"Isn't it beautiful?" said Lady Lilian, in a murmur. "I have been richly endowed to-night. Your song and this picture. How exquisite it was! Where did you learn to sing like that?" "Nowhere," said Leycester. "That cannot be learnt!" Lilian looked at him; he was still pale, and his eyes seemed to burn with suppressed eagerness. "Go and thank Mr. Etheridge," she said. "Presently," he said, and he came and put his hand on her arm. "Presently! let me rest here a little while. It is Paradise after----" he paused. "You shall not rest," she said. "Go and sing something, Ley." Then, as Stella looked up, she laughed softly. "Did you not know he could sing? He is a bad, wicked, indolent boy. He can do all sorts of things when he likes, but he never will exert himself. He will not sing, now will you?" He stood looking at Stella, and as if constrained to speak and look at him, Stella raised her eyes. "Will you sing?" she said, almost inaudibly. As if waiting for her command, he bent his head and went to the piano. His fingers strayed over the notes slowly for a moment or two, then he said, without turning his head: "Have you seen these flowers?" Stella did not wish to move; but the voice seemed to draw her, and she rose and crossed to the piano. He looked up. "Stay," he murmured. She hesitated a second, then stood with downcast eyes, which, hidden as they were, seemed to feel his ardent gaze fixed upon her. He still touched the keys gently, and then, without further prelude, he began in a low voice: "I wandered down the valley in the eventide, The birds were singing sweetly in the summer air, The river glided murm'ring to the ocean wide, But still no peace was there; For love lay lurking in the ferny brake; I saw him lying with his bow beside; He cried, 'Sweetheart, we will never, never part!' By the river in the valley at the eventide. "I fled to the mountains, to the clouds and mist, Where the eagle and the hawk share their solitary throne; 'Here at least,' I cried, 'wicked love I can deride, He will leave me here at peace alone.' But love lay lurking in the clouds and mist; I heard him singing sweetly on the mountain side, ''Tis all in vain you fly, for everywhere am I, In every quiet valley, on every mountain side.'" With his eyes fixed on hers, he sang as if every word were addressed to her; his voice was like a flute, mellow and clear, and musical, but it was not the voice but the words that seemed to sink into Stella's heart as she listened. It seemed to her as if he dared her to fly, to seek safety from him--his love, he seemed to say, would pursue her in every quiet valley, on every mountain side. For a moment she forgot Lady Lenore, forgot everything; she felt helpless beneath the spell of those dark eyes, the musical voice; her head drooped, her eyes closed. "'Tis all in vain you fly, for everywhere am I, in every quiet valley, on every mountain side."