'I shall always think of it as the Stella rose. It is so starry, and seems to look abroad with such fearless inquiry,' he said slowly.
At the words a deep damask flush mounted into her cheeks and remained there. Her deep lustrous eyes were, in truth, shining like twin stars. The pale-blue tea-gown she wore, with a cluster of white fairy-roses at the throat, threw the pure tints of her face and the soft brilliancy of her eyes into clear relief.
'You think they have an inquiring look? Yes, perhaps, something like the wide-opened eyes of calves, or the beaks of hungry sparrows.'
How angry she was at herself to find her face flushing more hotly, her fingers getting more tremulous, her heart beating more wildly!
'Give me one of them, Stella.'
She held out one to him, and their hands met. He took the rose, but did not release her hand.
'Were you quite unconscious when I reached you yesterday?' he said in a low voice.
But she could not speak; her reply was a long, shuddering sigh.
'You know my secret; and you are not angry, Stella?'
His voice was very agitated; and, as for her, she seemed to be enveloped in a throbbing haze through which she could not clearly see nor hear.