influences of which the doctor spoke--the influence of a look."

If he had said this to Lady Loring, instead of to her husband, she
would have understood him at once. Lord Loring asked for a word more of
explanation.

"I told you yesterday," Romayne answered, "that a dread of the return of
the voice had been present to me all the morning, and that I had come to
see the picture with an idea of trying if change would relieve me. While
I was in the gallery I was free from the dread, and free from the voice.
When I returned to the hotel it tortured me--and Mr. Penrose, I grieve
to say, saw what I suffered. You and I attributed the remission to the
change of scene. I now believe we were both wrong. Where was the change?
In seeing you and Lady Loring, I saw the two oldest friends I have.
In visiting your gallery, I only revived the familiar associations of
hundreds of other visits. To what influence was I really indebted for
my respite? Don't try to dismiss the question by laughing at my morbid
fancies. Morbid fancies are realities to a man like me. Remember the
doctor's words, Loring. Think of a new face, seen in your house! Think
of a look that searched my heart for the first time!"

Lord Loring glanced once more at the clock on the mantel-piece. The
hands pointed to the dinner hour.

"Miss Eyrecourt?" he whispered.

"Yes; Miss Eyrecourt."

The library door was thrown open by a servant. Stella herself entered
the room.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE PRIEST OR THE WOMAN?

LORD LORING hurried away to his dressing room. "I won't be more than ten
minutes," he said--and left Romayne and Stella together.

She was attired with her customary love of simplicity. White lace was
the only ornament on her dress of delicate silvery gray. Her magnificent
hair was left to plead its own merits, without adornment of any sort.
Even the brooch which fastened her lace pelerine was of plain gold only.
Conscious that she was showing her beauty to the greatest advantage in
the eyes of a man of taste, she betrayed a little of the embarrassment
which Romayne had already noticed at the moment when she gave him her
hand. They were alone, and it was the first time she had seen him in
evening dress.

It may be that women have no positive appreciation of what is beautiful
in form and color--or it may be that they have no opinions of their own
when the laws of fashion have spoken. This at least is certain, that not
one of them in a thousand sees an