Stella held out her hand, her face crimson with a warm blush, her eyes downcast.
"How do you do, Stel—Miss Etheridge?" he said, pressing her hand; then he glanced at Frank.
"This is my cousin, Frank," said Stella. "Frank Etheridge."
Frank, with his blue eyes wide open with awe, looked up at the handsome face of the "awful swell," and bowed respectfully; but Lord Leycester held out his hand, and smiled at him—the rare sweet smile.
"How do you do, Mr. Etheridge?" he said, warmly, and at the greeting the boy's heart leaped up and his face flushed. "I am very glad to meet you," went on Leycester, in his frank way—just the way to enslave a boy—"very glad, indeed, for I was feeling bored to death with rod and line. Are you fond of fishing? Will you come for a row? Do you think you can persuade your cousin to accompany us?"
Frank looked up eagerly at Stella, who stood, her beautiful face downcast and grave, but for the little tremulous smile of happiness which shone in the dark eyes and played about the lips.
"Do, Stella!" he said, "do let us go!"
Stella looked up with a smile, and Lord Leycester helped her into the boat.
"You can row?" he said to Frank.
"Yes," said Frank, eagerly, "I can row."