Stella leant back and watched him under her lowered lids as he rowed--every stroke of the strong arm sending the boat along like an arrow from the bow--and an exquisite happiness fell upon her. She did not want him to speak; it was enough for her to sit and watch him, to know that he was within reach of her hand if she bent forward, to feel that he loved her. He rowed down stream until they came to an island; then he guided the boat out of the principal current into a back water, and rested on his oars. "Now let me look at you!" he said. "I haven't had an opportunity yet." Stella put up her sunshade to shield her face, and laughingly he drew it away. "That is not fair. I have been thirsting for a glance from those dark eyes all day. I cannot have them hidden now. And what are you thinking of?" he asked, smilingly, but with suppressed eagerness, "There is a serious little look in those eyes of yours--of mine! They are mine, are they not, Stella? What is it?" "Shall I tell you?" she answered, in a low voice. "Yes," he said. "You shall whisper it. Let me come nearer to you," and he sank down at her feet and put up his hand for hers. "Now then." Stella hesitated a moment. "I was thinking and wondering whether this--whether this isn't very wrong, Le--Leycester." The name dropped almost inaudibly, but he heard it and put her hand to his lips. "Wrong?" he said, as if he were weighing the question most judiciously. "Yes and no. Yes, if we do not love each other, we two. No, if we do. I can speak for myself, Stella. My conscience is at rest because I love you. And you?" Her hand closed in his. "No, my darling," he said, "I would not ask you to do anything wrong. It may be a little unconventional, this stolen half-hour of ours--perhaps it is; but what do you and I care for the conventional? It is our happiness we care for," and he smiled up at her. It was a dangerously subtle argument for a girl of nineteen, and coming from the man she loved, but it sufficed for Stella, who scarcely knew the full meaning of the term "conventional," but, nevertheless, she looked down at him with a serious light in her eye. "I wonder if Lady Lenore would have done it," she said. A cloud like a summer fleece swept across his face. "Lenore?" he said, then he laughed. "Lenore and you are two very different persons, thank Heaven. Lenore," and he laughed, "worships the conventional! She would not move a step in any direction excepting that properly mapped out by Mrs. Grundy." "You would not ask her, then?" said Stella. He smiled. "No, I should not," he said, emphatically and significantly. "I should not ask anyone but you, my darling. Would you wish me to?" "No, no," she said hastily, and she laughed. "Then let us be happy," he said, caressing her hand. "Do you know that you have made a conquest--I mean in addition to myself?" "No," she said. "I?" "Yes, you," he repeated. "I mean my sister Lilian."