"Is it a dream, do you think?" he answered. The crimson dyed her face and neck, and her eyes drooped. "And you are happy?" he said. "Think what I must be. For a man's love is deeper, more passionate than a woman's, Stella. Think what I must be!" She sighed and looked up at him. "But still it is wrong! I fear that. All the world will say that." "All the world!" he echoed, with smiling scorn. "What have we to do with the world? We two stand outside, beyond it. Our world is love--is our two selves, my darling." "All the world," she said. "Ah! what will they say?" and instinctively she glanced over her shoulder at the great house with the glow of light streaming from its many windows. "Even now--now they are wondering where you are, expecting, waiting for you. What would they say if they knew you were here with me--and--and all that has happened?" His eyes darkened. He knew better than she, with all her fears, what they would say, and already he was braving himself to meet the storm, but he smiled to re-assure her. "They will say that I am the most fortunate of men. They will say that the gods have lavished their good gifts with both hands--they have given me all the things that you make so much of, and the greatest of all things--the true sole love of a pure, beautiful angel." "Oh, hush, hush!" she murmured. "You are an angel to me," he said, simply. "I am not worthy to touch the hem of your dress! If I could but live my worthless, sinful life over again, for your sake, my darling, it should be purer and a little less unworthy of you." "Oh, hush!" she murmured. "You unworthy of me! You are my king!" Strong man as he was he was stirred and moved to the depths of his being at the simple words, eloquent of her absolute trust and devotion. "My Stella," he murmured, "if you knew all; but see, my life is yours from henceforth. I place it in your hands, mold it as you will. It is yours henceforth." She was looking at him, all her soul in her eyes, and at his words of passionate protestation, a sudden thrill ran through her, then as instantly, as if a sudden cold hand had come between them, she shivered. "Mine," she breathed, fearfully, "until they snatch it from me." CHAPTER XIII. He started. The words had almost the solemnity of a prophesy. "Who will dare?" he said; then he laughed. "My little, fearsome, trembling darling!" he murmured, "fear nothing or rather, tell me what you fear, and whom." She glanced toward the windows. "I fear them all!" she said, quietly and simply. "My father?" She inclined her head and let her head fall upon his shoulder. "The countess, all of them. Lord Leycester----" He put his hand upon her lips softly. "What was that I heard?" he said, with tender reproach. She looked up. "Leycester," she whispered. He nodded.