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Page 6
"Very well," said Canon Ebley, not altogether pleased, as he
walked away with the note.
The newspaper was lowered a few inches again, and the wise blue
eyes beneath the saintly parted hair twinkled with irresistible
laughter, and the deep voice said:
"He would greatly disapprove of our having conversed--the uncle--
is it not so? How long are you going to stay in Rome?"
Stella smiled, too--she could not help it.
"A week--ten days, perhaps," she answered, and then rapidly
addressed an envelope to the Rev. Eustace Medlicott.
"Perhaps, in that case, I can afford to wait until to-morrow
night; unless it amuses you, as it does me, to circumvent people,"
Count Roumovski said. "We are all masters of our own lives, you
know, once we have ceased to be children--it is only convention
which persuades us to submit to others' authority."
Stella looked up startled. Was this indeed true? And was it simply
convention which had forced her into an engagement with Eustace
Medlicott, and now forced her to go up and put on her hat and
accompany her uncle and aunt to see the Lateran, when she would
have preferred to remain where she was and discuss abstract
matters with this remarkable stranger.
"The notion surprises you, one sees," Count Roumovski went on,
"but it is true--"
"I suppose it is," said Stella lamely.
"I submit to no authority--I mean, as to the controlling of my
actions and wishes. We must all submit to the laws of our country,
to do so is the only way to obtain complete personal freedom."
"That sounds like a paradox," said Stella.
"I have just been thinking," he went on, without noticing the
interruption, "it would be most agreeable to take a drive in my
automobile late this after-noon, when your guardians have returned
and are resting. If you feel you would care to come I will wait in
this hall from five to six. You need not take the least notice of
me, you can walk past, out of the hotel, then turn to the left,
and there in the square, where there are a few trees, you will see
a large blue motor waiting. You will get straight in, and I will
come and join you. Not anyone will see or notice you--because of
the trees, one cannot observe from the windows. My chauffeur will
be prepared, and I will return you safely to the same place in an
hour."
Stella's brown eyes grew larger and larger. Some magnetic spell
seemed to be dominating her, the idea was preposterous, and yet to
agree to it was the strongest temptation she had ever had in all
her life. She was filled with a wild longing to live, to do what
she pleased, to be free to enjoy this excitement before her wings
should be clipped, and her outlook all gray and humdrum.
"I do not know if they will rest--I cannot say--I--" she blurted
out tremblingly.
The stranger had put down the Times, and was gazing into her face
with a look almost of tenderness.
"There is no need to answer now," he said softly. "If fate means
us to be happy, she will arrange it--I think you will come."
Miss Rawson started to her feet, and absently put her letter to
her fiance--which contained merely the sentence that they had
arrived in Rome--into its envelope and fastened it up.
"I must go now--good-bye," she said.
"It is not good-bye," the Russian answered gravely. "By six
o'clock, we shall be driving in the Borghese Gardens and hearing
the nightingales sing."
As Stella walked to the lift with a tumultuously beating heart,
she asked herself what all this could possibly mean, and why she
was not angry--and why this stranger--whose appearance outraged
all her ideas as to what an English gentleman should look like--
had yet the power to fascinate her completely. Of course, she
would not go for a drive with him--and yet, what would be the
harm? After September she would never have a chance like this
again. There would be only Eustace Medlicott and parish duties--
yes--if fate made it possible, she would go!
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