CHAPTER XXXV.

Time--which Lord Leycester had been so recklessly wasting in "riotous

living"--passed very quiet indeed in the Thames valley, beneath the

white walls of Wyndward Hall.

During the months which elapsed since that fearful parting between the

two lovers, life had gone on at the cottage just as before, with the

one great exception that Jasper Adelstone had become almost a daily

visitor, and that Stella was engaged to him.

That was all the difference, but what a difference it was!

Lord Leycester gone--her tried, her first lover, the man who had won

her maiden heart--and in his place this man whom she--hated.

But yet she fought the battle womanfully. She had made a bargain--she

had sacrificed herself for her two loved ones, had given herself freely

and unreservedly, and she strove to carry out her part of the compact.

She looked a little pale, a little graver than of old, but there was no

querulous tone of complaint about her; if she did not laugh the frank,

light-hearted laugh that her uncle used to declare was like the "voice

of sunlight," she smiled sometimes; and if the smile was rather sad

than mirthful, it was very sweet.

The old man noticed nothing amiss; he thought she had grown quieter,

but set the change down to her betrothal; he went on painting, absorbed

in his work, scarcely heeding the world that ran by him so merrily, so

sadly, and was quite content. Jasper's quiet, low-toned voice did not

disturb him, and he would go on painting while they were talking near

him, dead to their presence. Since that last blow his boy's crime had

struck him, he had lived more entirely and completely in his art than

ever.

Of the two, Frank and Stella, perhaps it was Frank who seemed the

most changed. He had grown thinner and paler, and more girlish and

delicate-looking than ever.

It had been arranged that he should go up to the university for the

next term, but Mr. Hamilton, the old doctor, who had been called in to

see to a slight cough which the boy had started, had hummed and hawed,

and advised that the 'varsity should be shelved for the present.

"Was he ill?" Stella had asked, anxiously--very anxiously, for,

woman-like, she had grown to love with a passionate devotion the boy

for whom she had sacrificed herself.

"N--o; not ill," the old doctor had said. "Certainly not ill," and he

went on to explain that Frank was delicate--that all boys with fair

hair and fair complexions were more or less delicate.

"But he has such a beautiful color," said Stella, nervously.

"Y--es; a nice color," said the old man, and that was all she could get

out of him.

But the cough did not go; and as the Autumn mists stole up from the

river and covered the meadows with a filmy veil, beautiful to behold,

the cough got worse; but the beautiful color did not go either, and so

Stella was not very anxious.

As for Frank himself, he treated his ailments with supreme indifference.

"Do I take any medicine?" he said, in answer to Stella's questioning.

"Yes, I take all the old woman--I beg his pardon!--the doctor sends.

It isn't very unpleasant, and though it doesn't do me much good

apparently, it seems to afford you and the aforesaid old woman some

satisfaction, and so we are pleased all round."

"You don't seem to take any interest in things, Frank," said Stella,

one morning, when she had come into the garden to look at the trees

that drew a long line of gold and brown and yellow along the river

bank, and had found him leaning on the gate, his hands clasped before

him, his eyes fixed on the Hall, very much as she had first seen him,

the night he had come home.

He looked round at her and smiled faintly.

"Why don't you go and try the fish?" she said. "Or--or--go for a ride?

You only wander about the gardens or in the meadows."

He looked at her curiously.

"Why do not you?" he said, slowly, his large blue eyes fixed on her

face, which grew slowly blush-red under his regard. "You do not seem to

take much interest in things, Stel. You don't go and fish, or--or--take

a drive, or anything. You only wander about the garden, or in the

meadows."

The long lashes swept her cheeks, and she struggled with a sigh. His

words had told home.

"But--but," she said falteringly, "I am not a boy. Girls should stay at

home and attend to their duties."

"And walk and move as if they were in a dream--as if their hearts and

souls were divorced from their bodies--and miles, miles away," he said,

waving his thin white hand in the air slowly.

Her lips quivered, and she turned her face away, but only for a moment;

it was back upon him with a smile again.

"You are a foolish, fanciful boy!" she said, putting her hand on his

shoulder and caressing his cheek.

"Perhaps so," he said. "'My fancies are more than all the world to me,'

says the poet, you know," he added, bitterly.

Stella's heart ached.

"Are you angry with me, Frank?" she said. "Don't be!"

He shook his head.

"No, not angry," he said, looking out at the mist that was rising.

She smothered a sigh; she understood his reproach; not a moment of the

day but he accused her in his heart of betraying Lord Leycester; if he

could but have known why she had done it; but that he never would know!

"You are a fanciful boy," she said, with a forced lightness. "What are

you dreaming about now, I wonder?"

"I was wondering too," he answered, without looking at her, "I was

wondering--shall I tell you----"

She answered "yes," with her hand against his cheek.

"I was wondering where Lord Leycester was, and how----"

Her hand dropped to her side and pressed her heart; the sudden mention

of the name had struck her like a blow.

He glanced round.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "I forgot; his name was never to be

mentioned, was it? I will not sin again--in word. In thought--one can't

help one's thoughts, Stel!"

"No," she murmured, almost inaudibly.

"Thoughts are free," he said; "mine are not, however; they are always

flying after him--after him, the best and noblest of men, the man who

saved my life. You see, though I may not speak of him, it would be

ungrateful to forget him!"

"Frank!"

At her tone of piteous supplication and almost reproach, he turned and

put his hand on her arm.

"Forgive me, Stel! I didn't mean to hurt you, but--but--well it is

so hard to understand, so hard to bear! To feel, to know that he is

far away and suffering, while that man, Jasper Adelstone--I beg your

pardon, Stel! There! I will say no more!"

"Do not," she murmured, her face white and strained, but resigned--"do

not. Besides, you are wrong; he has forgotten by this time."

He turned and looked at her with a sudden anger; then he smiled as the

exquisite beauty of her face smote him.

"You wrong him and yourself. No, Stel, men do not forget such a girl as

you----"

"No more!" she said, almost in a tone of command.

He shook his head, and the cough came on and silenced him.

She put her arm round his neck.

"That cough," she said. "You must go in, dear! Look at the mist. Come,

come in!"

He turned in silence and walked beside her for a few steps. Then he

said tremulously:

"Stella, let me ask one question, and then I will be silent--for

always."

"Well?" she said.

"Have you heard from him?--do you know where he is?"

She paused a moment to control her voice, then she said:

"I have heard no word; I do not know whether he is alive or dead."

He sighed and his head dropped upon his breast.

"Let us go in," he said, then he started, for his ears, particularly

sharp, had caught the sound of a well-known footstep.

"There is--Jasper," he said, with a pause before the name, and he drew

his arm away and walked away from her. Stella turned with a strange set

smile on her face, the set smile which she had learnt to greet him with.

He came up the path with his quick and peculiar suppressed step, his

hand outstretched. He would have taken her in his arms and kissed

her--if he had dared. But he could not. With all his determination and

resolution he dared not. There was something, some mysterious halo

about his victim which kept him almost at arm's length; it was as if

she had surrounded herself by a magic circle which he could not pass.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips and kissed it, his eyes

drinking in her beauty and grace with a thirsty wistfulness.

"My darling," he murmured, in his soft, low voice, "out so late. Will

you not catch cold?"

"No," she said, and like her smile her voice seemed set and tutored.

"I shall not catch cold, I never do under any circumstance. But I have

just sent Frank in, he has been coughing terribly--he does not seem at

all strong."

He frowned with swift impatience.

"Frank is all right," he said, and there was a touch of jealousy in his

voice. "Are you not unduly anxious about the boy--you alarm yourself

without cause."

"Alarm myself," she repeated, ready to be alarmed at the suggestion.

"I--don't think, I hope I am not alarmed. Why should I be?" she said,

anxiously.

The jealousy grew more pronounced.

"There is no reason whatever," he said, shortly. "The boy is all

right. He has been getting his feet wet and caught cold, that is all."

Stella smiled.

"Yes, that is all," she said, "of course. But it is strange Dr.

Hamilton doesn't get rid of it for him."

"Perhaps he doesn't help the doctor," he retorted. "Boys always

are careless about themselves. But don't let Frank absorb all the

conversation," he said. "Let us talk of ourselves," and he kissed her

hand again.

"Yes," said Stella, obediently.

He kept her hand in his and pressed it.

"I have come to speak to you to-night, Stella, about ourselves,

darling. I want you to be very good to me!"

She looked forward at the lighted room with the same set expression,

waiting patiently, obediently, for him to proceed. There was no

response in her touch or in her face. He noticed it--he never failed to

notice it, and it maddened him. He set his teeth hard.

"Stella, I have been waiting month after month to say what I am going

to say now; but I couldn't wait any longer, my darling, my own, I wish

the marriage to take place."

She did not start, but she turned and looked at him, and her face

shone whitely in the darkness, and he felt a faint shudder in the hand

imprisoned in his.

"Will you not speak?" he said, after a moment, almost angry, because

of the tempest of passion and breathed tenderness that possessed him.

"Have you nothing to say, or will you say 'no?' I almost expect it."

"I will not say no," she said, at last, and her voice was cold and

strained. "You have a right--the right I have given you--to demand the

fulfillment of our bargain."

"Good Heaven!" he broke in, passionately. "Why do you talk like this?

Shall I never, never win you to love me? Will you never forget how we

came together?"

"Do not ask me," she said, almost pleaded, and her face quivered.

"Indeed--indeed, I try, try--try hard to forget the past, and to please

you!"

It was piteous to hear and see her, and his heart ached; but it was for

himself as well as for her.

"Do you doubt my love?" he said, hoarsely. "Do you think any man could

love you better than I do? Does that count as nothing with you?"

"Yes, yes," she said, slowly, sadly. "It does count. I--I----" then she

looked down. "Why will you speak of love between us?" she said. "Ask

me--tell me to do anything, and I will do it, but do not speak of love!"

He bit his lip.

"Well," he said, with an effort, "I will not. I see I cannot touch your

heart yet. But the time will come. You cannot stand against a love like

mine. And you will let our marriage be soon?"

"Yes," she said, simply.

He raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it, hungrily, and she forced

back the shudder which threatened to overmaster her.

"By soon," he murmured, as they walked toward the house, "I mean quite

soon--before the winter."

Stella did not speak.

"Let it be next month, darling," he murmured. "I shall not feel sure

of you until you are my very own. Once you are mine beyond question, I

will teach you to love me."

Stella looked at him, and a strange, despairing smile, more bitter and

sad than tears, shone on her pale lips. Teach her to love him! As if

love could be taught!

"I am not afraid," he said, answering her smile; "no one could

withstand it--not even you, though your heart were adamant."

"It is not that," she said, in a low voice, as she thought of the dull

aching which was its pittance by day and night.

They went into the house. Mr. Etheridge was wandering about the

room, smoking his pipe, his head upon his breast, buried in thought,

as usual. Frank was lying back in the old arm-chair; he looked

wearily-fragile and delicate, but the beautiful color shone in his face.

He looked up and nodded as Jasper entered, but Jasper was not satisfied

with the nod, and went over to him and laid a hand upon his shoulder,

at which the boy winced and shrank faintly; he never could bear Jasper

to touch him, and always resented it.

"Well, Frank," he said, with his faint smile, "how's the cold to-night?"

Frank murmured something indistinctly, and shifted in his seat.

"Not so well, eh?" said Jasper. "It seems to me that a change would do

you good. What do you say to going away for a little while?"

The boy looked up at Stella with a glance of alarm. Leave Stella!

"I don't want to go away," he said, shortly. "I am quite well. I hate a

change."

Stella came up to his chair, and knelt beside him.

"It would do you good, dear," she said, in her low, musical voice.

He bent near her.

"Do you mean--alone?" he asked. "I don't want to go alone--I won't, in

fact."

"No, not alone, certainly," said Jasper, with his smile. "I think some

one else wants a change too."

And he looked at Stella tenderly.

"I'll go if Stella goes," said Frank, curtly.

"What do you say, sir?" said Jasper to the old man.

He stared, and the proposal had to be put to him _in extenso_; he had

not heard a word of what had been said.

"Go away! yes, if you like. But why? Frank's cold? I don't suppose any

other place is better for a cold is it? It is? Very well then. You

don't want me to come, I suppose?"

"Well----" said Jasper.

"I couldn't do it!" exclaimed the old man, almost with alarm. "I should

be like a fish out of water. I couldn't paint away from the river and

the meadows. Oh, it's impossible! Besides, you don't want an old man

pottering about," and he looked at Stella and smiled grimly.

"I couldn't go without you," said Stella, quietly.

"Nonsense," he said; "there's the other old woman, Mrs. Penfold, take

her; she can go. It will do her good, though she hasn't a cold."

Then he stopped in front of the boy and looked at him, with the strange

reserved, almost sad, expression which always came upon his race when

he regarded him.

"Yes," he said, in a low voice; "he wants a change. I haven't noticed;

he looks thin and unwell. Yes, you had better go! Where will you go?"

Stella shook her head with a smile, but Jasper was ready.

"Let me see," he said, thoughtfully. "We don't want a cold place, the

change would be too great; and we don't want too hot a place. What do

you say to Cornwall?"

The old man nodded.

Stella smiled again.

"I haven't anything to say," she said. "Would you like Cornwall, Frank?"

He looked from one to the other.

"What made you think of Cornwall?" he asked Jasper, suspiciously.

Jasper laughed softly.

"It seemed to me just the place to suit you. It is mild and clear, and

just what you want. Besides, I remember a little place near the sea, a

sheltered village in a bay--Carlyon they call it--that would just do

for us. What do you say? Let me see, where is the map?"

He went and got a map and spreading it out on the table, called to

Stella.

"This is it," he said, then in a low voice he whispered: "There is a

pretty, secluded little church there, Stella. Why should we not be

married there?"

She started, and her hand fell on the map.

"I am thinking of you, my darling," he said. "For my part I should like

to be married here----"

"No, not here," she faltered, as she thought of standing before the

altar in the Wyndward Church and seeing the white walls of the Hall as

she uttered her marriage vow. "Not here."

"I understand," he said. "Then why not there? Your uncle could come

down for that, I think."

She did not speak, and with a smile of satisfaction he folded the map.

"It is all settled," he said. "We go to Carlyon. You will come down for

a little while, I hope, sir. We shall want you."

The old man pushed the white hair off his forehead.

"Eh?" he asked. "What for?"

"To give Stella away," replied Jasper. "She has promised to marry me

there."

The old man looked at her.

"Why not here?" he asked, naturally, but Stella shook her head.

"Very well," he said. "It is a strange fancy, but girls are fanciful.

Off you go, then, and don't make more fuss than you can help."

So Stella's fate was settled, and the day, the fatal day, loomed darkly

before her.