“Come here to live?  She would sooner spring into the jaws of hell!”

Prince Darrington’s large light eyes opened wide, in a questioning stare.

“If she is innocent, as you believe, why should she shrink from occupying the family homestead?  If she be guilty, which I (having seen her) cannot credit, there is no probability that remorseful scruples would influence her.  No conceivable contingency can ever again make it my home, and on Thursday I go away forever.”

“That which a man claims and expects, generally deserts and betrays him; it is the unforeseen, the unexpected that comes in the form of benediction.  Time is the master magician, and ’Tout went a qui sait attendre’.  Kittie may yet trail her velvet robe as chatelaine through these noble old halls and galleries.  Come to my office at ten o’clock tomorrow; I may have an answer to my letter to Doctor Balfour.”

Six months before, Mr. Dunbar had walked down these steps, mounted his horse and hurried away to keep tryst with the fair, noble woman, whose promised hand was the guerdon of ambitious schemes, and years of patient, persistent wooing.  To-day he rode slowly to a parting interview, which would sever the last link that Bad so long held their lives in tender association.  Whatever of regret mingled with the contemplation of his ruined matrimonial castle, lay hidden so deep in the debris, that no faintest reflection was visible in his inscrutable face.

When he reached the railway station where a special car containing a small party, awaited the arrival of the north bound train that would attach it to its sinuous length, a number of friends had assembled to say good-bye to the departing favorite.  The announcement of Miss Gordon’s extended yachting trip, had excited much comment in social circles, and while people wondered at the prolongation of the engagement, none but her immediate family suspected that the betrothal had been cancelled.

Leo’s wonted gracious composure betrayed no hint of the truth, and she greeted Mr. Dunbar with outstretched hand and a friendly smile.

“I am indebted to your kind courtesy, Lennox, for the most auspicious omen at the outset of my long journey; and I shall not attempt to tell you how cordially I appreciate your tasteful souvenir.  Your roses are exquisite, and fragrant as the message they bring me.”

She glanced up at a large horseshoe made of her favorite pink roses, which had been hung by a silver wire directly over the seat she occupied.

“Will you give me your interpretation of their message?”

He swept aside a shawl and reticule, and sat down beside her.

“It is written legibly all over their lovely petals.  You wish me a rose-strewn itinerary, all conceivable forms of ‘good luck’; as though you stood on tip-toe and shouted after me:  ‘Gluck auf.’  As a happy augury, I accept it.  Like the old Romans, you have offered up for me a dainty sacrifice to propitiate Domiduca—­the goddess who grants travellers a safe return home.”