Then he stood bareheaded, and the last Stella saw was the light of tender, passionate love burning in his dark eyes.
She sank back in the furthermost corner of the fly in silent, rapt reflection. Was it all a dream? Was it only a trick of fancy, or did she feel his passionate kisses on her lips and face entangled in her hair. Had she really heard Lord Leycester Wyndward declare that he loved her?
"Are you asleep, Stella?" said her uncle, and she started.
"No, not asleep, dear," she said. "But—but tired and so happy!" The word slipped out before she was aware of it.
But the unsuspecting recluse did not notice the thrill of joy in the tone of her reply.
"Ah, yes, just so, I daresay. It was something new and strange to you. It is a beautiful place. By the way, what do you think of Lady Lenore?"
Stella started.
"Oh, she is very beautiful, and as wonderful as you said, dear," she murmured.
"Yes, isn't she. She will make a grand countess, will she not?"
"What!" said Stella.