CHAPTER XIX.
VIA CRUCIS.
So once more Miss Danton was "engaged;" once more preparations for a double wedding went on; once more her wedding day was named.
There was very little noise made about the matter this time.

Father Francis and Doctor Danton were almost the only two outside the household who knew anything about it, and somehow these were the very two Kate herself wished most to keep it from.
She was ashamed of her mercenary marriage; in spite of herself she despised herself for it, and she felt they must despise her for it too.
She shrank away guiltily under the clear steadfast, searching gaze of Father Francis, feeling how low she must have fallen in his estimation.
She respected and esteemed the priest and the Doctor so much, that it was humiliating to lose their respect by her own voluntary act.

But it was too late to draw back, even if she wished it; her fetters were forged--she was bound beyond recall.
Sir Ronald Keith had got the desire of his heart--Kate Danton was his promised wife, and yet he was not quite happy.

Are we ever quite happy, I wonder, when we attain the end for which we have sighed and longed, perhaps for years?
Our imagination is so very apt to paint that desire of our heart in rainbow-hues, and we are so very apt to find it, when it comes, only dull gray, after all.
Sir Ronald loved his beautiful and queenly affianced with a changeless devotion nothing could alter.

He had thought her promise to marry him would satisfy him perfectly; but he had that promise, and he was not satisfied.