When Kate came back from her ride, Rose informed her of her father's proposal with sparkling eyes. Kate listened quietly, and made no objection; neither did Grace; and so the matter was decided.
Rose had no time to be lonely after that. Her father gave her carte blanche in the matter of dress and ornament, and Miss Rose's earthly happiness was complete. She, and Kate, and Grace went to Montreal to make the necessary purchases, to lasso dressmakers and fetch them back to St. Croix.
"I know a young woman I think will suit you," said Ma'am Ledru, the cook. "She is an excellent dressmaker and embroideress; very poor, and quite willing, I am sure, to go into the country. Her name is Agnes Darling, and she lives in the Petite Rue de Saint Jacques."
Rose hastened to the Petite Rue de Saint Jacques at once, and in a small room of a tenement house found the seamstress; a little pale, dark-eyed, dark-haired creature, with a face that was a history of trouble, though her years could not have numbered twenty. There was no difficulty in engaging her: she promised to be ready to return with them to St. Croix the following morning.
They only spent two days in the city, and were, of course, very busy all the time. Grace took a few moments to try and find her brother, but failed. He was not to be heard of at his customary address; he had been talking of quitting Montreal, they told her there; probably he had done so.
The Dantons, with the pale little dressmaker, returned next day, all necessaries provided. The business of the house-warming commenced at once. Danton Hall—ever spotless under the reign of Grace—was rubbed up and scrubbed down from garret to cellar. Invitations were sent out far and wide. Agnes Darling's needle flew from early dawn till late at night; and Grace and the cook, absorbed in cake and jelly-making, were invisible all day long in the lower regions. Eeny and Rose went heart and soul into the delightful fuss, all new to them, but Kate took little interest in it. She was Sir Ronald's very good friend still, and, like Mrs. Micawber, never deserted him. Captain Danton hid his diminished head in his study, in Mr. Richard's rooms, or took refuge with the Curé from the hubbub.
The eventful night at last came round, clear, cold, and near Christmas. The old ball-room of Danton Hall, disused so long, had been refitted, waxed, and decorated; the long drawing-room was resplendent; the supper table set in the dining-room was dazzling to look at, with silver, Sèvres, and glittering glass; the dressing-rooms were in a state of perfection; the servants all en grande tenue; and Danton Hall one blaze of light. In the bedroom regions the mysteries of the toilet had been going on for hours. Eunice was busy with her mistress; Agnes the seamstress was playing femme de chambre to Rose. Grace dressed herself in twenty minutes, and then dressed Eeny, who only wore pink muslin and a necklace of pearls, and looked fairy-like and fragile as ever. Grace, in gray silk, with an emerald brooch, and her brown hair simply worn as she always wore it, looked lady-like and unassuming.
The guests came by the evening train from Montreal, and the carriages of the nearer neighbours began coming in rapid succession. Kate stood by her cordial father's side, receiving their guests. So tall, so stately, so exquisitely dressed—all the golden hair twisted in thick coils around her regal head, and one diamond star flashing in its amber glitter. Lovely with that flush on the delicate cheeks, that streaming light in the blue eyes.
Rose was eclipsed. Rose looking her best, and very pretty, but nothing beside her queenly sister. But Rose was very brilliant, flitting hither and thither, dancing incessantly, and turning whiskered heads in all directions. They could fall in love with pretty, coquettish Rose, those very young gentlemen, who could only look at Kate from a respectful distance in speechless admiration and awe. Rose was of their kind, and they could talk to her; so Rose was the belle of the night, after all.
Sir Ronald Keith and two or three officers from Montreal, with side whiskers, a long pedigree, and a first-rate opinion of themselves, were the only gentlemen who had the temerity to approach the goddess of the ball—oh! excepting the Reverend Augustus Clare, who, in his intense admiration, was almost tongue-tied, and Doctor Danton, who, to the surprise of every one except the master of the Hall, walked in, the last guest of all.