One present alone brought her joy, and that was Leycester's, and that not because the diamonds of which the necklet was composed were large and almost priceless, but for the fact that he fastened the jewels round her neck with his own hands. "These are my necklets," she murmured, taking his hands as they touched her neck and pressing them. How could he resist her? And yet as the time moved on with that dogged obstinacy which it assumes for us while we would rather have it pause awhile, something of the old moodiness seemed to take possession of him. The long walks and rides grew longer, and often he would not return until late in the night, and then weary and listless. At such times it was Lenore who made excuses for him, if by chance the countess uttered a word of comment or complaint. "Why should he not do as he likes?" she said, with a smile. "It is I who am the slave, not he." But alone in her chamber, where already the signs of the approaching wedding were showing themselves in the shape of new dresses and wedding _trousseau_, the anguish of unrequited love overmastered her. Pacing to and fro, with clasped hands and pale face, she would utter the old moan, the old prayer, which the gods have heard since the world was young: "Give me his love--give me his love! Take all else but let his heart turn to me, and to me only!" If Stella could have known it, she was justly avenged already. Not even the anguish she had endured surpassed that of the proud beauty who had helped to rob her, and who had given her own heart to the man who had none to give her in return. CHAPTER XXXIX. "It certainly must have been made a hundred years after the rest of the world," said Mr. Etheridge. "Where on earth did you hear of it, Jasper?" They were standing, the painter, Jasper, and Stella, on the little stretch of beach that fronted the tiny village of Carlyon, with its cluster of rough-stone cottages and weather-beaten church, the whole nestling under the shadow of the Cornish cliffs that kept the east winds at bay and offered a stern face to the wild seas which so often roared and raged at its base. Jasper smiled. "I can't exactly say, sir," he answered. "I met with it by chance, and it seemed to me just the place for our young invalid. You like it, Stella, I hope?" and he turned to Stella with a softened smile. Stella was leaning on the old man's arm, looking out to sea, with a far-away expression in her dark eyes. "Yes," she said, quietly; "I like it." "Stella likes any place that is far from the madding crowd," remarked Mr. Etheridge, gazing at her affectionately. "You don't appear to have got back your roses yet, my child, however." "I am quite well," she said, not so wearily as indifferently. "I am always well. It is Frank who is ill, you know, uncle." "Ay, ay," he said, with the expression of gravity which always came upon him when the boy was mentioned. "He looks very pale and thin, poor boy."