oolish ones, this time, was
certainly more than five. However, they looked well. The Archbishop
proposed the health of the bride and bridegroom; so sweetly pathetic.
Some of us cried. I thought of my daughter. Oh, if I could live to see
Stella the central attraction, so to speak, of such a wedding as that.
Only I would have twelve bridesmaids at least, and beat the blue and
silver with green and gold. Trying to the complexion, you will say. But
there are artificial improvements. At least, I am told so. What a house
this would be--a broad hint, isn't it, dear Lady Loring?--what a house
for a wedding, with the drawing-room to assemble in and the picture
gallery for the breakfast. I know the Archbishop. My darling, he
shall marry you. Why _don't_ you go into the next room? Ah, that
constitutional indolence. If you only had my energy, as I used to say to
your poor father. _Will_ you go? Yes, dear Lady Loring, I should like a
glass of champagne, and another of those delicious chicken sandwiches.
If you don't go, Stella, I shall forget every consideration of
propriety, and, big as you are, I shall push you out."

Stella yielded to necessity. "Keep her quiet, if you can," she whispered
to Lady Loring, in the moment of silence that followed. Even Mrs.
Eyrecourt was not able to talk while she was drinking champagne.

In the next room Stella found Romayne. He looked careworn and irritable,
but brightened directly when she approached him.

"My mother has been speaking to you," she said. "I am afraid--"

He stopped her there. "She _is_ your mother," he interposed, kindly.
"Don't think that I am ungrateful enough to forget that."

She took his arm, and looked at him with all her heart in her eyes.
"Come into a quieter room," she whispered.

Romayne led her away. Neither of them noticed Penrose as they left the
room.

He had not moved since Stella had spoken to him. There he remained in
his corner, absorbed in thought--and not in happy thought, as his face
would have plainly betrayed to any one who had cared to look at him.
His eyes sadly followed the retiring figures of Stella and Romayne. The
color rose on his haggard cheeks. Like most men who are accustomed to
live alone, he had the habit, when he was strongly excited, of speaking
to himself. "No," he said, as the unacknowledged lovers disappeared
through the door, "it is an insult to ask me to do it!" He turned the
other way, escaped Lady Loring's notice in the reception-r