Before this enjoyable ball was over it was no wonder that hearts, adoration and homes were silently or in hurried, eager whispers, laid humbly upon the altar of love, and many an ardent lover went home that night to dream of heavenly raptures or exactly the reverse.
To Stella, however, the sentiment of all absorbing passion was, as yet unknown. Life was at its best and brightest with her, and the brief, inexplicable sensation of fear which she had felt at Maurice's touch, was the only cloud, small and visionary as it was, that in any way darkened the skies of her perfect happiness.
The fog was still resting heavily upon the earth when the last carriage rolled away and Maurice walked with his mother up the broad stairs to spend his first night in ten years beneath the parental roof.
Some way Stella lingered longer than usual that night over her adieux to Sir Frederic Atherton, but the fault, if fault it was, could not be laid at her door.
His carriage was the last and if he held her hand a moment longer than usual, she reasoned that, it was only because he had known her from childhood and now, at her debut into the world of womanly duties and pleasures, it was only natural that he should feel a desire to congratulate and perhaps advise her for her future welfare.
It was with this idea in mind that she let her hand rest quietly in his and raised her eyes so confidently to his face.
What she saw there was neither the courteous smile of congratulation or the benign bearing of one about to offer sage admonition. Instead, she saw a look of such ineffable tenderness bent upon her, that to her inmost soul there came an instantaneous sense of security, protection and sacred confidence, and tears suffused her lovely eyes in a blinding flood of gratitude which she was powerless to control.
Another instant and his lips had touched her golden hair, and the sound of the departing carriage told her he was gone.
With a curious feeling of loneliness and amazement thereat, she followed, almost in a dream, to Mrs. Sinclair's door.
Stella said good night as soon as possible, thinking that in all probability mother and son would wish to converse on many topics of interest, but as she passed from the room she turned and smiling sweetly, said, "I am sorry to usurp your old quarters in the west wing, Maurice, but we thought I had better not change as the south room might be more grateful to your warm country tastes."