"Stay," he murmured.
She hesitated a second, then stood with downcast eyes, which, hidden as they were, seemed to feel his ardent gaze fixed upon her.
He still touched the keys gently, and then, without further prelude, he began in a low voice:
"I wandered down the valley in the eventide,
The birds were singing sweetly in the summer air,
The river glided murm'ring to the ocean wide,
But still no peace was there;
For love lay lurking in the ferny brake;
I saw him lying with his bow beside;
He cried, 'Sweetheart, we will never, never part!'
By the river in the valley at the eventide.
"I fled to the mountains, to the clouds and mist,
Where the eagle and the hawk share their solitary throne;
'Here at least,' I cried, 'wicked love I can deride,
He will leave me here at peace alone.'
But love lay lurking in the clouds and mist;
I heard him singing sweetly on the mountain side,
''Tis all in vain you fly, for everywhere am I,
In every quiet valley, on every mountain side.'"
With his eyes fixed on hers, he sang as if every word were addressed to her; his voice was like a flute, mellow and clear, and musical, but it was not the voice but the words that seemed to sink into Stella's heart as she listened. It seemed to her as if he dared her to fly, to seek safety from him—his love, he seemed to say, would pursue her in every quiet valley, on every mountain side.
For a moment she forgot Lady Lenore, forgot everything; she felt helpless beneath the spell of those dark eyes, the musical voice; her head drooped, her eyes closed.
"'Tis all in vain you fly, for everywhere am I, in every quiet valley, on every mountain side."
Was it to be so with her? Would his presence haunt her ever and everywhere?
With a start she turned from him and glided swiftly to the couch as if seeking protection.