THE END OF THE BALL.
THE priest's long journey did not appear to have fatigued him.He was as cheerful and as polite as ever--and so paternally attentive to Stella that it was quite impossible for her to pass him with a formal bow.
"I have come all the way from Devonshire," he said."The train has been behind time as usual, and I am one of the late arrivals in consequence.I miss some familiar faces at this delightful party.Mr.Romayne, for instance.Perhaps he is not one of the guests?""Oh, yes."
"Has he gone away?"
"Not that I know of."
The tone of her replies warned Father Benwell to let Romayne be.
He tried another name.
"And Arthur Penrose?" he inquired next.
"I think Mr.Penrose has left us."
As she answered she looked toward Lady Loring.The hostess was the center of a circle of ladles and gentlemen.Before she was at liberty, Father Benwell might take his departure.Stella resolved to make the attempt for herself which she had asked Lady Loring to make for her.It was better to try, and to be defeated, than not to try at all.
"I asked Mr.Penrose what part of Devonshire you were visiting,"she resumed, assuming her more gracious manner."I know something myself of the north coast, especially the neighborhood of Clovelly."Not the faintest change passed over the priest's face; his fatherly smile had never been in a better state of preservation.
"Isn't it a charming place?" he said with enthusiasm."Clovelly is the most remarkable and most beautiful village in England.Ihave so enjoyed my little holiday--excursions by sea and excursions by land- you know I feel quite young again?"He lifted his eyebrows playfully, and rubbed his plump hands one over the other with such an intolerably innocent air of enjoyment that Stella positively hated him.She felt her capacity for self-restraint failing her.Under the influence of strong emotion her thoughts lost their customary discipline.In attempting to fathom Father Benwell, she was conscious of having undertaken a task which required more pliable moral qualities than she possessed.To her own unutterable annoyance, she was at a loss what to say next.
At that critical moment her mother appeared--eager for news of the conquest of Romayne.
"My dear child, how pale you look!" said Mrs.Eyrecourt."Come with me directly--you must have a glass of wine."This dexterous devic e for entrapping Stella into a private conversation failed."Not now, mamma, thank you," she said.
Father Benwell, on the point of discreetly withdrawing, stopped, and looked at Mrs.Eyrecourt with an appearance of respectful interest.As things were, it might not have been worth his while to take the trouble of discovering her.But when she actually placed herself in his way, the chance of turning Mrs.Eyrecourt to useful account was not a chance to be neglected."Your mother?" he said to Stella."I should feel honored if you will introduce me."Having (not very willingly) performed the ceremony of presentation, Stella drew back a little.She had no desire to take any part in the conversation that might follow--but she had her own reasons for waiting near enough to hear it.
In the meanwhile, Mrs.Eyrecourt turned on her inexhaustible flow of small-talk with her customary facility.No distinction of persons troubled her; no convictions of any sort stood in her way.She was equally ready (provided she met him in good society)to make herself agreeable to a Puritan or a Papist.
