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Rh there were some spell about them; and Stella, who had adopted Bertrand's notion that he had been disappointed in a love-affair before entering his present life, felt certain that he uttered those tender words now in memory of a woman he loved. She glanced across at his figure, dimly outlined in the fading light, and caught a suggestion, too, of the expression of his face, which she fancied was very sad. She had schooled herself into a habit of distrust of this man, but it contradicted her instinct, and lately she had had much ado to preserve toward him the mental attitude she had laid down for herself. Although constantly on the lookout for signs of duplicity or unreality, she had found not one, and had been obliged to decide that they existed with regard to his love-affairs only. She had heard of such cases, where men were thoroughly trustworthy in everything else. She wondered intensely now whether Mr. Hobart was unhappy,—whether any woman had treated him badly and ruined his life perhaps. Oh, what a sad thing that must be,—to have the interest and spirit taken out of everything at one blow! She would hardly own to herself how real her conception of it was. She was thinking now only of how sorry she was for him, and how she wished he could be happy. It seemed too sad.

The twilight, meantime, had deepened, and the stars were coming out and faintly lighting up the sky. The stillness, too, had deepened, and they seemed more solitary than ever, sitting alone together in the calm sweetness of the quiet night.

"Miss Stella," said Hobart, presently, breaking the stillness with a voice too low and soft to sound discordant, "I've been thinking about you, and I'm almost bold enough to tell you my thoughts. Do you feel yourself in a forgiving mood, in case they should seem to you presumptuous?"

Stella could not answer immediately. It was the first time he had called her "Miss Stella" since the old days when he had treated her almost like a child, and she was, in spite of herself, moved by it. In a moment she found voice to say,—

"You may tell me your thoughts as freely as you please, Mr. Hobart. I am not likely to be angry."

Her companion was perhaps a little surprised at this, as Stella would undoubtedly have been herself, but for a most unwonted preoccupation. It was not at all the answer she would generally have made.

"I was thinking, for one thing," Hobart said, "that I would give a great deal to have some insight into the thoughts that have occupied your mind as we have been sitting here together in the twilight; for an hour like this is apt to break through the restraints imposed by discipline, and the mind is apt to be arbitrary and follow its own bent. You, being