“I should hope not,” said Mrs. Ebley severely, and dropped the subject.

“To think of this charming rosebud of a girl going to marry Eustace Medlicott—­insufferable, conceited prig, I remember him at Oxford,” the cousin was musing to himself.  “Lord Carford is an old stick-in-the-mud, or he would have prevented that.  She is his own niece, and one can see by her frock that the poor child never even goes to London.”

At this moment they saw the Russian Count putting his heels together and bowing himself out of the circle of his Royalties; and straight as a dart he came over to where their group was standing, and whispered in the cousin’s—­Mr. Deanwood’s ear—­who then asked if he might present Count Roumovski to the Aunt Caroline and the rest.

When this ceremony was over Mrs. Ebley found herself conversing with her whilom object of contempt, and coming gradually under the influence of his wonderful charm, while Stella stood there trembling with the wildest excitement she had yet known.  The words of Eustace, her betrothed, talking to her, carried no meaning to her brain, her whole intelligence was strung up to catch what the others were saying.

With great dexterity the Russian presently made the conversation general, and drew her into it, and then he said with composure that the Gardens were illuminated—­and, as it was such a very hot night, would mademoiselle like to take a turn that way, to have some refreshment?  At the same moment, Mr. Deanwood gave Mrs. Ebley his arm, and they all moved forward—­followed by Canon Ebley and the Rev. Eustace Medlicott, with no great joy upon his face.

Stella, meanwhile, felt herself being drawn rapidly ahead, and so maneuvered that in a moment or two they had completely lost sight of the rest of the relations, and were practically alone in a crowd.

“At last!” Count Roumovski whispered, “even I, who am generally calm, was beginning to feel I should rush over, throw prudence to the winds and—­” then he stopped abruptly, and Stella felt her heart thump in her throat, while her little hand on his arm was pressed against his side.

They made the pretense of taking some refreshment at the buffet, and then went toward the open doors of the garden.  The part all round the house was illuminated, and numbers of people strolled about, the night was deliciously warm.  Count Roumovski seemed to know the paths, for he drew his companion to a seat just beyond the radius of the lights, and they sat down upon a bench under a giant tree.  He had not spoken a word, but now he leaned back and deliberately looked into her eyes, while his voice, with vibrations of feeling in it which thrilled Stella, whispered in her ear: 

“It cannot go on, of course—­you agree with me about that, do you not?”

“What cannot go on?” she asked, to gain time to recover her composure.

“This situation,” he answered.  “I am sure now that I love you—­and I want to teach you a number of things, first in importance being that you shall love me.”