The dinner at the Albert was in every way worthy of the club and of the occasion, but Ranald was glad to get it over. He was eager to get away from the city associated in his mind with so much that was painful. At length the last speech was made, and the last song was sung, and the men in a body marched to the station carrying their hero with them. As they stood waiting for the train to pull out, a coachman in livery approached little Merrill. “A lady wishes to see Mr. Macdonald, sir,” he said, touching his hat. “Well, she's got to be quick about it,” said Merrill. “Here, Glengarry,” he called to Ranald, “a lady is waiting outside to see you, but I say, old chap, you will have to make it short, I guess it will be sweet enough.” “Where is she?” said Ranald to the coachman. “In here, sir,” conducting him to the ladies' waiting-room, and taking his place at the door outside. Ranald hurried into the room, and there stood Kate. “Dear Kate!” he cried, running toward her with both hands outstretched, “this is more than kind of you, and just like your good heart.” “I only heard last night, Ranald,” she said, “from Maimie, that you were to be here to-day, and I could not let you go.” She stood up looking so brave and proud, but in spite of her, her lips quivered. “I have waited to see you so long,” she said, “and now you are going away again.” “Don't speak like that, Kate,” said Ranald, “don't say those things. I want to tell you how you have helped me these three lonely years, but I can't, and you will never know, and now I am going back. I hardly dared to see you, but I wish you everything that is good. I haven't seen Harry either, but you will wish him joy for me. He is a very lucky fellow.” By this time Ranald had regained control of himself, and was speaking in a tone of frank and brotherly affection. Kate looked at him with a slightly puzzled air. “I've seen Maimie,” Ranald went on, “and she told me all about it, and I am--yes, I am very glad.” Still Kate looked a little puzzled, but the minutes were precious, and she had much to say. “Oh, Ranald!” she cried, “I have so much to say to you. You have become a great man, and you are good. I am so proud when I hear of you,” and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, “I pray for you every day.” As Ranald stood gazing at the beautiful face, and noticed the quivering lips and the dark eyes shining with tears she was too brave to let fall, he felt that he was fast losing his grip of himself. “Oh, Kate,” he cried, in a low, tense voice, “I must go. You have been more to me than you will ever know. May you both be happy.” “Both?” echoed Kate, faintly. “Yes,” cried Ranald, hurriedly, “Harry will, I'm sure, for if any one can make him happy, you can.” “I?” catching her breath, and beginning to laugh a little hysterically. “What's the matter, Kate? You are looking white.” “Oh,” cried Kate, her voice broken between a sob and a laugh, “won't Harry and Lily enjoy this?”