Rose submitted to be kissed with a good grace, but with a little envious pang at her vain, coquettish heart, to see how much more beautiful her superb sister was than herself. She nestled luxuriously in an arm-chair, while Eunice dressed her young mistress, chattering away in French like a magpie. They descended together to luncheon; pale Eeny was totally eclipsed by brilliant Rose, and all the afternoon they spent together over the piano, and sauntering through the grounds.
"Retribution, Eeny," said Grace, kissing Eeny's pale cheek. "You forgot me for this dazzling Kate, and now you are nowhere. You must come back to Grace again."
"There is nobody like Grace," said Eeny, nestling close. "But Kate and Rose won't be always like this. 'Love me little, love me long.' Wait until Kate finds out what Rose is made of."
But despite Eeny's prophecy, the two sisters got on remarkably well together.
Captain Danton did not return next day, according to promise, so they were thrown entirely upon one another. Instead, there came a note from Montreal, which told them that business would detain him in that city for nearly a fortnight longer. "When I do return," ended the note, "I will fetch an old friend to see Kate."
"Who can it be?" wondered Kate. "There is no old friend of mine that I am aware of in Montreal. Papa likes to be mysterious."
"Yes," said Rose; "I should think so, when we have a mystery in the very house."
"What mystery?"
"Mr. Richards, of course. He's a mystery worse than anything in the 'Mysteries of Udolpho.' Why can nobody get to see him but that soft-stepping, oily-tongued little weasel, Ogden?"
Kate looked at the pretty sister she loved so well, with the coldest glances she had ever given her.