"They do cost a great deal of money," he said, with a laugh, "but I don't know that they amuse me very much. I don't think anything amuses me very greatly." Then the countess looked at him. "When a man talks like that, Leycester, it generally means that it is time he was married!" He half expected what was coming, but he looked grave; nevertheless he turned to her with a smile. "Isn't that rather a desperate remedy, my lady?" he said. "I can give up my horses if they cease to amuse me and bore me too much; I can give up most of the other so-called amusements, but marriage--supposing that should fail? It would be rather serious." "Why should it fail?" "It does sometimes," he retorted, gravely. "Not when love enters into it," she answered, gently. He was silent, his eyes bent on the ground, from which seemed to rise a slim, girlish figure, with Stella's face and eyes. "There is no greater happiness than that which marriage affords when one is married to the person one loves. Do you think your father has been unhappy, Leycester?" He turned to her with a smile. "Every man--few men have his luck, my lady. Will you find me another Lady Ethel?" She colored. This was a direct question, and she longed to answer it, but she dared not--not just yet. "The world is full of fond, loving women," she said. He nodded. He thought he knew one at least, and his eyes went to that mental vision of Stella again. "Leycester, I want to see you married and settled," she murmured, after a pause. "It is time; it is fitting that you should be. I'll put the question of your own happiness aside for the moment; there are other things at stake." "You would not like me to be the last Earl of Wyndward, mother? The title would die with me, would it not?" "Yes," she said. "That must not be, Leycester." He shook his head with a quiet smile. No, it should not be, he thought. "I wonder," she continued, "that the thing has not come about before this, and without any word of mine. I don't think you are very hard-hearted, unimpressionable, Leycester. You and I have met some beautiful women, and some good and pure ones. I should not have been surprised if you had come to me with the confession of your conquest long ago. You would have come to me, would you not, Leycester?" she asked. A faint flush stole over his face, and his eyes dropped slightly. He did not answer for a moment, and she went on as if he had assented. "I should have been very glad to have heard of it. I should have welcomed your choice very heartily." "Are you sure?" he said, almost mechanically. "Quite," she answered, serenely. "Your wife will be a second daughter to me, I hope, Leycester. I know that I should love her if you do; are we ever at variance?" "Never until to-night," he might have answered, but he remained silent. What if he should turn to her with the frank openness with which he had gone to her in all his troubles and joys, and say: