Morris turned on the lamps, and looked at this fair being, this chosen home of Music, who lay before him like a broken lily. Then back into his heart with a chilling shock came the thought that this woman, to him at least the most beautiful and gifted his eyes had seen, had promised herself in marriage to Stephen Layard; that she, her body, her mind, her music—all that made her the Stella Fregelius whom he knew—were the actual property of Stephen Layard. Could it be true? Was it not possible that he had made some mistake? that he had misunderstood? A burning desire came upon him to know, to know before he went, and upon the forceful impulse of that moment he did what at any other time would have filled him with horror. He asked her; the words broke from his lips; he could not help them. “Is it true,” he said, with something like a groan, “can it be true that you—_you_ are really going to marry that man?” Stella sat up and looked at him. So she had guessed aright. She made no pretence of fencing with him, or of pretending that she did not know to whom he referred. “Are you mad to ask me such a thing?” she asked, with a strange break in her voice. “I am sorry,” he began. She stamped her foot upon the ground. “Oh!” she said, “it hurts me, it hurts—from my father I understood, but that you should think it possible that I would sell myself—I tell you that it hurts,” and as she spoke two large tears began to roll from her lovely pleading eyes. “Then you mean that you refused him?” “What else?” “Thank you. Of course, I have no right to interfere, but forgive me if I say that I cannot help feeling glad. Even if it is taken on the ground of wealth you can easily make as much money as you want without him,” and he glanced at the violin which lay beside her. She made no reply, the subject seemed to have passed from her mind. But presently she lifted her head again, and in her turn asked a question. “Did you not say that you are going away to-morrow?” Then something happened to the heart and brain and tongue of Morris Monk so that he could not speak the thing he wished. He meant to answer a monosyllable “Yes,” but in its place he replied with a whole sentence. “I was thinking of doing so; but after all I do not know that it will be necessary; especially in the middle of our experiments.” Stella said nothing, not a single word. Only she found her handkerchief, and without in the least attempting to hide them, there before his eyes wiped the two tears off her face, first one and then the other. This done she held out her hand to him and left the room. CHAPTER XIV. THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL