discover a subject which
might interest him, she overcame her antipathy to the spiritual director
of the household. "Is Father Benwell coming to us to-night?" she
inquired.

"He will certainly be here, Miss Eyrecourt, if he can get back to London
in time."

"Has he been long away?"

"Nearly a week."

Not knowing what else to say, she still paid Penrose the compliment of
feigning an interest in Father Benwell.

"Has he a long journey to make in returning to London?" she asked.

"Yes--all the way from Devonshire."

"From South Devonshire?"

"No. North Devonshire--Clovelly."

The smile suddenly left her face. She put another question--without
quite concealing the effort that it cost her, or the anxiety with which
she waited for the reply.

"I know something of the neighborhood of Clovelly," she said. "I wonder
whether Father Benwell is visiting any friends of mine there?"

"I am not able to say, Miss Eyrecourt. The reverend Father's letters are
forwarded to the hotel--I know no more than that."

With a gentle inclination of her head, she turned toward other
guests--looked back--and with a last little courteous attention offered
to him, said, "If you like music, Mr. Penrose, I advise you to go to the
picture gallery. They are going to play a Quartet by Mozart."

Penrose thanked her, noticing that her voice and manner had become
strangely subdued. She made her way back to the room in which the
hostess received her guests. Lady Loring was, for the moment, alone,
resting on a sofa. Stella stooped over her, and spoke in cautiously
lowered tones.

"If Father Benwell comes here to-night," she said, "try to find out what
he has been doing at Clovelly."

"Clovelly?" Lady Loring repeated. "Is that the village near
Winterfield's house?"

"Yes."

CHAPTER II.

THE QUESTION OF MARRIAGE.

As Stella answered Lady Loring, she was smartly tapped on the shoulder
by an eager guest with a fan.

The guest was a very little woman, with twinkling eyes and a perpetual
smile. Nature, corrected by powder and paint, was liberally displayed
in her arms, her bosom, and the upper part of her back. Such clothes
as she wore, defective perhaps in quantity, were in quality absolutely
perfect. More adorable color, shape, and workmanship never appeared,
even in a milliner's picture-book. Her light hair was dressed with a
fringe and ringlets, on the pattern which the portraits of the time of
Charles the Second have made famili