He came to see her sometimes, and even in the darkened room she could see the ravages which the last few months had made with him; but he was always gentle and considerate toward her, and in response to her loving inquiries always declared that he was well--quite well. Stella's name, by mutual consent, was never mentioned between them. It was understood that that page of his life was closed for ever; but after every visit, when he had left her, she lay and wept over the knowledge that he had not forgotten her. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. As Stella had said, Leycester was not one to love and unlove in a day--in a week--in a month! So the Summer had crept on to the Autumn. Not one word has he heard of Stella. Though she was in his thoughts day and night, alike in the hour of the wildest dissipation, and in the silent watches of the night, he had heard no word of her. All his efforts were directed towards forgetting her. And yet if he picked up a paper or a book and chanced to come upon her name--Stella!--a pang shot through his heart, and the blood fled from his face. The Autumn had come, and London was almost deserted, but there were some who clung on still. There are some to whom the shady side of Pall Mall and their clubs are the only Paradise; and the card-rooms of the Rookery are by no means empty. In the middle of September, when half "the town" was in the country popping at the birds, Leycester and Lord Charles were still haunting Pall Mall. "Better go down and look at the birds," said Lord Charles one night, morning rather, for it was in the small hours. "What do you say to running down to my place, Ley?" "My place" was Vernon Grange, a noble Elizabethan mansion, standing right in the center of one of the finest shooting districts. The grange was at present shut up, the birds running wild, the keepers in despair, all because Lord Leycester could not forget Stella, and his friend would not desert him! "Suppose we start to-morrow morning," went on Lord Charles, struggling into his light over-coat and yawning. "We can take some fellows down!--plenty of birds, you know. Had a letter from the head keeper yesterday; fellow quite broken-hearted, give you my word! Come on, Ley! I'm sick of this, I am, indeed. I hate the place," and he glanced sleepily at the dimly lit hall of the Rookery. "What's the use of playing ecarte and baccarat night after night; it doesn't amuse you even if you win!" Leycester was striding on, scarcely appearing to hear, but the word "amuse" roused him. "Nothing 'amuses,' Charles," he said, quietly. "Nothing. Everything is a bore. The only thing is to forget, and the cards help me to do that, for a little while, at least--a little while." Lord Charles nearly groaned. "They'll make you forget you've anything to lose shortly," he said. "We've been going it like the very deuce, lately, Ley!" Leycester stopped and looked at him, wearily, absently.