The moment he was gone, she drew her daughter into a quiet corner.  “Don’t be frightened, Stella.  That sly old person has some interest in trying to find out about Winterfield.  Do you know why?”

“Indeed I don’t, mamma.  I hate him!”

“Oh, hush! hush!  Hate him as much as you like; but always be civil to him.  Tell me—­have you been in the conservatory with Romayne?”

“Yes.”

“All going on well?”

“Yes.”

“My sweet child!  Dear, dear me, the wine has done you no good; you’re as pale as ever.  Is it that priest?  Oh, pooh, pooh, leave Father Benwell to me.”

CHAPTER IV.

IN THE SMALL HOURS.

WHEN Stella left the conservatory, the attraction of the ball for
Romayne was at an end.  He went back to his rooms at the hotel.

Penrose was waiting to speak to him.  Romayne noticed signs of suppressed agitation in his secretary’s face.  “Has anything happened?” he inquired.

“Nothing of any importance,” Penrose answered, in sad subdued tones.  “I only wanted to ask you for leave of absence.”

“Certainly.  Is it for a long time?”

Penrose hesitated.  “You have a new life opening before you,” he said.  “If your experience of that life is—­as I hope and pray it may be—­a happy one, you will need me no longer; we may not meet again.”  His voice began to tremble; he could say no more.

“Not meet again?” Romayne repeated.  “My dear Penrose, if you forget how many happy days I owe to your companionship, my memory is to be trusted.  Do you really know what my new life is to be?  Shall I tell you what I have said to Stella to-night?”

Penrose lifted his hand with a gesture of entreaty.

“Not a word!” he said, eagerly.  “Do me one more kindness—­leave me to be prepared (as I am prepared) for the change that is to come, without any confidence on your part to enlighten me further.  Don’t think me ungrateful.  I have reasons for saying what I have just said—­I cannot mention what they are—­I can only tell you they are serious reasons.  You have spoken of my devotion to you.  If you wish to reward me a hundred-fold more than I deserve, bear in mind our conversations on religion, and keep the books I asked you to read as gifts from a friend who loves you with his whole heart.  No new duties that you can undertake are incompatible with the higher interests of your soul.  Think of me sometimes.  When I leave you I go back to a lonely life.  My poor heart is full of your brotherly kindness at this last moment when I may be saying good-by forever.  And what is my one consolation?  What helps me to bear my hard lot?  The Faith that I hold!  Remember that, Romayne.  If there comes a time of sorrow in the future, remember that.”

Romayne was more than surprised, he was shocked.  “Why must you leave me?” he asked.

“It is best for you and for her,” said Penrose, “that I should withdraw myself from your new life.”