Poor Stella!
Lord Leicester, left alone, fell to pacing the room, his brow bent, his mind in a turmoil.
He loved his mother with a passionate devotion, part and parcel of his nature. Every word she had said had sunk into his mind; he loved her, and he knew her; he knew that she would rather die than give her consent to his marriage with such an one as Stella, pure and good and sweet though she was.
He was greatly troubled, but he stood firm.
"Come what will," he murmured, "I cannot part with her. She is my treasure and pearl of great price, and I have not passed her by. My darling!"
Suddenly, breaking into his reverie, came a knock at the door.
He went to open it but it opened before he could reach it, and Lord Charles walked in.
There was a smile on his handsome, light-hearted face, which barely hid an expression of affectionate sympathy.
"Anything the matter, old man?" he said, closing the door.
"Yes—no—not much—why?" said Leycester, forcing a smile.