“Hilary thought I was his superior in position,” she said to herself; “and oh, how glad I am that that is altered now! He was so humble, he begged my pardon so earnestly for having taken me into his arms; and I am only a poor gypsy’s daughter after all--beneath him, not above him! He must know that. I must tell him, and as soon as possible, before he has time to leave the neighborhood. “And my mother--what became of her? Is she dead? Can any one tell me of her? Would Margaret know? She has been in the house many years, but she would not tell, I think. But there was the little doctor, who knew I was Miss Cranstoun because I was so like my mother. He must have known her, then. Did not the hostler tell me that when Dr. Netherbridge sent him here last night he told him that he knew the Chase, and knew Sir Philip, and had been here years ago? I must see this doctor privately, and at once must find out who and what my mother was. If she ever loved my father--and could any one love him, I wonder?--she must have been very, very miserable.” Until the day broke, Stella remained lost in excited thought, wide-awake, and either walking restlessly up and down the room, or rocking herself backward and forward in a rocking-chair. Her desire to see Hilary immediately grew stronger every moment. She fully believed that when he knew her to be of humble birth, he would no longer avoid her, but would give his love as frankly as he would accept hers. Yet she felt that she must first of all see Dr. Netherbridge, and learn from him the truth about her mother. Her cheeks grew hot with shame at the thought that she had perhaps no right to bear the name of Cranstoun. The idea was so inexpressibly painful that she tried to banish it from her mind; but it returned again and again with a persistency not to be denied. Could she once ascertain that to be a fact, she decided, in an outburst of grief and humiliation, that she would escape from the Chase, and hide herself as far away as possible, unknown to any one. If she was indeed without either legal father or mother, she would no longer live upon grudgingly doled-out charity, but would go into the world and earn a living for herself, as many other poor and friendless girls were doing daily, banishing from her mind forever all thoughts of love and marriage. She was fully resolved of one thing: that no man but Hilary Pritchard should be her husband; but she would never come to him with a stain upon her name.