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KATE DANTON;
OR
CAPTAIN DANTON'S DAUGHTERS
_A Novel_
BY MAY AGNES FLEMING,
AUTHOR OF "NORINE'S REVENGE," "GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE," "A WONDERFUL
WOMAN," "A TERRIBLE SECRET," "A MAD MARRIAGE," "ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY,"
ETC.
TORONTO:
_BELFORD BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS._
MDCCCLXXVII.
Printed and Stereotyped by
The Globe Printing Company,
26 & 28 King Street East,
Toronto.
Bound by
Hunter, Rose & Co.
Toronto.
"----A woman's will dies hard,
In the field, or on the sward."
"There were three little women
Each fair in the face,
And their laughter with music
Filled all the green place;
As they wove pleasant thoughts
With the threads of their lace.
Of the wind in the tree tops
The flowers in the glen,
Of the birds--the brown robin,
The wood dove, the wren,
They talked--but their thoughts
Were of three little men!"
CONTENTS.
I.--Grace Danton
II.--Kate Danton
III.--A Change of Dynasty
IV.--Rose Danton
V.--Seeing a Ghost
VI.--Rose's Adventure
VII.--Hon. Lieutenant Reginald Stanford
VIII.--The Ghost Again
IX.--A Game for Two to Play at
X.--The Revelation
XI.--One Mystery Cleared Up
XII.--Harry Danton
XIII.--Love-making
XIV.--Trying to be True
XV.--One of Earth's Angels
XVI.--Epistolary
XVII.--"She Took Up the Burden of Life Again."
XVIII.--"It's an Ill Wind Blows Nobody Good"
XIX.--Via Crucis
XX.--Bearing the Cross
XXI.--Dr. Danton's Good Works
XXII.--After the Cross, the Crown
XXIII.--"Long have I been True to You, now I'm True no Longer"
XXIV.--Coals of Fire
XXV.--At Home
KATE DANTON.
CHAPTER I.
GRACE DANTON.
A low room, oblong in shape, three high narrow windows admitting the
light through small, old-fashioned panes. Just at present there was not
much to admit, for it was raining hard, and the afternoon was wearing on
to dusk; but even the wet half-light showed you solid mahogany
furniture, old-fashioned as the windows themselves, black and shining
with age and polish; a carpet soft and thick, but its once rich hues dim
and faded; oil paintings of taste and merit, some of them portraits, on
the papered walls, the red glow of a large coal fire glinting pleasantly
on their broad gilded frames.
At one of the windows, looking out at the ceaseless rain, a young lady
sat--a young lady, tall, rather stout than slender, and not pretty. Her
complexion was too sallow; her features too irregular; her dark hair too
scant, and dry and thin at the parting; but her eyes were fine, large,
brown and clear; her manner, self-possessed and lady-like. She was very
simply but very tastefully dressed, and looked every day of her
age--twenty six.
The rainy afternoon was deepening into dismal twilight; and with her
cheek resting on her hand, the young lady sat with a thoughtful face.
A long avenue, shaded by towering tamaracks, led down to stately
entrance-gates; beyond, a winding road, leading to a village, not to be
seen from the window. Swelling meadows, bare and bleak now, spread away
to the right and left of the thickly-wooded grounds; and beyond all,
through the trees, there were glimpses of the great St. Lawrence, turbid
and swollen, rushing down to the stormy Gulf.
For nearly half an hour the young lady sat by the window, her solitude
undisturbed; no sign of life within or without the silent house. Then
came the gallop of horse's hoofs, and a lad rode up the avenue and
disappeared round the angle of the building.
Ten minutes after there was a tap at the door, followed by the entrance
of a servant, with a dark Canadian face.
"A letter, Miss Grace," said the girl, in French.
"Bring in some more coal, Babette," said Miss Grace, also in French,
taking the letter. "Where is Miss Eeny?"
"Practising in the parlour, Ma'moiselle."
"Very well. Bring in the coal."
Babette disappeared, and the young lady opened her letter. It was very
short.
"Montreal, November, 5, 18--.
"My Dear Grace--Kate arrived in this city a week ago, and
I have remained here since to show her the sights, and let her
recruit after her voyage. Ogden tells me the house is quite ready
for us, so you may expect us almost as soon as you receive this. We
will be down by the 7th, for certain. Ogden says that Rose is
absent. Write to her to return.
"Yours sincerely,
Henry Danton."
"P. S.--Did Ogden tell you we were to have a visitor--an invalid
gentleman--a Mr. Richards? Have the suite of rooms on the west side
prepared for him. H. D."
The young lady refolded her note thoughtfully, and walking to the fire,
stood looking with grave eyes into the glowing coals.
"So soon," she thought; "so soon; everything to be changed. What is
Captain Danton's eldest daughter like, I wonder? What is the Captain
like himself, and who can this invalid, Mr. Richards, be? I don't like
change."
Babette came in with the coal, and Miss Grace roused herself from her
reverie.
"Babette, tell Ledru to have dinner at seven. I think your master and
his daughter will be here to-night."
"Mon Dieu, Mademoiselle! The young lady from England?"
"Yes; and see that there are fires in all the rooms upstairs."
"Yes, Miss Grace."
"Is Miss Eeny still in the parlour?"
"Yes, Miss Grace."
Miss Grace walked out of the dining-room, along a carved and pictured
corridor, up a broad flight of shining oaken stairs, and tapped at the
first door.
"Come in, Grace," called a pleasant voice, and Grace went in.
It was a much more elegant apartment than the dining-room, with flowers,
and books, and birds, and pictures, and an open piano with music
scattered about.
Half buried in a great carved and gilded chair, lay the only occupant of
the room--a youthful angel of fifteen, fragile in form, fair and
delicate of face, with light hair and blue eyes. A novel lying open in
her lap showed what her occupation had been.
"I thought you were practising your music, Eeny," said Grace.
"So I was, until I got tired. But what's that you've got? A letter?"
Grace put it in her hand.
"From papa!" cried the girl, vividly interested at once. "Oh, Grace!
Kate has come!"
"Yes."
The young lady laid down the letter and looked at her.
"How oddly you said that! Are you sorry?"
"Sorry! Oh, no."
"You looked as if you were. How strange it seems to think that this
sister of mine, of whom I have heard so much and have never seen, should
be coming here for good! And papa--he is almost a stranger, too, Grace.
I suppose everything will be very different now."
"Very, very different," Grace said, with her quiet eyes fixed on the
fire. "The old life will soon be a thing of the past. And we have been
very happy here; have we not, Eeny?"
"Very happy," answered Eeny; "and will be still, I hope. Papa and Kate,
and Mr. Richards--I wonder who Mr. Richards is?--shall not make us
miserable."
"I suppose, Eeny," said Grace, "I shall be quite forgotten when this
handsome Sister Kate comes. She ought to be very handsome."
She looked up at an oval picture about the marble mantel, in a rich
frame--the photograph of a lovely girl about Eeny's age. The bright
young face looked at you with a radiant smile, the exuberant golden hair
fell in sunlight ripples over the plump white shoulders, and the blue
eyes and rosebud lips smiled on you together. A lovely face, full of the
serene promise of yet greater loveliness to come. Eeny's eyes followed
those of Grace.
"You know better than that, Cousin Grace. Miss Kate Danton may be an
angel incarnate, but she can never drive you quite out of my heart.
Grace, how old is Kate?"
"Twenty years old."
"And Harry was three years older?"
"Yes."
"Grace, I wonder who Mr. Richards is?"
"So do I."
"Did Ogden say nothing about him?"
"Not a word."
"Will you write to Rose?"
"I shall not have time. I wish you would write, Eeny. That is what I
came here to ask you to do."
"Certainly, with pleasure," said Eeny. "Rose will wait for no second
invitation when she hears who have come. Will they arrive this evening?"
"Probably. They may come at any moment. And here I am lingering. Write
the note at once, Eeny, and send Sam back to the village with it."
She left the parlour and went down stairs, looking into the dining-room
as she passed. Babette was setting the table already, and silver and
cut-glass sparkled in the light of the ruby flame. Grace went on, up
another staircase, hurrying from room to room, seeing that all things
were in perfect order. Fires burned in each apartment, lamps stood on
the tables ready to be lit, for neither furnace nor gas was to be found
here. The west suite of rooms spoken of in the letter were the last
visited. A long corridor, lit by an oriel window, through which the
rainy twilight stole eerily enough, led to a baize door. The baize door
opened into a shorter corridor, terminated by a second door, the upper
half of glass. This was the door of a study, simply furnished, the walls
lined with book-shelves, surmounted by busts. Adjoining was a bathroom,
adjoining that a bedroom. Fires burned in all, and the curtained windows
commanded a wide western prospect of flower-garden, waving trees,
spreading fields, and the great St. Lawrence melting into the low
western sky.
"Mr. Richards ought to be very comfortable here," thought Grace. "It is
rather strange Ogden did not speak of him."
She went down stairs again and back to the dining-room. Eeny was there,
standing before the fire, her light shape and delicate face looking
fragile in the red fire-light.
"Oh, Grace," said she, "I have just sent Babette in search of you. There
is a visitor in the parlour for you."
"For me?"
"Yes, a gentleman; young, and rather handsome. I asked him who I should
say wished to see you, and--what do you think?--he would not tell."
"No! What did he say?"
"Told me to mention to Miss Grace Danton that a friend wished to see
her. Mysterious, is it not?"
"Who can it be?" said Grace, thoughtfully. "What does this mysterious
gentleman look like, Eeny?"
"Very tall," said Eeny, "and very stately, with brown hair, and beard
and mustache--a splendid mustache, Grace! and beautiful, bright brown
eyes, something like yours. Very good-looking, very polite, and with the
smile of an angel. There you have him."
"I am as much at a loss as ever," said Grace, leaving the dining-room.
"This is destined to be an evening of arrivals I think."
She ran upstairs for the second time, and opened the parlour door. A
gentleman before the fire, in the seat Eeny had vacated, arose at her
entrance. Grace stood still an instant, doubt, amaze, delight,
alternately in her face; then with a cry of "Frank!" she sprang forward,
and was caught in the tall stranger's arms.
"I thought you would recognize me in spite of the whiskers," said the
stranger. "Here, stand off and let me look at you; let me see the
changes six years have wrought in my sister Grace."
He held her out at arm's length, and surveyed her smilingly.
"A little older--a little graver, but otherwise the same. My solemn
Gracie, you will look like your own grandmother at thirty."
"Well, I feel as if I had lived a century or two now. When did you
come?"
"From Germany, last week; from Montreal at noon."
"You have been a week in Montreal then?"
"With Uncle Roosevelt--yes."
"How good it seems to see you again, Frank. How long will you stay
here--in St. Croix?"
"That depends--until I get tired, I suppose. So Captain Danton and his
eldest daughter are here from England?"
"How did you learn that?"
"Saw their arrival in Montreal duly chronicled."
"What is she like, Grace?"
"Who?"
"Miss Kate Danton."
"I don't know. I expect them every moment; I should think they came by
the same train you did."
"Perhaps so--I rode second-class. I got talking to an old Canadian, and
found him such a capital old fellow, that I kept beside him all the way.
By-the-by, Grace, you've got into very comfortable quarters, haven't
you?"
"Yes, Danton Hall is a very fine place."
"How long is it you have been here?"
"Four years."
"And how often has the Captain been in that time?"
"Twice; but he has given up the sea now, and is going to settle down."
"I thought his eldest daughter was a fixture in England?"
"So did I," said Grace; "but the grandmother with whom she lived has
died, it appears; consequently, she comes to her natural home for the
first time. That is her picture."
Miss Danton's brother raised his handsome brown eyes to the exquisite
face, and took a long survey.
"She ought to be a beauty if she looks like that. Belle blonde, and I
admire blondes so much! do you know, Grace, I think I shall fall in love
with her?"
"Don't. It will be of no use."
"Why not? I am a Danton--a gentleman--a member of the learned profession
of medicine and not so bad-looking. Why not, Grace?"
He rose up as he said it, his brown eyes smiling. Not so bad-looking,
certainly. A fine-looking fellow, as he leaned against the marble
mantel, bronzed and bearded, and a thorough gentleman.
"It is all of no use," Grace said, with an answering smile. "Doctor
Danton's numberless perfections will be quite lost on the heiress of
Danton Hall. She is engaged."
"What a pity! Who is the lucky man?"
"Hon. Lieutenant Reginald Stanford, of Stanford Royals, Northumberland,
England, youngest son of Lord Reeves."
"Then mine is indeed a forlorn hope! What chance has an aspiring young
doctor against the son of a lord."
"You would have no chance in any case," said Grace, with sudden
seriousness. "I once asked her father which his eldest daughter most
resembled, Rose or Eeny. 'Like neither,' was his reply. 'My daughter
Kate is beautiful, and stately, and proud as a queen.' I shall never
forget his own proud smile as he said it."
"You infer that Miss Danton, if free, would be too proud to mate with a
mere plebeian professional man."
"Yes."
"Then resignation is all that remains. Is it improper to smoke in this
sacred chamber, Grace? I must have something to console me. Quite a
grand alliance for Danton's daughter, is it not?"
"They do not seem to think so. I heard her father say he would not
consider a prince of the blood-royal too good for his peerless Kate."
"The duse he wouldn't! What an uplifted old fellow he must be!"
"Captain Danton is not old. His age is about forty-five, and he does not
look forty."
"Then I'll tell you what to do, Grace--marry him!"
"Frank, don't be absurd! Do you know you will have everything in this
room smelling of tobacco for a week. I can't permit it, sir."
"Well, I'll be off," said her brother, looking at his watch, "I promised
to return in half an hour for supper."
"Promised whom?"
"M. le Curé. Oh, you don't know I am stopping at the presbytery. I
happened to meet the curate, Father Francis, in Montreal--we were
school-boys together--and he was about the wildest, most mischievous
fellow I ever met. We were immense friends--a fellow-feeling, you know,
makes us wondrous kind. Judge of my amazement on meeting him on Notre
Dame street, in soutane and broad-brimmed hat, and finding he had taken
to Mother Church. You might have knocked me down with a feather, I
assure you. Mutual confidences followed; and when he learned I was
coming to St. Croix, he told me that I must pitch my tent with him.
Capital quarters it is, too; and M. le Curé is the soul of hospitality.
Will you give me a glass of wine after that long speech, and to fortify
me for my homeward route?"
Grace rang and ordered wine. Doctor Danton drank his glass standing, and
then drew on his gloves.
"Have you to walk?" asked his sister. "I will order the buggy for you."
"By no means. I rode up here on the Curé's nag, and came at the rate of
a funeral. The old beast seemed to enjoy himself, and to rather like
getting soaked through, and I have no doubt will return as he came. And
now I must go; it would never do to be found here by these grand
people--Captain and Miss Danton."
His wet overcoat hung on a chair; he put it on while walking to the
door, with Grace by his side.
"When shall I see you again, Frank?"
"To-morrow. I want to have a look at our English beauty. By Jove! it
knows how to rain in Canada."
The cold November blast swept in as Grace opened the front door, and the
rain fell in a downpour. In the black darkness Grace could just discern
a white horse fastened to a tree.
"That is ominous, Grace," said her brother. "Captain Danton and his
daughter come heralded by wind and tempest. Take care it is not
prophetic of domestic squalls."
He ran down the steps, but was back again directly.
"Who was that pale, blue-eyed fairy I met when I entered?"
"Eveleen Danton."
"Give her my best regards--Doctor Frank's. She will be rather pretty, I
think; and if Miss Kate snubs me, perhaps I shall fall back on Miss
Eveleen. It seems to me I should like to get into so great a family.
Once more, _bon soir_, sister mine, and pleasant dreams."
He was gone this time for good. His sister stood in the doorway, and
watched the white horse and its tall, dark rider vanish under the
tossing trees.