s it
say anything to You?"

He smiled gently as he put the question to her, but there was no
betrayal of emotion in his eyes or in his voice. Relieved of anxiety, so
far as Romayne was concerned, Father Benwell looked at Stella.

Steadily as she controlled herself, the confession of her heart's secret
found its way into her face. The coldly composed expression which had
confronted the priest when she spoke to him, melted away softly under
the influence of Romayne's voice and Romayne's look. Without any
positive change of color, her delicate skin glowed faintly, as if it
felt some animating inner warmth. Her eyes and lips brightened with a
new vitality; her frail elegant figure seemed insensibly to strengthen
and expand, like the leaf of a flower under a favoring sunny air. When
she answered Romayne (agreeing with him, it is needless to say), there
was a tender persuasiveness in her tones, shyly inviting him still to
speak to her and still to look at her, which would in itself have told
Father Benwell the truth, even if he had not been in a position to see
her face. Confirmed in his doubts of her, he looked, with concealed
suspicion, at Lady Loring next. Sympathy with Stella was undisguisedly
expressed to him in the honest blue eyes of Stella's faithful friend.

The discussion on the subject of the unfortunate picture was resumed by
Lord Loring, who thought the opinions of Romayne and Stella needlessly
severe. Lady Loring, as usual, agreed with her husband. While the
general attention was occupied in this way, Father Benwell said a word
to Penrose--thus far, a silent listener to the discourse on Art.

"Have you seen the famous portrait of the first Lady Loring, by
Gainsborough?" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he took Penrose
by the arm, and led him away to the picture--which had the additional
merit, under present circumstances, of hanging at the other end of the
gallery.

"How do you like Romayne?" Father Benwell put the question in low
peremptory tones, evidently impatient for a reply.

"He interests me already," said Penrose. "He looks so ill and so sad,
and he spoke to me so kindly--"

"In short," Father Benwell interposed, "Romayne has produced a favorable
impression on you. Let us get on to the next thing. You must produce a
favorable impression on Romayne."

Penrose sighed. "With the best will to make myself agreeable to people
whom I like," he said, "I don't always succeed. They used to tell me