"I shall slave at my profession all the same. This windfall will, however, alter my plans a good deal. I must start for Montreal to-morrow morning."
He rose and left the room. Grace turned to her step-daughter.
"I am afraid you must think us heartless, Kate; but we have known very little of this uncle, and that little was not favourable. He was a miser—a stern and hard man—living always alone and with few friends. I am so thankful he left his money to Frank."
Doctor Frank left St. Croix next morning for the city, and his absence made a strange blank in the family. The spring days wore on slowly. April was gone, and it was May. Captain Danton was absent the best part of every day, superintending the erection of the new house, and the three women were left alone. Miss Danton grew listless and languid. She spent her days in purposeless loiterings in and out of the cottage, in long reveries and solitary walks.
The middle of May came without bringing the young Doctor, or even a letter from him. The family were seated one moonlight night in the large, old-fashioned porch in front of the cottage, enjoying the moonlight and Eeny's piano. Kate sat in a rustic arm-chair just outside, looking up at the silvery crescent swimming through pearly clouds, and the flickering shadows of the climbing sweetbrier coming and going on her fair face. Captain Danton smoked and Grace talked to him; and while she sat, Father Francis opened the garden gate and joined them.
"Have you heard from your brother yet?" he asked of Grace, after a few moments' preliminary conversation.
"No; it is rather strange that he does not write."
"He told me to make his apologies. I had a letter from him to-day. He is very busy preparing to go away."
"Go away! Go where?"
"To Germany; he leaves in a week."