"I wonder what you would say, what you would think, uncle," she murmured, with a little laugh that bordered on the hysterical, "if I were to do anything wrong—if I were to deceive you in anything?"
He stepped back to look at his picture.
"I should say, my dear, that the last shred of faith and trust in women to which I have clung had given way, and landed me in despair."
"No, no! Don't say that!" she said, quickly.
He looked at her with a sad smile.
"My dear," he answered, "I do not speak without cause. I have reason to be incredulous as to the faith and honesty of women. But my trust in you is as limitless as the sky yonder. I don't think you will destroy it, Stella," and he turned to his picture again.
The tears came into Stella's eyes, and she clung to his arm in silent remorse.
"Uncle!" she said, brokenly, then she stopped.
The clock chimed the half-hour; it was time that she started, if she intended to obey Leycester.