Is he with you now in London?”
“No.”
“I am sorry to hear it.
You ought to have some devoted friend always near you.”
She spoke very earnestly.
Romayne shrank, with a strange shyness, from letting her see how her sympathy affected him.
He answered lightly.
“You go almost as far as my good friend there reading the newspaper,” he said.
“Lord Loring doesn’t scruple to tell me that I ought to marry.
I know he speaks with a sincere interest in my welfare. He little thinks how he distresses me.”
“Why should he distress you?”
“He reminds me—live as long as I may—that I must live alone.
Can I ask a woman to share such a dreary life as mine?
It would be selfish, it would be cruel; I should deservedly pay the penalty of allowing my wife to sacrifice herself.
The time would come when she would repent having married me.”
Stella rose.
Her eyes rested on him with a look of gentle remonstrance.
“I think you hardly do women justice,” she said softly.
“Perhaps some day a woman may induce you to change your opinion.”
She crossed the room to the piano.
“You must be tired of playing, Adelaide,” she said, putting her hand caressingly on Lady Loring’s shoulder.
“Will you sing, Stella?”
She sighed, and turned away.
“Not to-night,” she answered.
Romayne took his leave rather hurriedly.
He seemed to be out of spirits and eager to get away.
Lord Loring accompanied his guest to the door.
“You look sad and careworn,” he said. “Do you regret having left your books to pass an evening with us?”
Romayne looked up absently, and answered,
“I don’t know yet.”
Returning to report this extraordinary reply to his wife and Stella, Lord Loring found the drawing-room empty.
Eager for a little private conversation, the two ladies had gone upstairs.
“Well?” said Lady Loring, as they sat together over the fire.
“What did he say?”
Stella only repeated what he had said before she rose and left him.
“What is there in Mr. Romayne’s life,” she asked, “which made him say that he would be selfish and cruel if he expected a woman to marry him?
It must be something more than mere illness.
If he had committed a crime he could not have spoken more strongly.
Do you know what it is?”
Lady Loring looked uneasy.
“I promised my husband to keep it a secret from everybody,” she said.
“It is nothing degrading, Adelaide—I am sure of that.”
“And you are right, my dear.
I can understand that he has surprised and disappointed you; but, if you knew his motives—” she stopped and looked earnestly at Stella.
“They say,” she went on, “the love that lasts longest is the love of slowest growth.
This feeling of yours for Romayne is of sudden growth.
Are you very sure that your whole heart is given to a man of whom you know little?”
“I know that I love him,” said Stella simply.
“Even though he doesn’t seem as yet to love you?” Lady Loring asked.
“All the more because he doesn’t.