"What do you think of Miss Eyrecourt?"
"A very striking face; full of expression and character. Leonardo would have painted a noble portrait of her. But there is something in her manner--" He stopped, unwilling or unable to finish the sentence.
"Something you don't like?" Lord Loring suggested.
"No; something I don't quite understand. One doesn't expect to find any embarrassment in the manner of a well-bred woman. And yet she seemed to be embarrassed when she spoke to me. Perhaps I produced an unfortunate impression on her."
Lord Loring laughed. "In any man but you, Romayne, I should call that affectation."
"Why?" Romayne asked, sharply.
Lord Loring looked unfeignedly surprised. "My dear fellow, do you really think you are the sort of man who impresses a woman unfavorably at first sight? For once in your life, indulge in the amiable weakness of doing yourself justice--and find a better reason for Miss Eyrecourt's embarrassment."
For the first time since he and his friend had been talking together, Romayne turned toward Stella. He innocently caught her in the act of looking at him. A younger woman, or a woman of weaker character, would have looked away again. Stella's noble head drooped; her eyes sank slowly, until they rested on her long white hands crossed upon her lap. For a moment more Romayne looked at her with steady attention.
He roused himself, and spoke to Lord Loring in lowered tones.
"Have you known Miss Eyrecourt for a long time?"
"She is my wife's oldest and dearest friend. I think, Romayne, you would feel interested in Stella, if you saw more of her."
Romayne bowed in silent submission to Lord Loring's prophetic remark. "Let us look at the pictures," he said, quietly.
As he moved down the gallery, the two priests met him. Father Benwell saw his opportunity of helping Penrose to produce a favorable impression.
"Forgive the curiosity of an old student, Mr. Romayne," he said in his pleasant, cheerful way. "Lord Loring tells me you have sent to the country for your books. Do you find a London hotel favorable to study?"
"It is a very quiet hotel," Romayne answered, "and the people know my ways." He turned to Arthur. "I have my own set of rooms, Mr. Penrose," he continued--"with a room at your disposal. I used to enjoy the solitude of my house in the country. My tastes have lately changed--there are times now when I want to see the life in the streets, as a relief. Though we are in a hotel, I can promise that you will not be troubled by interruptions, when you kindly lend me the use of your pen."
Father Benwell answered before Penrose could speak. "You may perhaps find my young friend's memory of some use to you, Mr. Romayne, as well as his pen. Penrose has studied in the Vatican Library. If your reading leads you that way, he knows more than most men of the rare old manuscripts which treat of the early history of Christianity."
This delicately managed reference to the projected work on "The Origin of Religions" produced its effect.
"I should like very much, Mr. Penrose, to speak to you about those manuscripts," Romayne said. "Copies of some of them may perhaps be in the British Museum. Is it asking too much to inquire if you are disengaged this morning?"
"I am entirely at your service, Mr. Romayne."
"If you will kindly call at my hotel in an hour's time, I shall have looked over my notes, and shall be ready for you with a list of titles and dates. There is the address."
With those words, he advanced to take his leave of Lady Loring and Stella.
Father Benwell was a man possessed of extraordinary power of foresight--but he was not infallible. Seeing that Romayne was on the point of leaving the house, and feeling that he had paved the way successfully for Romayne's amanuensis, he too readily assumed that there was nothing further to be gained by remaining in the gallery. Moreover, the interval before Penrose called at the hotel might be usefully filled up by some wise words of advice, relating to the religious uses to which he might turn his intercourse with his employer. Making one of his ready and plausible excuses, he accordingly returned with Penrose to the library--and so committed (as he himself discovered at a later time) one of the few mistakes in the long record of his life.
In the meanwhile, Romayne was not permitted to bring his visit to a conclusion without hospitable remonstrance on the part of Lady Loring. She felt for Stella, with a woman's enthusiastic devotion to the interests of true love; and she had firmly resolved that a matter so trifling as the cultivation of Romayne's mind should not be allowed to stand in the way of the far more important enterprise of opening his heart to the influence of the sex.
"Stay and lunch with us," she said, when he held out his hand to bid her good-by.
"Thank you, Lady Loring, I never take lunch."
"Well, then, come and dine with us--no party; only ourselves. Tomorrow, and next day, we are disengaged. Which day shall it be?"
Romayne still resisted. "You are very kind. In my state of health, I am unwilling to make engagements which I may not be able to keep."
Lady Loring was just as resolute on her side. She appealed to Stella. "Mr. Romayne persists, my dear, in putting me off with excuses. Try if you can persuade him."
"I am not likely to have any influence, Adelaide."
The tone in which she replied struck Romayne. He looked at her. Her eyes, gravely meeting his eyes, held him with a strange fascination. She was not herself conscious how openly all that was noble and true in her nature, all that was most deeply and sensitively felt in her aspirations, spoke at that moment in her look. Romayne's face changed: he turned pale under the new emotion that she had roused in him. Lady Loring observed him attentively.
"Perhaps you underrate your influence, Stella?" she suggested.
Stella remained impenetrable to persuasion. "I have only been introduced to Mr. Romayne half an hour since," she said. "I am not vain enough to suppose that I can produce a favorable impression on any one in so short a time."
She had expressed, in other words, Romayne's own idea of himself, in speaking of her to Lord Loring. He was struck by the coincidence.
"Perhaps we have begun, Miss Eyrecourt, by misinterpreting one another," he said. "We may arrive at a better understanding when I have the honor of meeting you again."
He hesitated and looked at Lady Loring. She was not the woman to let a fair opportunity escape her. "We will say to-morrow evening," she resumed, "at seven o'clock."
"To-morrow," said Romayne. He shook hands with Stella, and left the picture gallery.
Thus far, the conspiracy to marry him promised even more hopefully than the conspiracy to convert him. And Father Benwell, carefully instructing Penrose in the next room, was not aware of it!
But the hours, in their progress, mark the march of events as surely as they mark the march of time. The day passed, the evening came--and, with its coming, the prospects of the conversion brightened in their turn.