uld have chosen out of ten thousand as a son-in-law----" and he
ceased, overwhelmed.

"Father, I am sorry that you are sorry, but it is strange you should
understand me so little after all these years, that you could for one
moment think that I should marry Mr. Layard."

"And why not, pray? Are you better born----"

"Yes," interrupted Stella, whose one pride was that of her ancient
lineage.

"I didn't mean that. I meant better bred and generally superior to him?
You talk as though you were of a different clay."

"Perhaps the clay is the same," said Stella, "but the mind is not."

"Oh, there it is again, spiritual and intellectual pride, which causes
you to set yourself above your fellows, and in the end will be your
ruin. It has made a lonely woman of you for years, and it will do worse
than that. It will turn you into an old maid--if you live," he added, as
though shaken by some sudden memory.

"Perhaps," said Stella, "I am not frightened at the prospect. I daresay
that I shall have a little money and at the worst I can always earn
a living; my voice would help me to it, if nothing else does. Father,
dear, you mustn't be vexed with me; and pray--pray do understand that
no earthly thing would make me marry a man whom I dislike rather than
otherwise; who, at least, is not a mate for me, merely because he could
give me a fine house to live in, and treat me luxuriously. What would be
the good of such things to me if I knew that I had tarnished myself and
violated my instincts?"

"You talk like a book--you talk like a book," muttered the old
gentleman. "But I know that the end of it will be wretchedness for
everybody. People who go on as you do about instincts, and fine
feelings, and all that stuff, are just the ones who get into some
dreadful mess at last. I tell you that such ideas are some of the
devil's best baits."

Stella began to grow indignant.

"Do you think, father, that you ought to talk to me quite like that?"
she asked. "Don't you know me well enough to be sure that I should never
get into what you call a mess--at least, not in the way I suppose you
mean? My heart and thought are my own, and I shall be prepared to render
account of them; for the rest, you need not be afraid."

"I didn't mean that--I didn't mean anything of the sort----"

"I am glad to hear it," broke in Stella. "It would scarcely have been
kind, especially as I am no longer a child who needs to be warned
against the dangers of th