Produced by Al Haines [Frontispiece: The carnival of canoes] ROSALIND AT RED GATE _By_ MEREDITH NICHOLSON WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ARTHUR I. KELLER NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT 1907 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY NOVEMBER TO MY MOTHER _Rosalind: I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion._ _Orlando: Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady._ As You Like It. "_Then dame Liones said unto Sir Gareth, Sir, I will lend you a ring; but I would pray you as ye love me heartily let me have it again when the tournament is done, for that ring increaseth my beauty much more than it is of itself. And the virtue of my ring is that that is green it will turn to red, and that is red it will turn in likeness to green, and that is blue it will turn to likeness of white, and that is white, it will turn in likeness to blue, and so it will do of all manner of colours._" Morte D'Arthur. CONTENTS CHAPTER I A Telegram from Paul Stoddard II Confidences III I Meet Mr. Reginald Gillespie IV I Explore Tippecanoe Creek V A Fight on a House-Boat VI A Sunday's Mixed Affairs VII A Broken Oar VIII A Lady of Shadows and Starlight IX The Lights on St. Agatha's Pier X The Flutter of a Handkerchief XI The Carnival of Canoes XII The Melancholy of Mr. Gillespie XIII The Gate of Dreams XIV Battle Orchard XV I Undertake a Commission XVI An Odd Affair at Red Gate XVII How the Night Ended XVIII The Lady of the White Butterflies XIX Helen Takes Me to Task XX The Touch of Dishonor XXI A Blue Cloak and a Scarlet XXII Mr. Gillespie's Diversions XXIII The Rocket Signal XXIV "With My Hands" XXV Daybreak ILLUSTRATIONS The carnival of canoes . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ "We must take no risks whatever, Helen." Three white butterflies fluttered about her head. "Where's your father, Rosalind?" ROSALIND AT RED GATE CHAPTER I A TELEGRAM FROM PAUL STODDARD Up, up, my heart! Up, up, my heart, This day was made for thee! For soon the hawthorn spray shall part, And thou a face shalt see That comes, O heart, O foolish heart, This way to gladden thee. --_H. C. Bunner_. Stoddard's telegram was brought to me on the Glenarm pier at four o'clock Tuesday afternoon, the fifth of June. I am thus explicit, for all the matters hereinafter described turn upon the receipt of Stoddard's message, which was, to be sure, harmless enough in itself, but, like many other scraps of paper that blow about the world, the forerunner of confusion and trouble. My friend, Mr. John Glenarm, had gone abroad for the summer with his family and had turned over to me his house at Annandale that I might enjoy its seclusion and comfort while writing my book on _Russian Rivers_.