"I will think. I will make a plan. We shall want some one to help us."
He thought a moment, then he looked up with a smile.
"I know! It shall be—Frank!"
"Frank!" exclaimed Stella.
He nodded.
"Yes, I like him. I like him because he likes you. Stella, that boy adores you."
Stella smiled.
"He is a dear good boy."
"He shall help us. He shall be our Mercury, and carry messages. Do you know, Stella, that you and I have never written to each other since we have been engaged? When I was in London, I longed for some memento of you, some written line, something you had touched. You will write now, darling, and Frank shall act as messenger. I will think it all out, and send you word, if I do not see you. Frank and I must be good friends. It is quite true that the boy adores you. I can see it in his eyes. That is no wonder—anybody, everybody who knows you must adore you, my darling."
Something has been said of the infinite charm possessed by Leycester, a charm quite irresistible when he chose to exert it. This morning he exerted it to the utmost extent. Stella felt in dreamland and under a spell. If he had asked her to go to land and marry him there and then—if he had asked her to follow him to the ends of the world, she would have felt bound to so follow him. She forgot time and place and everything as she listened to him, for a time at least, but as the boat drifted down to the spot where they had left Frank, she remembered the boy, and looked up with a start.