Mr. Deanwood was the only restless person; he felt thoroughly uncomfortable and bored to death.  He hated having been dragged into this family quarrel, and secretly sympathized with his cousin in her revolt at the thought of being Eustace Medlicott’s wife.

“Oh, dear Uncle Erasmus!” Stella purred, from the highly perturbed clergyman’s neck, where she was burrowing her sweet head, rubbing her peach-like cheek against his whiskered cheek.  “Don’t say those dreadful things, I have not deceived anybody, I have known Count Roumovski since the day after we came to Rome, and—­and—­I love him very much, and you know I always thought Eustace a bore, and you must agree it is wicked to marry and not to love, so it must be good to, oh!—­well, to marry the person you do love.  What have you to say against it?”

Canon Ebley tried to unclasp her arms from round his neck.  He was terribly upset.  To be sure, the girl was very dear to him, and had always been so sweet a niece, a truthful, obedient child from early infancy.  Caroline had perhaps been a little hard—­he had better hear the facts.

“Dear me, dear me,” he blurted out.  “Well, well, tell me everything about the case, and, though I cannot consent to anything, I must do you the justice of hearing your side.”

“Won’t you sit down here, sir?” Princess Urazov said, “and let my brother and your niece tell you their story.  Mr. Deanwood, we met at Buda-Pesth two years ago—­” and she turned to the young man and indicated that he should join her in the far window embrasure, which he did with alacrity, and from there they heard, interpolated in their personal conversation, scraps of the arguments going on between the three.

Stella, assisted by her lover, told of her first talk and her drive, and their rapidly ripening affection for each other, and the girl looked so happy and so pleading.  Then Count Roumovski took up the thread.  He explained his position, and how his view of life had always been direct in its endeavor to see the truth and the meaning of things, and how to him love was the only possible reason in ethical morality for any marriage between two people.

“It is merely a great degradation, otherwise, sir,” he said earnestly.

But here Canon Ebley was heard to protest that he could not understand a love which had sprung into being with such violence in the space of three days, and he felt very suspicious of its durability.

“Oh, Uncle Erasmus, how can you say that!” Stella interrupted him.  “Why, you have often said that you yourself fell in love with Aunt Caroline from the moment your eye lighted upon her in church—­in church, remember, you old darling!” and she nestled up against his shoulder again.  Caresses like these she was always obliged to suppress in her austere aunt’s presence; they were only to be indulged in upon great occasions, and to gain an important end, she knew!  So the rogue smiled archly as she went on.  “You could hardly wait until you were introduced at the garden party the next day, and Aunt Caroline said you proposed to her before the end of the week!”