“I can’t compare myself to my excellent father,” he said; “but I have at least inherited his respect for the writers of books.  My library is a treasure which I hold in trust for the interests of literature.  Pray say so, from me, to your friend Mr. Romayne.”

And what does this amount to?—­you will ask.  My reverend friend, it offers me an opportunity, in the future, of bringing Romayne and Winterfield together.  Do you see the complications which may ensue?  If I can put no other difficulty in Miss Eyrecourt’s way, I think there is fruitful promise of a scandal of some kind arising out of the introduction to each other of those two men.  You will agree with me that a scandal may prove a valuable obstacle in the way of a marriage.

Mr. Winterfield has kindly invited me to call on him when he is next in London.  I may then have opportunities of putting questions which I could not venture to ask on a short acquaintance.

In the meantime, I have obtained another introduction since my return to town.  I have been presented to Miss Eyrecourt’s mother, and I am invited to drink tea with her on Wednesday.  My next letter may tell you—­what Penrose ought to have discovered—­whether Romayne has been already entrapped into a marriage engagement or not.

Farewell for the present.  Remind the Reverend Fathers, with my respects, that I possess one of the valuable qualities of an Englishman—­I never know when I am beaten.

BOOK THE THIRD.

CHAPTER I.

THE HONEYMOON.

MORE than six weeks had passed.  The wedded lovers were still enjoying their honeymoon at Vange Abbey.

Some offense had been given, not only to Mrs. Eyrecourt, but to friends of her way of thinking, by the strictly private manner in which the marriage had been celebrated.  The event took everybody by surprise when the customary advertisement appeared in the newspapers.  Foreseeing the unfavorable impression that might be produced in some quarters, Stella had pleaded for a timely retreat to the seclusion of Romayne’s country house.  The will of the bride being, as usual, the bridegroom’s law, to Vange they retired accordingly.

On one lovely moonlight night, early in July, Mrs. Romayne left her husband on the Belvidere, described in Major Hynd’s narrative, to give the housekeeper certain instructions relating to the affairs of the household.  Half an hour later, as she was about to ascend again to the top of the house, one of the servants informed her that “the master had just left the Belvidere, and had gone into his study.”

Crossing the inner hall, on her way to the study, Stella noticed an unopened letter, addressed to Romayne, lying on a table in a corner.  He had probably laid it aside and forgotten it.  She entered his room with the letter in her hand.

The only light was a reading lamp, with the shade so lowered that the corners of the study were left in obscurity.  In one of these corners Romayne was dimly visible, sitting with his head sunk on his breast.  He never moved when Stella opened the door.  At first she thought he might be asleep.