"For another," he continued, "I saved him for your sake."
She moistened her parched lips and raised her eyes.
"I—I am very grateful," she murmured.
His face flushed slightly.
"I did not seek your gratitude; I did not desire that you should even know that I had done this thing. Neither he nor you would ever have known it, but—but for this that has happened. It would have gone down with me into my grave—a secret. It would have done so, although you had refused me your love, although you should have given your heart to another. If"—and he paused—"if that other had been a man worthy of you." Stella's face flushed, and her eyes flashed, but she remembered all that he had done, and averted her gaze from him. "If that other had been one likely to have insured your happiness, I would have gone my way and remained silent; but it is not so. This man, this Lord Leycester, is one who will effect your ruin, one from whom I must—I will—save you. It is he who rendered this disclosure necessary."
He was silent, and Stella stood, her eyes bent on the ground. Even yet she did not realize the power he held over her—over those she loved.
"I am very grateful," she said at last. "I am fully sensible of all that you have done for us, and I am sorry that—that I should have spoken as I did, though"—and she raised her eyes with a sudden frank wistfulness—"I was much provoked."
"What was I to do?" he asked. She shook her head. "Could I stand idle and see you drift to destruction?"
"I shall not go to destruction," she said, with a troubled look. "You do not know Lord Leycester—you do not know—but we will not speak of that," she broke off, suddenly. "I will go now, please. I am very grateful, and—and—I hope you will forgive all that has passed!"