He looked at the white arms, and then at her, with an intensified eagerness. "If you knew how beautiful the morning is--how grand the river looks--you would let the pudding go." Stella shook her head. He inclined his head, too highly bred to persist. "I am so sorry," he said, simply. "I am sorry now that I have gained my way. I thought that you would have come." Stella stood silent, and, with something like a sigh, put down the things and held out her hand; but as he took the finger which she gave him, his face brightened, and a light came into his eyes. "Are you still firm?" "I would not desert the pudding for anything, my lord," said Stella, naively. At the "my lord," a slight shade covered his face, but it went again instantly, as he said: "Well, then, will you come when the inevitable pudding is made? There," he said, eagerly, and still holding her hand he drew her to the window and pointed with his whip, "there's the place! It is not far--just across the meadows, and through the first gate. Do you see it?" "Yes," said Stella, gently withdrawing her hand. "And you will come?" he asked, his eyes fixed on hers with their intent earnestness. At that instant the word--the odious word--"infamous" rang in her ears, and her face paled. He noticed the sudden pallor, and his eyes grew dark with earnest questioning. "I see," he said, quietly, "you will not come!" What was it that moved her? With a sudden impulse she raised her eyes and looked at him steadily. "Yes, I will come!" she said. He inclined his head without a word, called to the dogs, and passed out. Stella stood for a moment looking after them; then she went into the kitchen--not laughing nor singing, but with a strange gravity; a strange feeling had got possession of her. She felt as if she was laboring under some spell. "Charmed" is an often misused word, but it is the right word to describe the sensation. Was it his face or his voice that haunted her? As she stood absently looking down at the table, simple words, short and commonplace, which he had used rang in her ears with a new meaning. Mrs. Penfold stood and regarded her in curious astonishment. She was getting used to Stella's quickly changing moods, but the sudden change bewildered her. "Let me do it, Miss Stella," she pleaded, but Stella shook her head firmly; not by one inch would she swerve from her cause for all the beautiful voice and noble face. In rapt silence she finished her work, then she went up-stairs and put on her hat and came down. As she passed out of the house and down the path, the mastiff leaped the gate and bounded toward her, and the next moment she saw Lord Leycester seated on a stile. He dropped down and came toward her. "How quick you have been," he said, "I thought a pudding was a mystery which demanded an immensity of time." Stella looked up at him, her dark brows drawn to a straight line. "You waited for me?" she said.