Every now and then she could hear Lady Lenore's voice, musical and soft, yet full and distinct; she was talking of the coming season, and Stella heard her speak of great people--persons' names which she had read of, but never expected to hear spoken of so familiarly. It seemed to her that she had got into some charmed circle; it scarcely seemed real. Then occasionally, but very seldom, the earl's thin, clear, high-bred voice would be heard, and once he looked across at Stella herself, and said: "Will you not try some of those rissoles, Miss Etheridge? They are generally very good." "And he never touches them," murmured Lord Charles, with a mock groan. She could hear her uncle talking also--talking more fluently than was his wont--to Lady Wyndward, who was speaking about the pictures, and once Stella saw her glance in her direction as if they had been speaking of her. The dinner seemed very long, but it came to an end at last, and the countess rose. As Stella rose with the rest of the ladies, the old Countess of Longford locked her arm in hers. "I am not so old that I can't walk, and I am not lame, my dear," she said, "but I like something young and strong to lean upon; you are both. You don't mind?" "No!" said Stella. "Yes, I am strong." The old countess looked up at her with a glance of admiration in her gray eyes. "And young," she said significantly. They passed into a drawing-room--not the one they had entered first, but a smaller room which bore the name of "my lady's." It was exquisitely furnished in the modern antique style. There were some beautiful hangings that covered the walls, and served as background for costly cabinets and brackets, upon which was arranged a collection of ancient china second to none in the kingdom. The end of the room opened into a fernery, in which were growing tall palms and whole miniature forests of maidenhair, kept moist by sparkling fountains that fell with a plash, plash, into marble basins. Birds were twitting and flitting about behind a wire netting, so slight and carefully concealed as to be scarcely perceptible. No footman was allowed to enter this ladies' paradise; two maids, in their soft black dresses and snowy caps, were moving about arranging a table for the countess to serve tea upon. It was like a scene from the "Arabian Nights," only more beautiful and luxurious than anything Stella had imagined even when reading that wonderful book of fairy-tales. The countess went straight to her table and took off her gray-white gloves, some of the ladies settled themselves in the most indolent of attitudes on the couches and chairs, and others strolled into the fern house. The old countess made herself comfortable on a low divan, and made room for Stella beside her. "And this is your first visit to Wyndward Hall, my dear?" she said. "Yes," answered Stella, her eyes still wandering round the room. "And you live in that little village on the other side of the river?"