“I did well, then.  And because of a silly convention you would ruin all your life by going on with these ways—­it is unthinkable!” and his deep voice vibrated with feeling.  “It is a mistake, that is all, and can be rectified,—­if you were already married to this man I would not plead so, because then you would have crossed the Rubicon, and assumed responsibilities which you would have to accept or suffer the consequences.  But this preliminary bond can be broken without hurt to either side.  A man of the good clergyman’s type will not suffer in his emotions at the loss of you—­he suffices unto himself for those; his vanity will be wounded—­that is all.  And surely it is better that should gall for a little than that you should spoil your life.  Sweet flower, realize yourself these things—­that sunny hair and that beautiful skin and those velvet eyes were made for the joy and glory of a man—­not for temptations to a strict priest, who would resent their power as a sin every time he felt himself influenced by their charm.  Gods above! he would not know what to do with you, heart of me!”

Stella was thrilling with exquisite emotion, but the influence of her strict and narrow bringing up could not be quite overcome in these few moments.  She longed to be convinced, and yet some altruistic sentiment made her feel still some qualms and misgivings.  If she should be causing Eustace great pain by breaking her engagement; if it were very wrong to go against her uncle and aunt—­especially her Aunt Caroline, her own mother’s sister.  She clasped her little hands nervously, and looked up in this strong man’s face with pathetic, pleading intensity.

“Oh, please tell me, what ought I to do, then—­what is right?” she implored.  “And because I want so much to believe you, I fear it must be wrong to do so.”

He leaned nearer to her and spoke earnestly.  His stillness was almost ominous, it gave the impression of such immense self-control, and his voice was as those bass notes of the priests of St. Isaac’s in his own northern land.

“Dear, honest little girl,” he said tenderly, “I worship your goodness.  And I know you will presently see the truth.  Love is of God and is imperious, and because she loves him is the only reason why a woman should give her life to a man.  Quite apart from the law, which proclaims that each individual must be the arbiter of his own fate, and not succumb to the wishes of others, it would be an ethical sin for you to marry the worthy Mr. Medlicott—­not loving him.  Surely, you can see this.”

“Yes—­yes, it would be dreadful,” she murmured, “but Aunt Caroline—­she caused me to accept him—­I mean, she wanted me to so much.  I never really felt anything for him myself, and lately—­ ever since the beginning, in fact, I have been getting more and more indifferent to him.”

“Then, surely, it is plain that you must be free of him, darling.  Throw all the responsibility upon me, if you will.  I promise to take every care of you.  And I want you only to promise you will follow each step that I explain to you—­” then he broke off, and the seriousness of his tone changed to one of caressing tenderness.  “But first I must know for certain, little star, shall I be able to teach you to love me—­as I shall love you?”