Only a girl's love
taken her in his arms and made her love him. And as she thought, how
small, how mean this other man seemed to her!
"I gave you mine--I meant to give you more," he continued; "I want to
do something worthy of your love. I am--I am not a rich man, Stella--I
have no title--as yet----"
Stella's eyes flashed for a moment, and her lips closed. It was an
unlucky speech for him.
"No, not yet; but I shall have riches and title--I have set my mind
on them, and there is nothing that I have set my mind on that I have
not got, or will not get--nothing!" he repeated, with almost fierce
intensity.
Still she did not speak. Like a bird charmed, fascinated by a snake,
she stood, listening though every word was torture to her.
"I have set my mind on winning your love, Stella. I love you as few men
love, with all my heart and soul. There is nothing I would not do to
win you, there is nothing I would--pause at."
A faint shudder stole through her; and he saw it, and added, quickly:
"I would do anything to make you happy--move heaven and earth to see
you always smiling as you smiled this morning. Stella, I love you! What
have you to say to me?"
He stopped, white and seemingly exhausted, his thin lips tightly
compressed, his whole frame quivering.
CHAPTER XXII.
Stella, turned her eyes upon him, and something like pity took
possession of her for a moment. It was a womanly feeling, and it
softened her reply.
"I--am very sorry," she said, in a low voice.
"Sorry!" he repeated, hoarsely, quickly. "Do not say that!"
"Yes--I am very sorry," she repeated. "I--I--did not know----"
"Did not know that I loved you!" he retorted, almost sharply. "Were you
blind? Every word, every look of mine would have told you, if you had
cared to know----"
Her face flushed, and she raised her eyes to his with a flash of
indignation.
"I did not know!" she breathed.
"Forgive me!" he pleaded hoarsely. "I--I am very unfortunate. I offend
and anger you! I told you that I should not be able to say what I had
to say with credit to myself. Pray forgive me. I meant that though I
tried to hide my love, it must have betrayed itself. How could it be
otherwise? Stella, have you no other word for me?"
"None," she said, looking away. "I am very sorry. I did not know. But
it could not have been. Never."
He stood regarding her, his breath coming in long gasps.
"You mean you never can love me?" he asked.
Stella raised her eyes.
"Yes," she said.
His hand closed over the knife until the back of the blade pressed
deeply into the quivering palm.
"Never is--is a long day," he said, hoarsely. "Do not say 'never.' I
will be patient; see, I am patient, I am calm now, and will not offend
you again! I will be patient and wait; I will wait for years, if you
will but give me hope--if you will but try to love me a little!"
Stella's face paled, and her lips quivered.
"I cannot," she said, in a low voice. "You--you do not understand.
One cannot teach oneself to love--cannot _try_. It is impossible.
Besides--you do not know what you ask. You do not understand!"
"Do I not?" he said, and a bitter sneer curled the thin lips. "I do
understand. I know--I have a suspicion of the reason why you answer me
like this."
Stella's face burnt for a moment, then went pale, but her eyes met his
steadily.
"There is something behind your refusal; no girl would speak as you
do unless there was something behind. There is someone else. Am I not
right?"
"You have no right to ask me!" said Stella, firmly.
"My love gives me the right to ask. But I need not put the question,
and there is no necessity for you to answer. If you have been blind, I
have not. I have seen and noted, and I tell you, I tell you plainly,
that what you hope for cannot be. I say cannot--shall not be!" he
added, between his closed teeth.
Stella's eyes flashed as she stood before him glorious in her
loveliness.
"Have you finished?" she asked.
He was silent, regarding her watchfully.
"If you have finished, Mr. Adelstone, I will leave you."
"Stay," he said, and he stood in the path so that she could not pass
him, "Stay one moment. I will not ask you to reconsider your reply.
I will only ask you to forgive me." His voice grew hoarse, and his
eyes drooped. "Yes, I will beg you to forgive me. Think of what I am
suffering, and you will not refuse me that. Forgive me, Stella--Miss
Etheridge! I have been wrong, mad, and brutal; but it has sprung from
the depth of my love; I am not altogether to blame. Will you say that
you will forgive me, and that--that we remain friends?"
Stella paused.
He watched her eagerly.
"If--if," he said quickly, before she could speak--"if you will let
this pass as if it had not been--if you will forget all I have said--I
will promise not to offend again. Do not let us part--do not send me
away never to see you again. I am an old friend of your uncle's; I
should not like to lose his friendship; I think I may say that he would
miss mine. Let us be friends, Miss Etheridge."
Stella inclined her head.
"Thank you, thank you," he said, meekly, tremulously; "I shall be
very grateful for your friendship, Miss Stella. I will keep the rose
to remind me of your forbearance," and he was patting the rose in his
coat, when Stella with a start stretched out her hand.
"No! give it me back, please," she said.
He stood eying her.
"Let me keep it," he said; "it is a little thing."
"No!" she said, firmly, and her face burnt. "You must not keep it. I--I
did not think when I gave it to you! Give it me back, please," and she
held out her hand.
He still hesitated, and Stella, overstrained, made a step toward him.
"Give it me," she said. "I must--I will have it!"
An angry flush came on his face, and he held the rose from her.
"It is mine," he said. "You gave it to me; I cannot give it back."
The words had scarcely left his lips, when the rose was dashed from his
hand, and Frank stood white and panting between them.
"How dare you!" he gasped, passionately, his hands clinched, his eyes
gleaming fiercely upon the white face. "How dare you!" and with a
savage exclamation the boy dashed his foot on the flower, and ground it
under his heel.
The action, so full of scornful defiance, spurred Jasper back to
consciousness. With a smothered oath he grasped the boy's shoulders.
Frank turned upon him with the savage ferocity of a wild animal, with
upraised arm. Then, suddenly, like a lightning flash, Jasper's face
changed and a convulsive smile forced itself upon his lips.
He caught the arm and held it, and smiled down at him.
"My dear Frank," he murmured. "What is the matter?"
So sudden was the change, so unexpected, that Stella, who had caught
the boy's other arm, stood transfixed.
Frank gasped.
"What did you mean by keeping the rose?" he burst out.
Jasper laughed softly.
"Oh, I see!" he said, nodding with amused playfulness. "I see. You
were watching--from the window, perhaps, eh?" and he shook his arm
playfully. "And like a great many other spectators, took jest for
earnest! Impetuous boy!"
Frank looked at the pale, smiling face, and at Stella's downcast one.
"Is it true?" he asked Stella, bluntly.
"Oh, come!" said Jasper, reproachfully. "Isn't that rather rude? But I
must forgive you, and I do it easily, my dear Frank, when I remember
that your sudden onslaught was prompted by a desire to champion Miss
Stella! Now come, you owe me a rose, go and cut me one, and we will be
friends--great friends, will we not?"
Frank slid from his grasp, but stood eying him suspiciously.
"You will not?" said Jasper. "Still uncertain lest it should have been
sober earnest? Then I will cut one for myself. May I?" and he smiled at
Stella.
Stella did not speak, but she inclined her head.
Jasper went to one of the standards and cut a red rose deliberately and
carefully, and placed it in his coat, then he cut another, and with a
smile held it to Stella.
"Will that do instead of the one the stupid boy has spoiled?" he said,
laughing.
Stella would have liked to refuse it, but Frank's eyes were upon her.
Slowly she held out her hand and took the rose.
A smile of triumph glittered for a moment in Jasper's eyes, then he put
his hand on Frank's shoulder.
"My dear Frank," he said, in a soft voice, "you must be careful; you
must repress that impulsive temper of yours, must he not?" and he
turned to Stella and held out his hand. "Good-bye! It is so dangerous,
you know," he murmured, holding Stella's hand, but keeping his smiling
eyes fixed on the boy's face. "Why, some of these days you will be
doing someone an injury and find yourself in prison, doing as they call
it, six months' hard labor, like a common thief--or forger!" and he
laughed, as if it were the best joke in the world.
Not so Frank. As the bantering words left the thin, smiling lips, Frank
recoiled suddenly, and his face went white.
Jasper looked at him.
"And now you are sorry?" he said. "Tell me it was only your fun! Why,
my dear boy, you wear your heart on your sleeve! Well, if you would
really like to beg my pardon, you may do it."
The boy turned his white face toward him.
"I--beg--your--pardon," he said, as if every word cost him an agony,
and then, with a sudden twitch of the face, he turned and went slowly
with bent head toward the house.
Jasper looked after him with a steely, cruel glitter in his eyes, and
he laughed softly.
"Dear boy!" he murmured; "I have taken so fond a liking for him, and
this only deepens it! He did it for your sake. You did not think I
meant to keep the rose! No; I should have given it to you! But I may
keep this! I will! to remind me of your promise that we may still be
friends!"
And he let her hand go, and walked away.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Lord Leycester was on fire as he strode up the hill to the Hall, and
that notwithstanding he was wet to the skin. He was on fire with love.
He swore to himself, as he climbed up the slope, that there was no
one like his Stella, no one so beautiful, so lovable and sweet as the
dark-eyed girl who had stolen his heart from him that moonlight night
in the lane.
And he also vowed that he would wait no longer for the inestimable
treasure, the exquisite happiness that lay within his grasp.
His great wealth, his time honored title seemed as nothing to him
compared with the thought of possessing the first real love of his life.
He smiled rather seriously as he pictured his father's anger, his
mother's dismay and despair, and Lil's, dear Lilian's, grief; but it
was a smile, though a serious one.
"They will get over it when it has once been done. After all, barring
that she has no title and no money--neither of which are wanted, by the
way--she is as delightful a daughter-in-law as any mother or father
could wish for. Yes; I'll do it!"
But how? that was the question.
"There is no Gretna Green nowadays," he pondered, regretfully. "I wish
there were! A ride to the border, with my darling by my side, nestling
close to me all the way with mingled love and alarm, would be worth
taking. A man can't very well put up the banns in any out-of-the-way
place, because there are few out-of-the-way places where they
haven't heard of us Wyndwards. By Jove!" he muttered, with a little
start--"there is a special license. I was almost forgetting that! That
comes of not being used to being married. A special license!" and
pondering deeply he reached the house.
The party at the hall was very small indeed now, but Lady Lenore and
Lord Charles still remained. Lenore had once or twice declared that she
must go, but Lady Wyndward had entreated her to stay.
"Do not go, Lenore," she had said, with gentle significance. "You
know--you must know that we count upon you."