her voice.

"I am sorry," he began.

She stamped her foot upon the ground.

"Oh!" she said, "it hurts me, it hurts--from my father I understood, but
that you should think it possible that I would sell myself--I tell you
that it hurts," and as she spoke two large tears began to roll from her
lovely pleading eyes.

"Then you mean that you refused him?"

"What else?"

"Thank you. Of course, I have no right to interfere, but forgive me if
I say that I cannot help feeling glad. Even if it is taken on the ground
of wealth you can easily make as much money as you want without him,"
and he glanced at the violin which lay beside her.

She made no reply, the subject seemed to have passed from her mind. But
presently she lifted her head again, and in her turn asked a question.

"Did you not say that you are going away to-morrow?"

Then something happened to the heart and brain and tongue of Morris Monk
so that he could not speak the thing he wished. He meant to answer a
monosyllable "Yes," but in its place he replied with a whole sentence.

"I was thinking of doing so; but after all I do not know that it will be
necessary; especially in the middle of our experiments."

Stella said nothing, not a single word. Only she found her handkerchief,
and without in the least attempting to hide them, there before his eyes
wiped the two tears off her face, first one and then the other.

This done she held out her hand to him and left the room.

CHAPTER XIV

THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL

Next morning Morris and Stella met at breakfast as usual, but as though
by mutual consent neither of them alluded to the events of the previous
evening. Thus the name of Mr. Layard was "taboo," nor were any more
questions asked, or statements volunteered as to that journey, the toils
of which Morris had suddenly discovered he was after all able to avoid.
This morning, as it chanced, no experiments were carried on, principally
because it was necessary for Stella to spend the day in the village
doing various things on behalf of her father, and lunching with the wife
of Dr. Charters, who was one of the churchwardens.

By the second post, which arrived about three o'clock, Morris received
two letters, one from his father and one from Mary. There was something
about the aspect of these letters that held his eye. That from his
father was addressed with unusual neatness, the bold letters being
written with all the care of a candidate in a callig