It was only a trick of light, no doubt, but he had never seen Stella look so startlingly like her dead mother as she did to-night; the same proud, defiant carriage of the head, the same flashing dark eyes, and curved, scornful, red lips. Twenty years seemed to have slipped away, and he himself to be taken back into the body of a young fool, bringing his beautiful, low-bred bride into the home of his fathers. Speech would dispel the hateful illusion; he realized that, and uttered his daughter’s name sharply: “Stella!” “Yes.” “Be sure that you are dressed in time to-morrow. The train for Portsmouth leaves Grayling Station at two o’clock. Neither Lord Carthew nor I like to be kept waiting. Do you hear me?” “Yes.” “I shall probably not see you to-morrow until you are dressed for the ceremony. You will, of course, wear the pearl necklace Lady Northborough sent you. I hope you have by this time realized fully the honor that Lord Carthew is conferring on you by making you his wife.” No answer. She was looking him full in the eyes with an expression he had never before seen in hers, such an expression as his own face often wore--scornful, sarcastic, and hard. “On my side,” he continued, longing to humble her untamable spirit, “on my side, indeed, there is no question of honoring. The Cranstouns can vie with the Guelphs for antiquity of race; but as the daughter of such a mother as yours, it should, indeed, be gratifying to you that a man of Lord Carthew’s rank should have asked for your hand.” She did not answer in words, but broke into a low laugh of unmistakable contempt. It was the second time that evening that she had laughed at him, and something defiant and insolent in her manner provoked him beyond endurance. He seized both her slender hands in one of his, and shook her savagely. “Be silent!” he muttered. Into her dark eyes there flashed a look which seemed the reflex of his own in savagery. Then, suddenly lowering her head, she buried her teeth in his fingers, causing him instantly to let her go; whereat she looked at him, laughed again, and fled away up the stairs. The assiduous Dakin, who had stolen to the floor above unobserved during the little passage of arms between father and daughter, led the way to the turret bedroom. It made her flesh creep, she admitted afterward, to hear Miss Cranstoun laughing to herself as she glided in. Stella walked straight up to the wedding-dress, which lay upon the bed, a perfectly plain garment of high-necked white satin, with a long tulle veil. As Miss Cranstoun turned the dress over, she laughed again, and flitting about the room, she next lighted on the case containing the pearl necklace. A little exclamation of pleasure escaped her lips as she opened it; until that moment she had not troubled to do so. Now she clasped it round her neck and stood before the looking-glass, trying the effect.