"A school-girl should be fresh, as you put it Lenore, or she is nothing." Lord Leycester looked from one to the other, and his gaze rested on Lady Lenore's superb beauty with a complacent eye. To say that a man in love is blind to all women other than the one of his heart is absurd. It is not true. He had never admired Lady Lenore more than he did this moment when she spoke in Stella's defense; but he admired her while he loved Stella. "You are right, Lenore," he said. "She is beautiful." "I admire her exceedingly," said Lady Lenore, smiling at him as if she knew his secret and approved of it. The countess glanced from one to the other. "It is getting late," she said. "You must go now, Lenore." Lady Lenore bowed her head. She, like all else who came within the circle of the mistress of Wyndward, obeyed her. "Very well, I am a little tired. Good-night!" Lord Leycester took her hand, but held it a moment. He felt grateful to her for the word spoken on Stella's behalf. "Let me see you to the corridor," said Lord Leycester. And with a bow which comprehended the other occupants of the room, he accompanied her. They walked in silence to the foot of the stairs, then Lady Lenore held out her hand. "Good-night," she said, "and happy dreams." He looked at her curiously. Was there any significance in her words?--did she know all that had passed between Stella and himself? But nothing more significant met his scrutiny than the soft languor of her eyes, and pressing her hand as he bent over it, he murmured: "I wish you the same." She nodded smilingly to him, and went away, and he turned back to the hall. As he did so the billiard-room door opened, and Lord Charles put out his head. "One game, Ley?" he said. Lord Leycester shook his head. "Not to-night, Charlie." Lord Charles looked at him, then laughed, and withdrew his head. Leycester sauntered down the hall and back again; he felt very restless and disinclined for bed; Stella's voice was ringing in his ears, Stella's lips still clung with that last soft caress to his. He could not face the laughter and hard voices of the billiard-room; it would be profanation! With a sudden turn he went lightly up the stairs and entered his own room. Throwing himself into a chair, he folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, to call up a vision of the girl who had rested on his breast--whose sweet, pure lips had murmured "I love you!" "My darling!" he whispered--"my darling love! I have never known it till now. And I shall see you to-morrow, and hear you whisper that again, 'I love you!' And it's ME she loves, not the viscount and heir to Wyndward, but _me_, Leycester! Leycester--it was a hard, ugly name until she spoke it--now it sounds like music. Stella, my star, my angel!" Suddenly his reverie was disturbed by a knock at the door. With a start, he came back to reality, and got up, but before he could reach the door it opened, and the countess came in.