That look sealed, that night, the destiny of Gerald Grantham.  The coldness of the general demeanour of Matilda, was forgotten in the ardor of character which had escaped from beneath the evident and habitual disguise; and the enthusiastic sailor could think of nothing but the witchery of that look.  To his surprise and joy, the following day, and ever afterwards, he found that the manner of the American, although reserved as usual with others, had undergone a complete change towards himself.  Whenever he appeared alone a smile was his welcome, and if others were present she always contrived to indemnify him for a coldness he now knew to be assumed, by conveying unobserved one of those seductive glances the power of which she seemed so fully to understand.

Such was the state of things when the D’Egvilles arrived.  Exposed to the observations of more than one anxious friend, it was not likely that a youth of Gerald’s open nature, could be long in concealing his prepossession; and as Matilda, although usually guarded in her general manner, was observed sometimes to fix her eyes upon him with the expression of one immersed in deep and speculative thought, the suspicion acquired a character of greater certainty.

To Harry Grantham, who doated upon his brother, this attachment was a source of infinite disquiet, for, from the very commencement, Miss Montgomerie had unfavorably impressed him; why he knew not, yet impelled by a feeling he was unable to analyze, he deeply lamented that they had ever become acquainted, infatuated as Gerald appeared by her attractions.  There was another, too, who saw with regret the attachment of Gerald to his fair prisoner.  It was Gertrude D’Egville, but her uncomplaining voice spoke not, even to her beloved sister, of the anguish she endured—­she loved her cousin, but he knew it not—­and although she felt that she was fast consuming with the disappointment that preyed upon her peace, she had obtained of her sister the promise that the secret should never reach the ear of its object.

In this manner passed the months of August and September.  October had just commenced, and with it, that beautiful but brief season which is well known in Canada as the Indian summer.  Anxious to set out on his return to that home to which his mutilation must confine him for the future, Major Montgomerie, now sufficiently recovered to admit of his travelling by water, expressed a desire to avail himself of the loveliness of the weather, and embark forthwith on his return.

By the officers whom the hospitality of Colonel D’Egville almost daily assembled beneath his roof, this announcement was received with dismay, and especially by Molineux, and Villiers who had so suffered themselves to be fascinated by the amiable daughters of General Hull, as to have found it necessary to hold a consultation (decided however in the negative.) whether they should, or should not tempt them to remain, by making an offer