"Am I not keeping you all waiting?" he said.
Lady Longford shook her head.
"No; we are waiting for Lenore."
"Then she is not here!" thought Stella.
"Oh, Lenore!" he said, with a smile. "Well, no one will dare to scold her."
As he spoke the curtain parted, and someone entered.
Framed by the curtain that fell behind her in crimson folds stood a girl—not yet a woman, for all her twenty-three years—of wonderful beauty, with deep golden hair and violet eyes.
Stella knew her at once from her uncle's description, but it was not the beauty that surprised her and made her start; it was something more than that. It was the nameless, indescribable charm which surrounded her; it was the grace which distinguished her figure, her very attitude.
She stood a moment, with a faint half-smile upon her lips, looking round; then she glided with a peculiar movement, that struck Stella as grace itself, to Lady Wyndward, and bent her head down to the countess.
Stella could not hear what she said, but she knew that she was apologizing for her tardiness by the way the earl, who was standing by, smiled at her. Yes, evidently Lady Lenore would not be scolded for keeping dinner waiting.