"You are all that is rare and precious to me, my darling," he says; "you are all the world to me. Stella!----" he stops, alarmed lest he should be alarming her, but his arm slides round her, and he ventures to draw her nearer to him. It is the only embrace he has ventured to give her since that night when she fell into his arms at the cottage door at Carlyon, and he half fears that she will shrink from him in the new strange shyness that has fallen upon her; but she does not, instead she lets her head droop until it rests upon his breast, and the strong man's passion leaps full force and masterful in a moment. "Stella!" he murmurs, his lips pressed to hers, which do not swerve, "may I speak? Will you let me? You will not be angry?" She does not look angry; her eyes fixed on his have nothing but submissive love in them. "I have waited,--it seems so long--because I was afraid to trouble you, but I may speak now, Stella?" and he draws her closer to him. "Will you be my wife--soon--soon?" He waits, his handsome face eloquent in its entreaty and anxiety, and she leans back and looks up at him, then her gaze falters. A little quiver hovers on her lips, and the dark eyes droop. Is it "Yes"? If so, he alone could have heard it. "My poor darling!" he murmurs, and he takes her face in his hands and turns it up to him. "Oh, my darling, If you knew how I loved you--how anxiously I have waited! And it shall be soon, Stella! My little wife! My very own!" "Yes!" she said, and, as in the old time, she raises herself in his arms and kisses him. * * * * * "And--and the countess, and all of them!" she murmurs, but with a little quaint smile. He smiles calmly. "Not to-night, darling, do not let us talk of the outside world to-night. But see if 'all of them,' as you put it, are not exactly of one mind; one of them is," and he takes out a letter from his pocket. "From Lilian!" she says, guessing instinctively. Leycester nods. "Yes, take it and read; you will find your name in every line. Stella, it was this letter that gave me courage to speak to you to-night. A woman knows a woman after all--you will read what she says. 'Are you still afraid, Ley,' she writes, 'ask her!' and I have asked. And now all the past will be buried and we shall be happy at last. At last, Stella, where--where shall it be?" She is silent, but she lifts the letter to her lips and kisses it. "What do you say to Paris?" he asks. "Paris!" she echoes, flushing. "Yes," he says, "I have been talking to the old doctor, and he thinks you are strong enough to have a little excitement now, and thinks that a tour in Paris would be the very thing to complete things. What do you say," he goes on, trying to speak in a matter-of-fact voice, but watching her with eager eyes, "if we start at the end of the week, that will give you time to make your preparations, won't it?" "Oh, no, no----!"