The tall form bent again with dignified courtesy. "That is my privilege,
_mem-sahib,_" said Peter the Great.

He smiled mournfully, and made way for her to pass.

Mrs. Ralston knocked, and heard a low voice speak in answer. "What is
it, Peter?"

Softly she opened the door. "It is I, my dear. Are you in bed? May I
come and bid you good night?"

"Of course," Stella made instant reply. "How good you are! How kind!"

A shaded night-lamp was burning by her side. Her face upon the pillow
was in deep shadow. Her hair spread all around her, wrapping her as it
were in mystery.

As Mrs. Ralston drew near, she stretched out a welcoming hand. "I hope
my watch-dog didn't startle you," she said. "The dear fellow is so
upset that I don't want an _ayah_, he is doing his best to turn himself
into one. I couldn't bear to send him away. You don't mind?"

"My dear, I mind nothing." Mrs. Ralston stooped in her warm way and
kissed the pale, still face. "Are you comfortable? Have you everything
you want?"

"Everything, thank you," Stella answered, drawing her hostess gently
down to sit on the side of the bed. "I feel rested already. Somehow your
presence is restful."