But Mrs. Frederic did not seem at ease; there was a restlessness about her, a disinclination to leave the house, that attracted Katherine’s notice, although she was much occupied with preparations for their departure.  At last the mystery was solved.

One afternoon Mrs. Liddell and Katherine had been a good deal later than usual in returning home, having determined to finish their shopping and take a few days’ complete rest before starting on their travels.

Mrs. Frederic met them with a heightened color and a curious embarrassed look.  The drawing room was lit by a splendid fire, and sweet with the perfume of abundant hot-house flowers; there was something vaguely prophetic in the air.

“Do come to the fire, dear Mrs. Liddell; you must be so cold!  I have been quite uneasy about you,” she exclaimed, effusively.

“Have you had a visitor, Ada?” asked Katherine, whose suspicions were aroused.

“I have, and I want to tell you all about it.  I am far too candid to keep anything from those I love.  My visitor was Colonel Ormonde.  He asked me to marry him, and—­and, dear Mrs. Liddell—­Katherine—­I hope you will not be offended, but I—­I said I would,” burst forth Mrs. Frederic; and then she burst into tears.

There was a minute’s silence.  Katherine flushed crimson, and did not speak, but Mrs. Liddell said, kindly:  “My dear Ada, if you think Colonel Ormonde will make you happy and be kind to the boys, you are quite right.  I never expected a young creature like you to live alone for the rest of your existence, and I believe Colonel Ormonde is a man of character and position.”

“He is indeed,” cried Ada, falling on her mother-in-law’s neck.  “You are the wisest, kindest woman in the world.  And you, Katherine?”

“I do hope you will be very, very happy,” responded Katherine; “but I must say I think he is rather too old for you.  That, however, is your affair.”

“Yes, of course it is”—­leaving Mrs. Liddell to hug Katherine.  “I am quite fond of him; that is, I esteem and like him.  Of course I shall never love any one as I did my dear darling Fred; but I do want some one to help me with the boys, and Marmaduke (that’s his name) is quite fond of them.  So now, dear Mrs. Liddell, I will stay on here till—­till I am married, if you don’t mind.”

“It is the best thing you can do, Ada.  I wish we could stay and be present at your marriage.”

“But that is impossible,” cried Katherine.

“And not at all necessary,” added Mrs. Frederic, hastily.  “My friend Mrs. Burnett will help me in every way, and I have been trouble enough already.”

“I do not think so,” said Mrs. Liddell, quietly.  “But I am very weary.  I will go to my room.  Katie dear, bring me some tea presently.”

And the widow escaped to rest, perhaps to weep over the bright boy so dear to her, so soon forgotten by the wife of his bosom.