at part of Devonshire you were visiting," she
resumed, assuming her more gracious manner. "I know something myself of
the north coast, especially the neighborhood of Clovelly."

Not the faintest change passed over the priest's face; his fatherly
smile had never been in a better state of preservation.

"Isn't it a charming place?" he said with enthusiasm. "Clovelly is the
most remarkable and most beautiful village in England. I have so enjoyed
my little holiday--excursions by sea and excursions by land--you know I
feel quite young again?"

He lifted his eyebrows playfully, and rubbed his plump hands one over
the other with such an intolerably innocent air of enjoyment that Stella
positively hated him. She felt her capacity for self-restraint failing
her. Under the influence of strong emotion her thoughts lost their
customary discipline. In attempting to fathom Father Benwell, she was
conscious of having undertaken a task which required more pliable moral
qualities than she possessed. To her own unutterable annoyance, she was
at a loss what to say next.

At that critical moment her mother appeared--eager for news of the
conquest of Romayne.

"My dear child, how pale you look!" said Mrs. Eyrecourt. "Come with me
directly--you must have a glass of wine."

This dexterous device for entrapping Stella into a private conversation
failed. "Not now, mamma, thank you," she said.

Father Benwell, on the point of discreetly withdrawing, stopped, and
looked at Mrs. Eyrecourt with an appearance of respectful interest. As
things were, it might not have been worth his while to take the trouble
of discovering her. But when she actually placed herself in his way, the
chance of turning Mrs. Eyrecourt to useful account was not a chance to
be neglected. "Your mother?" he said to Stella. "I should feel honored
if you will introduce me."

Having (not very willingly) performed the ceremony of presentation,
Stella drew back a little. She had no desire to take any part in the
conversation that might follow--but she had her own reasons for waiting
near enough to hear it.

In the meanwhile, Mrs. Eyrecourt turned on her inexhaustible flow
of small-talk with her customary facility. No distinction of persons
troubled her; no convictions of any sort stood in her way. She was
equally ready (provided she met him in good society) to make herself
agreeable to a Puritan or a Papist.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Father Benwell. Surely I