"Do I look like one to be swayed as a reed by any passing wind, gentle or rough? No, Stella, such love as I feel for you is not to be turned aside. Even if you were to tell me that you do not, cannot love me, my love would not die; it has taken root in my heart--it has become part of myself. There is not one hour since I saw you that I have not thought about you. Stella, you have come to me even in my sleep; I have dreamed that you whispered to me, 'I love you.' Let the dream be a true one. Oh, my life, my darling, let your heart speak, if it is to say that it loves me. See, Stella, you are all the world to me--do not rob me of happiness. You do not doubt my love?" Doubt his love! That was not possible for her to do, since every word, every look, bore the impress of truth. But still she would not yield. Even as he spoke, she fancied she could see the stern face of the earl looking at her with hard condemnation--could see the beautiful eyes of the countess looking down at her with cold displeasure and wondering, amazed scorn. Footsteps were approaching, and she rose hurriedly, to fly from him if need be. But Lord Leycester was not a man to be turned aside. As she rose he took her arm gently, tenderly, with loving persuasion, and drew her near to him. "Come with me," he said. "Do not leave me for a moment. See, the door is open--it is quite warm. We shall be alone here. Oh, my darling, do not leave me in suspense." She was powerless to resist, and he led her on to the terrace outside. Out into the dusky night, odorous with the breath of the flowers, and mystical in the dim light of the stars. A gentle summer, zephyr-like air stirred the trees; the sound of the water falling over the weir came like music up the hillside. A nightingale sang in the woods below them; all the night seemed full of slumberous passion and unspoken love. "We are alone here, Stella," he murmured. "Now answer me. Listen once more, darling! I am not tired of telling you; I shall never tire of it. Listen! I love you--I love you!" The stars grew dull and misty before her eyes, the charm of his voice, of his presence, was stealing over her; the passionate love which burnt in her heart for him was finding its way through cool prudence, her lips were tremulous. A sigh, long and deep, broke from them. "I love you!" he replied, as if the words were a spell, as indeed they were--a spell not to be resisted. "Give me your answer, Stella. Come close to me. Whisper it! whisper 'I love you,' or send me away. But you will not do that; no, you shall not do that!" and forgetful of his vow to be gentle with her, he put his arm round her, drew her to him and--kissed her. It was the first kiss. A thrill ran through her, the sky seemed to sink, the whole night to pause as if it were waiting. With a little shudder of exquisite pleasure, mingled with that subtle pain which ecstasy always brings in its train, she laid her head upon his breast, and hiding her eyes, murmured--