For a moment Stella stared at him indignantly. Then suddenly he saw a blush spread upon her face to be followed by an intense pallor, while the pupils of the lovely eyes enlarged themselves and grew soft. Next instant she put her hand to her heart, tottered on her feet, and had he not caught her would perhaps have fallen. “I do not think I need trouble you to answer my question, which, indeed, now that I think of it, was one I had no right to put,” he said as she recovered herself. “Oh, my God!” moaned Stella, wringing her hands; “I never knew it till this moment. You have brought it home to me; you, yes, you!” and she burst out weeping. “Here are the hysterics,” thought the Colonel, “and I am afraid that the headache will be bad to-morrow morning.” To her, however, he said very tenderly, “My dear girl, my dear girl, pray do not distress yourself. These little accidents will happen in the best regulated hearts, and believe me, you will get over it in a month or two.” “Accident!” she said. “It is no accident; it is Fate!—I see it all now—and I shall never get over it. However, that is my own affair, and I have no right to trouble you with my misfortunes.” “Oh! but you will indeed, and though you may think the advice hard, I will tell you the best way.” She looked up in inquiry. “Change your mind and marry Stephen Layard. He is not at all a bad fellow, and—there are obvious advantages.” This was the Colonel’s first really false move, as he himself felt before the last word had left his lips. “Colonel Monk,” she said, “because I am unfortunate is it any reason that you should insult me?” “Miss Fregelius, to my knowledge I have never insulted any woman; and certainly I should not wish to begin with one who has just honoured me with her confidence.” “Is it not an insult,” she answered with a sort of sob, “when a woman to her shame and sorrow has confessed—what I have—to bid her console herself by marriage with another man?” “Now that you put it thus, I confess that perhaps some minds might so interpret an intention which did not exist. It seemed to me that, after a while, in marriage you would most easily forget a trouble which my son so unworthily has brought on you.” “Don’t blame him for he does not deserve it. If anybody is to blame it is I; but in truth all those stories are false; we have neither of us done anything.” “Do not press the point, Miss Fregelius; I believe you.” “We have neither of us done anything,” she repeated; “and, what is more, if you had not interfered, I do not think that I should have found out the truth; or, at least, not yet—till I saw him married, perhaps, when it would have been no matter.” “When you see a man walking in his sleep you do your best to stop him,” said the Colonel.