Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

14 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. “[ 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 ques- tions 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! “T am not afraid of that,” he said. “T 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 prefer- ence 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 intelli- gence of her broad brows. With all her simplicity, she looked no fool or weakling. And to think that the nar- row 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 clergy- man’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 AINSLEE’S 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 stu- pidity into whatever regions the sub- jects 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 back to Martha again.” “Tyan has not warned us that she its 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?” “Tyan—who is Ivan?” Stella asked. “He is a servant of mine who does what he is bid,” her companion an- swered. “To have peace and enjoy one- self, 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 upon the look- out, 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 uncon- sciously you trusted me to know, and so we have been content.” Stella was thrilled. So he had taken all this trouble? He must be a good deal interested in her, then; and, feel- ing sure of this, womanlike, she imme- diately took advantage of it to insist upon leaving him. “Very well,” he said, when he could not dissuade her. ‘‘To-night the wheel of fortune will revolve for us all, and it remains to be seen who will draw a prize and who a blank.” Then he walked by her side to where they saw the quiet servant standing, a motionless sentinel, and here Count Roumovski bowed and turned on his heel, while Stella advanced to the bench on which the comfortable Martha peacefully slept. (C@ OOK (E@)