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Page 13
She raised two beseeching eyes to his face at last.
"Oh, do not let us talk about it," she pleaded. "It is so warm and
pleasant here--I want to be happy."
He looked at her for a while with penetrating eyes, then he said
gently:
"It is a man's province to take care of a woman," and his
attractive voice filled with a new cadence. "I see you are in need
of direction. Leave all to me--and forget there is any one else in
the world for the moment but our two selves. Did you know that I
thought you looked particularly sweet last night, but rather
pale?"
"You never looked at me at all," said Stella before she was aware
of it, and then blushed crimson at the inference of her speech. He
would be able to understand perfectly that she must have been
observing him all the time to be conscious of this.
A gleam of gladness came into his eyes.
"I would like to watch you always openly, if I might," he
whispered. "Your little face is like a flower in its delicate
tints, and your eyes are true and tender and asking so many
questions of life,--and sometimes they are veiled and misty, and
then they look wise and courageous. I am beginning to know all
their changes."
"Then, in that case, monotony will set in," Stella was almost
arch--the day was so glorious!
"I am not afraid of that," he said. "I always know what I want and
what is worth while. I do not value my three matchless pearls the
less because I know their every iridescence--on the contrary, I
grow more fond of them and wear them every night in preference to
any others."
They were silent for a moment after this. He was examining her
minutely with his wise, calm eyes. He was noting the sensitive
curve of the pretty full lips, the tender droop of the set of her
head, the gracious charm of her little regular features, and the
intelligence of her broad brow. With all her simplicity, she
looked no fool or weakling. And to think that the narrow code of
those who surrounded her should force this sweet young creature
into the gray walls of a prison house, when she became the English
clergyman's wife; it was too revolting to him. Count Roumovski
suddenly made up his mind, trained to instantaneous decision by
his bent of studies, and sure and decided in its action. And if
Stella had looked up then she would have seen a keen gleam in the
peaceful blue of his eyes. He drew her on to talk of her home and
her tastes--she loved many things he did, he found--and she was so
eager to hear and to learn their meaning. He grew to feel a sort
of pride and the pleasure of a teacher when directing an extremely
intelligent child. There were no barriers of stupidity into
whatever regions the subjects might wander. They spent an hour of
pure joy investigating each other's thoughts. And both knew they
were growing more than friends.
Then Stella rose suddenly to her feet. A clock struck twelve.
"You said one must not be negative and drift," she announced
demurely, "so I am being decided and must now go to Martha again."
"Ivan has not warned us that she is thinking of stirring," Count
Roumovski said. "I told him to, and he will let us know in plenty
of time; you surely do not breakfast until half-past twelve, do
you?"
"Ivan?--who is Ivan?" Stella asked.
"He is a servant of mine who does what he is bid," her companion
answered. "To have peace to enjoy oneself one must calculate and
arrange for events. Had we only trusted to the probability of your
maid's sleeping, I should have had to be on the lookout, and my
uneasiness would have communicated itself to you, and we should
have had no happy hour--but I made a certainty of safety--and
unconsciously you trusted me to know, and so we have been
content."
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