mr. and Mrs. Jules La Touche."
Every one but Grace was electrified, and Rose fairly ran out of the room. M. La Touche made a modest little speech of thanks, and then Mr. Stanford held the door open for the ladies to pass.
Rose was not in the drawing-room when they entered, and Kate ran up to her room; but the door was locked, and Rose would not let her in.
"Go away, Kate," she said, almost passionately. "Go away and leave me alone."
Rose kept her chamber all the evening, to the amazement of the rest. The young Canadian was the lion of the hour, and bore his honours with that retiring modesty which so characterized him, and which made him such a contrast to the brilliant and self-conscious Mr. Stanford.
Rose descended to the breakfast next morning looking shy and queer. Before the meal was over, however, the bashfulness, quite foreign to her usual character, wore pretty well away, and she agreed to join a sleighing-party over to Richelieu, a neighbouring village.
They were six in all—Kate and Mr. Stanford, Rose and Mr. La Touche, Eeny and Doctor Frank. Sir Ronald Keith had departed some time previously, for a tour through the country with Lord Ellerton, and his memory was a thing of the past already.
The Captain, an hour after their departure, sought out Grace in the dining-room, where she sat at work. He looked grave and anxious, and, sitting down beside her, said what he had to say with many misgivings.
"I am double her age," he thought. "I have a son old enough to be her husband; how can I hope?"
But for all that he talked, and Grace listened, her sewing lying idly in her lap; one hand shading her face, the other held in his. He talked long and earnestly, and she listened, silent and with shaded face.