"We got up betimes to see you off," said the Captain. "A delightful morning for your journey. There is Sam with the gig now. Look sharp, Reginald; only fifteen minutes left."
Reginald snatched up his overcoat.
"Good-bye," he said, hurriedly shaking hands with the Captain, then with Grace. Kate, standing by the window, never turned round. He went up to her, very, very pale, as they all remembered afterward, holding out his hand.
"Good-bye, Kate."
The hand she gave him was icy cold, her face perfectly colourless. The cold fingers lingered around his for a moment; the deep, clear, violet eyes were fixed wistfully on his face. That was her only good-bye—she did not speak. In another moment he was out of the house; in another he was riding rapidly down the avenue; in another he was gone—and forever.
CHAPTER XVI.
EPISTOLARY.
[From Madame Leblanc to Captain Danton.]
Quebec, May 17, 18—.