The girl went out, and Kate sank back in her chair, her blue eyes, tender and dreamy, still fixed on the fire. Drifting into dream-land, she lay twisting her flashing diamond round and round on her finger, and heedless of the passing moments. The loud ringing of the dinner-bell aroused her, and she arose with a little sigh from her pleasant reverie, shook out her lace flounces, and tripped away down stairs.
They were all in the dining-room when she entered—papa, Eeny, Grace and strangers—Doctor Danton and a clerical-looking young man, with a pale scholarly face and penetrating eyes, and who was presented as Father Francis.
"The Curé couldn't come," said the Captain. "A sick call. Very sorry. Capital company, the Curé. Why can't people take sick at reasonable hours, Father Francis?"
"Ask Doctor Danton," said Father Francis. "I am not a physician—of the bodies of men."
"Don't ask me anything while the first course is in progress," said the Doctor. "You ought to know better. I trust you have quite recovered from your recent fright, Miss Danton."
"A Danton frightened!" exclaimed her father. "The daughter of all the Dantons that ever fought and fell, turn coward! Kate, deny the charge!"
"Miss Danton is no coward," said the Doctor. "She gave battle like a heroine."
Kate blushed vividly.
"As you are strong, be merciful," she said. "I own to being so thoroughly frightened that I shall never go there alone again. I hope, my preserver, Herr Tiger, is well."
"Quite well. Had he known I was coming here, he would doubtless have sent his regards."