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Updated: June 15, 2025
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.
"Then Miss Eeny's jacket must wait, for I want my new silk made for Thursday evening. Come up to my room, and get to work at once." Agnes rose obediently. Rose led the way, her mind straying back to the scene in the sewing-room her entrance had disturbed. "Look here, Miss Darling," she broke out; "you must have known Doctor Danton before. Now you needn't deny it. Your very face proves you guilty.
Don't you know that she is a sorceress, and throws a glamour over all she meets? She's uncanny, I give you warning a witch; that's the word for it!" Eeny's reply was to lift Kate's hand and kiss it. "Do witches ever eat, papa?" laughed Miss Danton; "because I am very hungry. What time do we dine?" "What time, Miss Grace?" asked the Captain. "Immediately, if you wish, sir."
Doctor Danton seated herself in a low chair, with Reginald Stanford's first-born in her lap, and began recapitulating as much of the past as was necessary to enlighten Mrs. Stanford. "So he saved Eeny's life; and you nursed him, and fell in love with him, and married him, and his old uncle dies and leaves him a fortune in the nick of time.
But the merry New Year time came round at last; and all the Dantons were together once more in Eeny's splendid home. It made Rose's heart ache with envy to walk through those lovely rooms long vistas of splendour and gorgeousness. "It might have been mine! It might have been mine!" that rebellious heart of hers kept crying out.
It is not so sumptuous, of course, as at Ottawa, in the rising young Doctor's home; but she is not galled every moment of the day by the poignant regrets that lacerate her heart at Eeny's. She hears of her husband occasionally, as he wanders through the Continent, and the chain that binds her to him galls her day and night.
Danton's own chair; into Kate's fairy boudoir, all fluted satin and brocatelle; into her bed-chamber, where everything was white, and azure, and spotless as herself; into Eeny's room, pretty and tasteful, but not so superb; into Rose's, very disordered, and littered, and characteristic; into papa's, big, carpetless, fireless, dreadfully grim and unlike papa himself; into Grace's, the perfection of order and taste, and then Eeny stopped, out of breath.
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