The countess turned pale for a moment, then looked toward the door and saw a beautiful woman--or a girl still--entering, leaning upon Leycester's arm. Society does for a man or woman what a lapidary does for a precious stone. It was precious when it first came into his hands, but when it leaves them it is polished! Stella had become, if the word is allowable when applied to her, the pink of refinement and delicacy, "polished." She had learnt, unconsciously, to wear diamonds, and that with princes. As she came in now, a crowd of "the best" people came round her and did homage, and the countess, looking on, saw with her own eyes, what she had heard rumored, that this daughter-in-law of hers, this penniless niece, had become a power in the land. It amazed her at first, but as she watched she lost her wonder. It was only natural and reasonable; there was no more beautiful or noble looking woman in the room. The band began to play a waltz, the crowds began to move, dancing and promenading. The countess sat amongst the dowagers, pale and smiling, but with an aching heart. Where was Leycester? Presently four persons approached her. Charlie, with Stella on his arm, Leycester with another lady. Suddenly, not seeing her, Charlie stopped, and Stella turning, found herself face to face with the countess. For a moment the proud woman melted, then she hardened her heart and turned her head aside. Leycester, who been been watching, passed in front of her, and he put his hand out. "Leycester!" But he drew Stella's arm within his--she was white and trembling--and looking his mother in the face sternly, passed on with Stella. "Take me home, Leycester," she moaned. "Oh, take me home! How can she be so cruel?" But he would not. "No," he said. "This is your place as much as hers. My poor mother, I pity her. Oh, pride, pride! You must stay." Of course the incident had been noticed and remarked, and, amongst the persons who had seen it was a prince of the blood. This distinguished individual was not only a prince but a gentle-hearted man, and as princes can take things as they please, he disregarded the best name on his ball programme and walking straight up to Stella, begged with that grand humility which distinguishes him, for the honor of her hand. Stella, pale and beautifully pathetic in her trouble, faltered an excuse, an excuse to a royal command. But he would not take it. "A few turns only, Lady Trevor, I implore. I will take care of her, Leycester," he added in a murmur, and he led Stella away. They took a few turns, then he stopped. "You are tired," he said: "will you let me take you into the cool?" He drew her arm through his, but instead of "taking her into the cool," as he phrased it, in his genial way, he marched straight up to the countess.