Stella sat up, very white, in the big easy-chair where she had been resting when Mrs. Seton marched in. The little girl was so entirely overwhelmed by the sudden downfall of all her pretensions to be a heroine that after the first minute of defiance her courage was completely cowed, and she could not find a word to say for herself. She was a very foolish girl carried away by her spirits, by her false conception of what was smart and amusing to do, and by the imperiousness natural to her position as a spoilt child whose every caprice was yielded to. But there was no harm, only folly, in poor little Stella’s thoughts. She liked the company of the young men and the _éclat_ which their attendance gave her. To drag about a couple of officers in her train was delightful to her. But further than that her innocent imagination did not go. Her wild adventure in the yacht had never presented itself to her as anything to be ashamed of, and Mrs. Seton’s horrible suggestion filled her with a consternation for which there was no words. And it gave her a special wound that it should be Mrs. Seton who said it, she who had first introduced her to the noisy whirl of a “set” with which by nature she had nothing to do. “It was all an accident,” Stella murmured at last; “everybody knows it was an accident. I meant to go--for ten minutes--just to try--and then the wind got up. Do you think I wanted to be drowned--to risk my life, to be so ill and frightened to death? Oh!” the poor little girl cried, with that vivid realisation of her own distress which is perhaps the most poignant sentiment in the world--especially when it is unappreciated by others. Mrs. Seton tossed her head; she was implacable. No feature of the adventure moved her except to wrath. “Everybody knows what these accidents mean,” she said, “and as for your life it was in no more danger than it is here. Charlie Somers knows the bay like the palm of his hand. He is one of the best sailors going. I confess I don’t understand what _he_ did it for. Those boys will do anything for fun; but it wasn’t very great fun, I should think--unless it was the lark of the thing, just under your father’s windows and so forth. I do think, Stella, you’ve committed yourself dreadfully, and I shouldn’t wonder if you never got the better of it. _I_ should never have held up my head again if it had been me.”