“Not to-night, dear; I do not wish you to know him.” Stella released herself and, with a ripple of girlish laughter, walked boldly over to John, her face wreathed in friendly smiles. “Mr. Graham, permit me to introduce myself, Stella Butler. My father has just forbidden it. I care nothing for your old politics--shall we not be friends?” She extended a dainty little hand and John took it stammering incoherently. Never had he touched a hand so warm, and tender and so full of vital magnetism. It thrilled him with strange confusion. Never had he seen a vision of such bewildering loveliness. An exquisite oval face with lines like a delicate cameo, cheeks of ripe-peach red, a crown of unruly raven-black hair, and big brown eyes shaded by heavy lashes. Her dress showed the perfection of good taste and careful study--a yellow satin, trimmed in old lace that fitted her rounded little figure without a wrinkle, dainty feet in snow-white stockings and bow-tipped slippers that peeped in and out mischievously as she walked, and with it all a magnetic personality which riveted and held the attention. He stared at her a moment dumb with wonder. Could it be possible that a girl of such extraordinary beauty, of such remarkable character, of such appealing manners could have been born of such a father! “As the new mistress of your old home let me bid you a hearty welcome, Mr. Graham,” she said softly. “You must come often and tell me all its legends and ghost stories?” The Judge shuffled uneasily and cleared his throat with nervous anger. “Now keep still, Papa! I’m going to make this old house ring with joy and laughter. I won’t have any of your political quarrels. I’m going to be friends with everybody, as my mother was--they say she was a famous belle in her day, Mr. Graham?” “So I have often heard,” John answered with increasing confusion, as he retreated toward the door. “You will come again?” “I hope to soon,” he gravely answered as he bowed himself out the door. CHAPTER II--MR. HOYLE RECEIVES A SHOCK STEVE HOYLE had called early at the Judge’s to see Stella the morning after John’s encounter in the hall. As he paced restlessly back and forth waiting the return of Stella’s maid, he was evidently in an ugly humour. When he heard the story at the hotel late the night before, that his hated rival in politics and society had dared to venture into Judge Butler’s home, he could not believe it. And the idea that Stella should receive him had cut his vanity to the quick.