ver the leaves, and
wearily dropped the wonderful novel on her lap. "I can't attend to it,"
she said. "My mind is too full of my own thoughts."

"About Romayne?" said her mother.

"No. When I think of my husband now, I almost wish I had his confidence
in Priests and Retreats. The conviction grows on me, mama, that my worst
troubles are still to come. When I was younger, I don't remember being
tormented by presentiments of any kind. Did I ever talk of presentiments
to you, in the bygone days?"

"If you had done anything of the sort, my love (excuse me, if I speak
plainly), I should have said, 'Stella, your liver is out of order'; and
I should have opened the family medicine-chest. I will only say now send
for the carriage; let us go to a morning concert, dine at a restaurant,
and finish the evening at the play."

This characteristic proposal was entirely thrown away on Stella. She was
absorbed in pursuing her own train of thought. "I almost wish I had told
Lewis," she said to herself absently.

"Told him of what, my dear?"

"Of what happened to me with Winterfield."

Mrs. Eyrecourt's faded eyes opened wide in astonishment.

"Do you really mean it?" she asked.

"I do, indeed."

"Are you actually simple enough, Stella, to think that a man of
Romayne's temper would have made you his wife if you had told him of the
Brussels marriage?"

"Why not?"

"Why not! Would Romayne--would any man--believe that you really did part
from Winterfield at the church door? Considering that you are a married
woman, your innocence, my sweet child, is a perfect phenomenon! It's
well there were wiser people than you to keep your secret."

"Don't speak too positively, mama. Lewis may find it out yet."

"Is that one of your presentiments?"

"Yes."

"How is he to find it out, if you please?"

"I am afraid, through Father Benwell. Yes! yes! I know you only think
him a fawning old hypocrite--you don't fear him as I do. Nothing will
persuade me that zeal for his religion is the motive under which that
man acts in devoting himself to Romayne. He has some abominable object
in view, and his eyes tell me that I am concerned in it."

Mrs. Eyrecourt burst out laughing.

"What is there to laugh at?" Stella asked.

"I declare, my dear, there is something absolutely provoking in your
utter want of knowledge of the world! When you are puzzled to account
for anything remarkable in a clergyman's conduct (I don't care, my
poor child, to w