Stella hurried Frank across the meadows

Stella hurried Frank across the meadows, a rather difficult task, as he would insist upon talking, his teeth chattering, and his clothes dripping. “What a splendid fellow, Stella! What a happy girl you ought to be—you are!” “Perhaps I am,” assented Stella, with a little smile; “but do you make haste, Frank! Can’t you run any faster? I’ll race you to the lane!” “No, you won’t,” he retorted cheerfully. “You…

One hears of the devotion of a dog to its master

One hears of the devotion of a dog to its master, the love of a horse for its rider; such devotion, such love Stella received from the boy Frank. He was a very singular boy, and strange; he soon lost the air of melancholy and sadness which hung about him on the first night of his arrival, and became happier and sometimes even merry; there was always a certain kind…

It was the face she had seen in the miniature

It was the face she had seen in the miniature, changed from childhood to youth. The same blue eyes, frank, confiding, and womanish—the same golden hair clustering in short curls, instead of falling on the shoulders as in the picture—the same smiling mouth, with its little touch of weakness about the under lip. A taking, a pretty rather than a handsome face; it ought to have belonged rather to a…

When Stella awoke in the morning it was with a start that she remembered the scene of last night

When Stella awoke in the morning it was with a start that she remembered the scene of last night, and that she was, with the exception of Mrs. Penfold, alone in the cottage. While she was dressing she recalled the incidents of the eventful evening—the party at the Hall, the telegram, and, not least, the finding of the mysterious miniature. But, above all, there shone out clear and distinct the…

Jasper undressed and went to bed

Jasper undressed and went to bed, and slept as soundly as men of his peculiar caliber do sleep, while Scrivell was standing[118] at the corner of a street in Covent Garden, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the entrance to King’s Hotel. A little after nine Jasper awoke, had his bath, dressed, went out, got some breakfast, and sat down to work, and for the time…

Jasper Adelstone was in love

Jasper Adelstone was in love. It was some time before he would bring himself to admit it even to himself, for he was wont to pride himself on his superiority to all attacks of the tender passion. Often and often had he amused himself and his chosen companions by ridiculing the conditions of those weak mortals who allowed themselves to be carried away by what he termed a weak and…

Lord Leycester stood for a minute or two looking after the carriage that bore Stella and her uncle away

Lord Leycester stood for a minute or two looking after the carriage that bore Stella and her uncle away; then he returned to the house. They were a hot-headed race, these Wyndwards, and Leycester was, to put it mildly, as little capable of prudence or calculation as any of his line; but though his heart was beating fast, and the vision of the beautiful girl in all her young unstained…

Stella came to him quickly, with a little cry of dismay

“What shall I do?” exclaimed Mr. Etheridge. Stella came to him quickly, with a little cry of dismay. “What is it, uncle? Are you ill—is it bad news? Oh, what is the matter?” And she looked up into his pale and agitated face with anxious concern. His gaze was fixed on vacancy, but there was more than abstraction in his eyes—there was acute pain and anguish. “What is it, dear?”…

The words had almost the solemnity of a prophesy

He started. The words had almost the solemnity of a prophesy. “Who will dare?” he said; then he laughed. “My little, fearsome, trembling darling!” he murmured, “fear nothing or rather, tell me what you fear, and whom.” She glanced toward the windows. “I fear them all!” she said, quietly and simply. “My father?” She inclined her head and let her head fall upon his shoulder. “The countess, all of them.…

She was a girl—a mere child

“I love you,” he said. Only three words, but only a woman can understand what those three words meant to Stella. She was a girl—a mere child, as Lady Wyndward had said; never, save from her father’s lips, had she heard those words before. Even now she scarcely realized their full meaning. She only knew that his hand was upon her arm; that his eyes were fixed on hers with…