Now it was a gay time, but still the countess made no sign. The Wyndwards were away on the continent in the winter, and in the spring they went down to the Hall. Letters came from Lilian regularly, and she grew more pathetic as time rolled on, she was pining for Leycester. Stella urged him to sink his pride and go down to the Hall, but he would not.
"Where I go I take my wife," he said, in his quiet way, and Stella knew that it was useless to urge him.
But one day when it chanced that Stella was at home resting after a grand ball at which she had reigned supreme, a brougham drove up to the door, and while she was just preparing to say "not at home," the servant opened the door of the boudoir, and there stood the tall, graceful, lady-like figure of Lilian.
Stella sprang forward and caught her in her arms, with a cry that brought Leycester bounding up-stairs.
The two girls clung to each other for at least five minutes, crying softly, and uttering little piteous monosyllables, after the manner of their kind; then Lilian turned to Leycester.
"Oh, Ley, don't be angry. I've come!" she cried.
"So I see, Lil," he said, kissing her. "And how glad we are I need not say."
"And she shall never go again, shall she?" exclaimed Stella, with her arm round the fragile form.
"Why, I don't mean to!" said Lilian, piteously. "You won't send me away, will you, Stella? I can't live without him, I can't indeed. You will let me stay, won't you? I shan't be in the way. I'll creep into a corner, and efface myself; and I shan't be very much trouble, because I am so much stronger now, and—oh, you will let me stay?"
There is no need to set down in hard, cold, black letters their answer.