"Quite well, I hope, my lord?" for there was a pallor on his lordship's face which caused the worthy skipper a vague uneasiness. He had seen his master under various and peculiar circumstances, but had never seen him look quite like this.
"Perfectly well and fit, thanks, captain," said Drake. "Will you have a cigar? Wind will just suit us, will it not?"
About the same time Nell's cab arrived at Wolfer House, Egerton Square. There were several other cabs and carriages standing in a line opposite the house, and Nell's cab had to wait some little time before it could set her down;but at last she was able to alight, and a footman escorted her and her box into a large and rather gloomy hall. He seemed somewhat surprised by her box, and eyed her doubtfully as she inquired for Lady Wolfer.
"Lady Wolfer? Yes, miss. Her ladyship is in the dining room. The meeting is now on. Perhaps you had better walk in."
Sharing the man's hesitation, Nell followed him to the door. As he opened it, the sound of a woman's voice, thin, yet insistent and rasping, came out to meet her. She saw that the room was crowded. Nearly all who were present were women—women of various ages, but all with some peculiarity of manner or dress which struck Nell at the very first moment. But there were some men present—men with fat and rather flabby faces, men small and feeble in appearance, men long-haired and smooth-shaven.
At the end of the room, behind a small table, stood a woman, still young, dressed in a tailor-made suit of masculine pattern and cut. Her hair was pretty in color and texture, but it was cut almost close, and just touched the collar of her covert coat. She wore a bowler hat, her gloves were on the table in front of her—thick, dogskin gloves, like a man's. She held a roll of paper in her hand, which was bare of rings, though feminine enough in size and shape. A pince-nez was balanced on her nose, and her chin—really a pretty chin—was held high in an aggressive manner.
Nell had an idea that this was Lady Wolfer, and she edged as close to the wall as she could, and watched and listened to the speaker with a natural curiosity and anxiety.
"To conclude," the orator was saying, with a wave of the roll of paper and a jerk of the chin, "to conclude, we are banded together to wage a war against our old tyrant—a war of equity and right. Oh, my sisters, do not let us falter, do not let us return the sword to the scabbard until we have cleaved our way to that goal toward which the eyes of suffering womanhood have been drawn since the gospel of equal rights for both sexes sounded its first evangel!"
It was evidently the close, the peroration, of the speech; there was a burst of applause, much clapping of hands, and immediately afterward a kind of stampede to some tables, behind which a couple of footmen were preparing to dispense light refreshments.
Nell, much mystified, and rather shy and frightened, remained where she was; and she was just upon the point of inquiring for Lady Wolfer, when the recent speaker came down the room, talking with one and another of the presumably less hungry mob, and catching sight of Nell's slight and rather shrinking figure, advanced toward her.
"This is a new disciple, I suppose," she said, smiling through her eyeglasses.
"I—I wish to see Lady Wolfer," said Nell, trying not to blush.
"I am Lady Wolfer," said the youngish lady with the short hair and mannish suit; and she spoke in a gentler voice than Nell would have been inclined to credit her with.
"I am—I am Nell Lorton."
Lady Wolfer looked puzzled for a moment; then she laughed and held out her hand.
"Really? Why, how young and——" She was going to say "pretty," but stopped in time. "Did you wire? But of course you did. I must have forgotten. I have such a mass of correspondence!" She laughed again. "I thought you were a new disciple! Come with me!"
And, with what struck Nell as scant courtesy, her ladyship left the other ladies, took her by the hand, and led her out of the room.
Lady Wolfer led Nell to her ladyship's own room. It was as unlike a boudoir as it well could be; for the furniture was of the simplest kind, and in place of the elegant trifles with which the fair sex usually delight to surround themselves, the tables, the couch, and even the chairs were littered with solid-looking volumes, blue books, pamphlets, and sheets of manuscript paper.
There was a piano, it is true; but its top was loaded with handbills and posters announcing meetings, and the dust lay thick on its lid. The writing table was better suited to an office than a lady's "own room," and it was strewn with the prevailing litter.
Lady Wolfer cleared a chair by sweeping the books from it, and gently pushed Nell into it.
"Now, you sit down for a moment while I ring for a maid to take you to your room. Heaven only knows where it is, or in what condition you will find it! You see, I quite forgot you were coming. Candid, isn't it? But I'm always candid, and I begin at once with you. By the way, oughtn't you to have come earlier—or later?"
Nell explained that she had had her breakfast at the station, and spent an hour in the waiting room, so as not to present herself too early.
"How thoughtful of you!" said Lady Wolfer. "You don't look—you look so young and—girlish."
"I'm not very old," remarked Nell, with a smile. "Perhaps I'm not old enough to fill the position."
"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't throw a doubt upon your staying!" said her ladyship quickly. "I'm so tired of old, or what I call old, people, and I am sure you will do beautifully. For, though you are so young, you look as if you could manage; and that is what I can't do—I mean manage a house. I can talk—I can talk the hind leg off a donkey, as Archie says"—she stopped, looking slightly embarrassed for a moment, and Nell supposed that her ladyship alluded to Lord Wolfer—"but when it comes to details, fortunately there is always somebody else."
While she had been speaking, Lady Wolfer had taken off her hat and jacket, and flung them onto the book-and-paper-strewn couch.
"I'm just come in from a breakfast meeting to attend this one at home," she explained. "And I've got to go out again directly to a committee—the Employment of Women Bureau. Have you ever heard of it?"
Nell shook her head.
"No? I'm half inclined to envy you. No, I'm not! If it weren't for my work, I should go out of my mind."
She put her hand to her head, and for an instant a wearied, melancholy expression flitted across her face, as if some hidden trouble had reared its head and grinned at her.
The door opened, and a maid appeared.
"Burden, this is Miss Lorton," said Lady Wolfer. "Is her room ready?"
Burden looked exceedingly doubtful.
"I expected it! Please have it got ready at once; and send some wine and biscuits, please."
A footman brought them, and Lady Wolfer poured some wine out for Nell.
"Oh, but you must! Heaven knows when we shall have lunch; they'll very likely consider that scramble downstairs as sufficient. But you'll see to all that for the future, won't you?"
"You must tell me, Lady Wolfer——" began Nell, but her ladyship, with a grimace, stopped her.
"My dear girl, I can't tell you anything, excepting that Lord Wolfer takes his breakfast early—not later than nine—is seldom in to lunch, and still less frequently at home to dinner; but when he does dine here, he dines at eight. The cook, who is, I believe, rather a decent sort of man, knows what Lord Wolfer likes, and you can't go very far wrong, I fancy, if you have a joint of roast beef or a leg of mutton on the menu; the rest doesn't matter."
Nell began to feel daunted. There was just a little too much carte blanche about it.
"And as to the other servants, why, there's an old person named Hubbard—Old Mother Hubbard, I call her—who is supposed to look after them."
Nell could not help smiling.
"I don't quite see where I come in," she remarked.
Lady Wolfer laughed.
"Oh, don't you?" she replied, as if she had been explaining most fully. "You are the figurehead, the goddess of the machine. You will see that all goes right, and give Lord Wolfer his breakfast, and preside at the dinner when I'm out on the stump——"
"On the what?" asked the mystified Nell.
"Out speaking at meetings or serving on committees," said Lady Wolfer. "And you will arrange about the dinner parties and—and all that kind of thing, you know—the stupid things that I'm expected to do, but which I really haven't any time for. Do you quite see now?"
"I will do all I can," Nell said, and she laughed.
Lady Wolfer glanced at her rather curiously.
"How pretty you look when you laugh—quite different. You struck me as looking rather sad and sobered when I first saw you; but when you laugh——I should advise you not to laugh when you first see Lord Wolfer, or he'll think you too absurdly young and girlish for the post. Do take your hat and jacket off! It will be some time before your room is ready. Let me help you."
Nell got her outdoor things off quickly, and Lady Wolfer looked at her still more approvingly.
"You really are quite a child, my dear!" she said, and for some reason or other she sighed. "Why didn't Wolfer tell me about you before, I wonder? I wish he had; I should like to have had you come and stay with us. But he is so reserved——" she sighed again. "But never mind; you are here now. And how tired you must be! You are looking a little pale now. Why don't you drink that wine? When you are rested—quite rested—to-night, after dinner, perhaps—let me see, am I going anywhere?"
She consulted a large engagement slate of white porcelain which stood erect on the crowded table.
"Hem! yes, I have to speak at the Sisters of State Society. Never mind; to-morrow, after lunch—if I'm at home. Yes, I can see that we shall be great friends, and that is what I wanted. The others—I mean your predecessors—were such terrible old frumps, without any idea above cutlets and clean sheets, that they only bored and worried me; but you will be quite different——"
"Perhaps I shan't be able to rise to the cutlet and clean sheets," suggested Nell diffidently; but her ladyship laughed.
"Oh, yes, you will!" she declared. "I am an excellent judge of character—it's one of my qualifications for the work I'm engaged in—and I can see that you are an admirable manager. I suppose you ran the house at home?"
Nell smiled.
"'Home' meant quite a small cottage," she said. "This is a mansion."
"Same thing," commented Lady Wolfer encouragingly. "It's all a question of system. I haven't any; you have; therefore you'll succeed where I fail. You've got that quiet, mousy little way which indicates strength of character——What beautiful hair you have, by the way."
Nell blushed.
"It's no prettier than yours. Why do you wear it so short, Lady Wolfer?"
Lady Wolfer laughed—just a little wearily, so it struck Nell.
"Why? Oh, I don't know. All we advanced women get our hair cut. I imagine we have a right to do so, and that by going cropped we assert that right."
"I see," said Nell. "But isn't it—a pity?"
Lady Wolfer looked at her curiously, with an expression which Nell did not understand at that early period of their acquaintance.
"Does it matter?" she said. "We women have been dolls too long——"
"But there are short-haired dolls," said Nell, with her native shrewdness.
Lady Wolfer did not seem offended.
"That was rather smart," she remarked. "Take care, or we shall have you on a public platform before long, my dear."
"Oh, I hope not! I mean—I beg your pardon."
"Not at all," said Lady Wolfer, with no abatement of her good humor. "There's no danger—fortunately, for you. No, my dear; I can see that yours is a very different métier. Your rôle is the 'angel of the house'—to be loved and loving." She turned to the desk as she spoke, and did not see the flush that rose for an instant to poor Nell's pale face. "You will always be the woman in chains—the slave of man. I hope the chain will be of roses, my dear."
She stifled a sigh as she finished the pretty little sentence; and Nell, watching her, saw the expression of unrest and melancholy on her ladyship's face again. Nell wondered what was the matter, and was still wondering when there came a knock at the door.
"Come in!" said Lady Wolfer; and a gentleman entered. He was young and good-looking, his tall figure clad in the regulation frock coat, in the buttonhole of which was a delicate orchid. The hat which he carried in his lavender-gloved hands shone as if it had just left the manufacturer's hands, and his small feet were clad in the brightest of patent-leather boots.
"I beg pardon!" he began, in the slow drawl which fashion had of late ordained. "Didn't know you weren't alone. Sorry!"
At the sound of his voice a faint flush rose to Lady Wolfer's rather pretty face.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" she said, nodding familiarly. "I thought it was Burden."
"I've come to take you to the meetin'," said the beautifully dressed gentleman, clipping off his "g" in the manner approved by the smart set.
"Thanks. This is Sir Archie Walbrooke," said Lady Wolfer, introducing him; "and this is my cousin—we are cousins, you know, my dear—Miss Lorton."
Sir Archie bowed, and stared meditatively at Nell.
"Goin' to the meetin', too?" he asked. "Hope so, I'm sure. Great fun, these meetin's."
"No; oh, no," explained Lady Wolfer. "Miss Lorton has come to set us all straight, and keep us so, I hope."
"Trust I'm included; want it," said Sir Archie—"want it badly."
"Oh, you're incorrigible—incorrigibly stupid, I mean," retorted Lady Wolfer. "She has come to take care of us—Wolfer and me."
"Run the show—I see," he said gravely. "If it isn't a rude question, I should like to ask: 'Who's goin' to take care of Miss Norton?'"
"Lorton, Lorton," corrected Lady Wolfer. "And it is a rude question, to which you won't get an answer. Go downstairs and smoke a cigarette. I'll be ready presently."
"All right—delighted; but time's up, you know," he said; and, with a bow to Nell, sauntered out.
Lady Wolfer sat down at the desk, and wrote rapidly for a moment; then she said casually—a little too casually, it would have struck a woman of the world:
"That is a great friend of mine—and Lord Wolfer's," she added quickly. "He is an awfully nice man, and—and very useful. He is a kind of tame cat here, runs in and out as he likes, and plays escort when I'm slumming or attending meetings. I hope you'll like him. He's not such a fool as he looks, and though he does clip his 'Gees'—sounds like a pun,doesn't it?—and cuts his sentences short, he—he is very good-natured and obliging."
"He seems so," said Nell, a little puzzled to understand why Lady Wolfer did not take her maid or one of her lady friends to her meetings, instead of being taken by Sir Archie Walbrooke.
Burden knocked at the door at this moment, and announced that Miss Lorton's room was ready.
"Very well," said Lady Wolfer, as if relieved. "Be sure that Miss Lorton has everything she wants. And, oh, Burden, please understand that all Miss Lorton's orders are to be obeyed—I mean, obeyed without hesitation or question. She is absolutely in command here."
"Yes, my lady," responded Burden respectfully.
Nell followed her to a corridor on the next floor, and into a large and handsomely furnished room with which the bedchamber communicated. Her box had been unpacked, and its modest contents arranged in a wardrobe and drawers. The rooms looked as if they had been got ready hurriedly, but they were handsome and richly furnished, and Burden apologized for their lack of homeliness.
"I'll get some flowers, miss," she said. "There's a big box of them comes up from the country place every morning. And if you think it's cold, I'll light a fire——"
"Oh, no, no," said Nell, as brightly as she could.
"And can I help you change, miss? I'm your maid, if you please."
Nell shook her head, still smiling.
"It is all very nice," she said, "and I shall only be a few minutes. I should like to go over the house," she asked, rather timidly.
"If you ring that bell, miss, I will come at once; and I will tell Mrs. Hubbard that you want to go round with her," said Burden.
Nell, after the ardently desired "wash and change," sat down by the window and looked onto the grimy London square, whose trees and grass were burned brown, and tried to convince herself that she really was Nell of Shorne Mills; that she really was housekeeper to Lady Wolfer; that this really was life, and not a fantastic dream. But it was difficult to do so. Back her mind would travel to Shorne Mills and to—to Drake.
What had he done and said when he had got her letter? Ah, well, he would understand; yes, he would understand, and would take it as final. He would go away, to Lady Luce. They would be married. She would not think.
Providence had sent her work—work to divert her mind and save her from despair, and she would not look back,would not dwell upon the past. But how her tender, loving heart ached and throbbed with the memory of those happy weeks, with the never-to-be-forgotten kisses of the man who had won her heart, whose face and voice haunted her every moment of the day.
She sprang to her feet and rang the bell, and Burden came in and led her along the broad corridors and across the main hall. A middle-aged woman in a stiff, black dress stood waiting for her, and gave her a stately bow.
"I am Mrs. Hubbard, miss," she began, rather searchingly; but Nell's sweet face and smile melted her at once. "I shall be pleased to take you hover, miss," she commenced, a little less grumpily. "It's a big 'ouse, and not a heasy one to manage; but per'aps, your ladyship—I beg your pardon, miss—per'aps you have been used to a big 'ouse?"
"No, indeed," said Nell, whose native shrewdness told her that this was a woman who had to be conciliated. "I have never lived in anything bigger than a cottage, and I shall need all your help, Mrs. Hubbard. You will have to be very patient with me."
Mrs. Hubbard had been prepared to fight, or, at any rate, to display a haughty stand-offishness; but she went down before the sweet face and girlish voice, and, if the truth must be told, by a certain something in Nell's eyes, which shone there when theAnnie Lauriewas beating before a contrary wind; a directness of gaze which indicated a spirit, not easily quelled, lurking behind the dark-gray eyes.
Mrs. Hubbard instantly realized that this beautiful girl, young as she was, was compounded of different material to the "old frumps" who had preceded her, and whom Mrs. Hubbard had easily vanquished, and the old lady changed her tactics with rather startling promptitude.
She conducted Nell over the large place; the footmen and maidservants stood up, questionably at first, but respectfully in the end, and Nell tried to grasp the extent of the responsibility which she had undertaken.
"I think it all rests with you, Mrs. Hubbard," she said, as she sat in the housekeeper's room, Mrs. Hubbard standing respectfully—respectfully!—in front of her. "I am too young and inexperienced to run so large a place without your help; but I think—I only think—I can do it, if you stand by me. Will you do so? Yes, I think you will."
She looked up with the smile which had made slaves of all Shorne Mills in her gray eyes, and Mrs. Hubbard was utterly vanquished.
"If you come to me every morning after breakfast, we can talk matters over," said Nell, "and can decide between uswhat is to be done, and what not to be done; but you must never forget, please, that I know so little about anything."
And Mrs. Hubbard went back to the servants' hall with her mouth and her eyes set firmly.
"Now, mind," she said, with an imperial dignity to the curious and expectant servants, "there's to be no more goings-on from this time forth. No more coming in by the area gate after eleven, and no more parties in the servants' 'all when 'is lordship and ladyship is dining out! An' I'll 'ave the bells answered the first time, an' no waitin' till they're rung twice or three times, mind! An' if you want to see the policeman, Mary Jane, you can slip out for five minutes; he don't come into the house, you understan'!"
Little dreaming of the domestic reformation she had brought about, Nell went back to her room, and resumed her endeavor to persuade herself that she was not moving in a dream.
Presently a gong sounded, and, guessing that it rang for lunch, she went down to the smaller dining room, in which Mrs. Hubbard had told her that meal was usually served.
The butler and footman were in attendance, but, though covers were laid for three, there was no one present but herself.
She looked round the richly decorated and handsomely furnished room, and felt rather lonely and helpless, but it occurred to her that either Lord or Lady Wolfer might come in, and that it was her place to be there; so she sat at the head of the table—where the butler had drawn back her chair for her—and began her lunch.
By this time, she was feeling hungry—for she had eaten nothing since her very early breakfast, excepting the biscuit in Lady Wolfer's room; and she was in the middle of her soup when the footman went in a leisurely manner to the door and opened it, and a gentleman entered.
Now, Nell, from Mrs. Lorton's talk of him, and his letter, had imagined Lord Wolfer as, if not an old man, one well past middle age; she was, therefore, rather startled when she saw that the gentleman who went straight to the bottom of the table, thus proving himself to be Lord Wolfer, was anything but old; indeed, still young, as age is reckoned nowadays. He was tall and thin, and very grave in manner and expression; and Nell, as with a blush she rose and eyed him, noticed, even in that first moment, that—strangely enough—his rather handsome face wore the half-sad, half-wistful expression which she had seen cross Lady Wolfer's pretty countenance.
He had not noticed her until he had gained his chair, thenhe started slightly, as if aroused from a reverie, and came toward her.
"You are—er—Miss Lorton?" he said, with an intense gravity in his voice and eyes.
"Yes," said Nell. "And you are—Lord Wolfer?"
"Your cousin—I am afraid very much removed," he responded. "When did you arrive? I hope you had a pleasant journey?" he replied and asked as he sank into his seat.
Nell made a suitable response.
"You will take some soup? Oh, you have some. Yes; it was a long journey. Have you seen my wife—Lady Wolfer? Yes? I'm glad she was in. She is very seldom at home." He did not sigh, by any means; but his voice had a chilled and melancholy note in it. "And Sophia—Mrs. Lorton—is, I hope, well? It is very kind of you to put in an appearance so soon. I'm afraid you ought to be in bed and resting."
Nell laughed softly, and he looked as if the laugh had startled him, and surveyed her through his eyeglasses with a more lengthened and critical scrutiny than he had hitherto ventured on. The fresh, young loveliness of her face, the light that shone in her dark-gray eyes, seemed to impress him, and he was almost guilty of a common stare; but he remembered himself in time, and bent over his plate.
"I am not at all tired, Lord Wolfer," said Nell. "I am not used to traveling—this is the first long journey I have made—but I am accustomed to riding"—she winced inwardly as she thought of the rides with Drake—"and—and—sailing and yachting."
The earl nodded.
"Put the—the cutlets, or whatever they are, on the table, and you may go," he said to the butler; and when the servants had left the room he said to Nell:
"I seldom lunch at home, and I like to do so alone."
Nell smiled. Grave as he looked, she did not feel at all afraid of him.
"I did not mean that," he said, with an answering smile. "I meant without the servants. And so you have come to our assistance, Miss Lorton?"
"I don't know whether that is the way to put it," said Nell, with her usual frankness. "I'm afraid that I shall be of very little use; but I am going to try."
His lordship nodded.
"And I think you will succeed—let me hand you a cutlet. Our great trouble has been—may I trouble you for the salt? Perhaps you would prefer to have the servants in the room?"
"No, oh, no!" replied Nell, quickly, as, reaching to her fullest extent, she pushed the salt. "It is much nicer without them—I mean that I am not used to so many servants."
He inclined his head.
"As you please," he said courteously. "Our great trouble has been that my wife's public duties have prevented her from taking any share in domestic matters. She is—er—I presume she is not coming in to lunch?" he asked, with a quick glance at Nell, and an instant return to his plate.
"N-o; I think not," replied Nell. "Lady Wolfer has gone to a meeting—I'm sorry to say I forget what it is. Some—some Sisters—no, I can't remember. It is very stupid of me," she wound up penitently.
"It is of no consequence. Lady Wolfer is greatly in request; there is no movement of the advanced kind with which she is not connected," said his lordship; and though he spoke in a tone of pride, he wound up with a stifled sigh which reminded Nell of the sigh which she had heard Lady Wolfer breathe. "She is—er—an admirable speaker," he continued, "quite admirable. Did she go alone?"
The question came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, and apparently so irrelevantly, that Nell was almost startled.
"No," she replied. "A gentleman went with her."
The earl laid down his knife and fork suddenly, then picked them up again, and made a great fuss with the remains of his cutlet.
"Oh! Did you—er—did you hear who it was?"
"Yes," said Nell, "but I can't remember his name. It has quite gone for the moment;" and she knit her brows.
The earl stared straight at the épergne.
"Was it—Sir Archie Walbrooke?" he said, in a dry, expressionless voice.
Nell laughed, as one laughs at the sudden return of a treacherous memory.
"Of course, yes! That was the name," she said brightly. "How stupid of me!"
But Lord Wolfer did not laugh. He bent still lower over the cutlet, and worried the bone a minute or two in silence; then he consulted his watch, and rose.
"I beg you will excuse me," he said. "I have an appointment—a meeting——"
He mumbled himself out of the room, and Nell sat and gazed at the door which had closed behind him.
She was too innocent, too ignorant of the world, to have even the faintest idea of the trouble which lowered over the house which she had entered; but a vague dread of something intangible took possession of her.
If Nell wanted work that would prevent her dwelling upon her heart's loss, she had certainly found it at Egerton House. Before a week had passed she had slipped into her position of presiding genius; and, marvelous to relate, seeing how young and inexperienced she was, she filled it very well.
At first she was considerably worried by the condition of domestic affairs. Meals were prepared for persons who might or might not be present to eat them. Sometimes she would sit down alone to a lunch sufficient for half a dozen persons; at others, Lady Wolfer would come down at the last moment and say:
"Oh, Nell, dear"—it had very quickly come to "Nell"—"ever so many women are coming to lunch—nine or ten, I forget which. I ought to have told you, oughtn't I? And I really meant to, but somehow it slipped out of my head. And they are mostly people with good appetites. Is there anything in the house? But, there! I know you will manage somehow, won't you, dear?"
And Nell would summon the long-suffering Mrs. Hubbard, and additions would hastily be made to the small menu, and Nell would come in looking as cool and composed as if the guests had run no risk of starvation.
The dinner hour, as Lady Wolfer had said, was eight, but it was often nine or half-past before she and Lord Wolfer put in an appearance; and more than once during the week the earl had been accompanied by persons whom he had brought from the House or some meeting, and expected to have them provided for.
The cook never knew how many guests to expect; the coachman never knew when the horses and carriages would be wanted; the footmen were called upon to leave their proper duties and wait upon a mob of "advanced women" collected for a meeting—and a scramble feed—in the dining room, when perhaps a proper lunch should have been in preparation for an ordinary party.
There was no rest, no cessation of the stir and turmoil in the great house, and amid it all Nell moved like a kind of good fairy, contriving to just keep the whole thing from smashing up in chaotic confusion.
Presently everybody began to rely upon her, and came to her for assistance; and the earl himself was uneasy and dissatisfied if she were not at the head of the breakfast table, at which he and she very often made a duet. Heseemed to see Lady Wolfer very seldom, and gradually got into the habit of communicating with her through Nell. It would be:
"May I trouble you so far, Miss Lorton, as to ask Lady Wolfer if she intends going to the Wrexhold reception to-night?" Or: "Lady Wolfer wishes for a check for these bills. May I ask you to give it to her? Thank you very much. I am afraid I am giving you a great deal of trouble."
Sometimes Nell would say: "Lady Wolfer is in her room. Shall I tell her you are here?" and he would make haste to reply:
"Oh, no; not at all necessary. She may be very much engaged. Besides, I am just going out."
Grave and reserved, not to say grim, though he was, Nell got to like him. His pomposity was on the surface, and his stiffness and hauteur were but the mannerisms with which some men are cursed. At the end of the week he startled her by alluding to the salary which he had offered her in his letter.
"I am afraid you thought it a very small sum, Miss Lorton," he said. "I myself considered it inadequate; but I asked a friend what he paid in a similar case, and I was, quite wrongly, I see, guided by him."
"It is quite enough," said Nell, blushing. "I think it would have been fairer if you had not paid me anything—at any rate, to start with."
"We will, if you please, increase it to one hundred pounds," he said, ignoring her protest. "I beg you will not refuse; in fact, I shall regard your acceptance as a favor."
He rose to leave the room before Nell could reply, and Lady Wolfer, entering with her usual rapidity, nearly ran against him. He begged her pardon with extreme courtesy, and was passing out, when she stopped him with a:
"Oh, I'm glad I've seen you. Will the twenty-fourth do for the dinner party? Are you engaged for that night? I'm not, I think."
The earl's grave eyes rested on her pretty, piquant face as she consulted her ivory tablets, but his gaze was lowered instantly as she looked up at him again.
"No," he said. "Is it a large party?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm afraid so. I'm going over the list with Nell, here. Oh, for goodness' sake, don't run away, dear!" she broke off, as Nell, thinking herself rather de trop, moved toward an opposite door; and Nell, of course, remained.
"She's the most awful girl to get hold of!" said her ladyship. "If ever you want to speak to her, to have a nice, quietchat with her, she has always got to go and 'see to something.'"
"I can understand that Miss Lorton's time must be much occupied," said the earl, with a courteous little inclination of the head to Nell.
"Yes, I know; but she might occupy it with me sometimes," remarked her ladyship.
"I can give you just five minutes," said Nell, laughing. "This is just my busiest hour."
The earl waited for a minute, waited as if under compulsion and to see if Lady Wolfer had anything more to say to him, then passed out. On his way across the hall he met Sir Archie Walbrooke.
"Mornin', Wolfer," said the young man, in his slow, self-possessed way. "Lady Wolfer at home? Got to see her about—'pon my honor, forget what it was now!"
The earl smiled gravely.
"You will find her in the library, Walbrooke," he said, and went on his way.
Sir Archie was shown into the room where Lady Wolfer and Nell were conferring over the dinner party, and Lady Wolfer looked up with an easy:
"Oh, it's you, is it? What brings you here? Oh, never mind, if you can't remember; I dare say I shall presently. Meanwhile, you can help us make out this list."
"Always glad to make myself useful," he drawled, seating himself on the settee beside Lady Wolfer, and taking hold of one side of the piece of paper which she held.
They were soon so deeply engaged that Nell, eager to get to Mrs. Hubbard, left them for a while.
When she came in again, the list was lying on the floor, Lady Wolfer was leaning forward, with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her pretty face lined and eloquent of some deep emotion, and Sir Archie was talking in a low, and, for him, eager tone.
As Nell entered, Lady Wolfer rose quickly, and Sir Archie, fumbling at his eyeglass, looked for the moment somewhat disconcerted.
"If we're goin' to this place, hadn't we better go?" he said, with his usual drawl; and Lady Wolfer, murmuring an assent, left the room. Nell, following her to her room to ask a question about the dinner party, was surprised and rather alarmed at finding her pale and trembling.
"Oh, what is the matter?" Nell asked. "Are you ill?"
"No, oh, no! It is nothing," Lady Wolfer replied hastily. "Where is my hat? No, don't ring for my maid. Help me—you help me——"
She let her hand rest for a moment on Nell's arm, and looked into her grave eyes wistfully.
"Were you—were you ever in trouble, Nell?" she asked. "I mean a great trouble, which threatened to overshadow your life—not a death; that is hard enough to fight, but—how foolishly I am talking! And how white you have gone! Why, child, you can't know anything of such trouble as I mean! What is it?" she broke off, as the maid knocked at the door and entered.
"The phaëton is ready, my lady; and Sir Archie says are you going to drive, or is he? because, if so, he will change his gloves, so as not to keep your ladyship waiting."
"I don't care—oh, he can drive," said Lady Wolfer. She spoke as if the message, acting as a kind of reminder, had helped her to recover her usual half-careless, half-defiant mood. "About this dinner, Nell; will you ask Lord Wolfer if there is any one he would like asked, and add them to the list? Where did I leave it? Oh, it's in the library."
Nell went down for it, and, as she opened the door, Sir Archie came forward with an eager and anxious expression on his handsome face—an expression which changed to one of slight embarrassment as he saw that it was Nell.
"The list? Ah, yes; here it is. I'm afraid it's not fully made out; but there's plenty of time. Is Lady Wolfer nearly ready?"
Nell went away with a vague feeling of uneasiness. Had Lady Wolfer been telling Sir Archie of her "trouble"? If so, why did she not tell her husband? But perhaps she had.
Nell had no time to dwell upon Lady Wolfer's incoherent speech, for the coming dinner party provided her with plenty to think about. She had hoped that she herself would not be expected to be present, but when on the following evening she expressed this hope, Lady Wolfer had laughed at her.
"My dear child," she said, "don't expect that you are going to be let off. Of course, you don't want to be present; neither do I, nor any of the guests. Everybody hates and loathes dinner parties; but so they do the influenza and taxes; but most of us have to have the influenza and pay the taxes, all the same."
"But I haven't a dress," said Nell.
"Then get one made. Send to Cerise and tell her that I say she is to build you one immediately. Anyway, dress or no dress, you will have to be present. Why, I shouldn't be at all surprised if my husband refused to eat his dinner if you were not."
Nell laughed.
"And I know that Lord Wolfer would not notice my presence or my absence," she said.
Lady Wolfer looked at her rather curiously, certainly not jealously, but gravely and wistfully.
"My dear Nell, don't you know that he thinks very highly of you, and that he considers you a marvel of wisdom and cleverness?"
"I should be a marvel of conceit and vanity if I were foolish enough to believe that you meant some of the pretty things you say to me," remarked Nell. "And have I got the complete list of all the guests? I asked Lord Wolfer, and he said that he should like Lord and Lady Angleford invited."
Lady Wolfer nodded.
"All right. You will find their address in theCourt Guide. But I think he has the gout, and Lady Angleford never goes anywhere without him. Did—did my husband say anything more about the party—or—anything?" she asked, bending over the proofs of a speech she was correcting.
"No," said Nell. "Only that he left everything to you, of course."
"Of course," said her ladyship. "He is, as usual, utterly indifferent about everything concerning me. Don't look so scared, my child," she added, with a bitter little laugh. "That is the usual attitude of the husband, especially when he is a public man, and needs a figure to sit at the head of his table and ride in his carriages instead of a wife! There! you are going to run away, I see. And you look as if I had talked high treason. My dear Nell, when you know as much of the world as you know of your prayer book——Bah! why should I open those innocent eyes of yours? Run away—and play, I was going to say; but I'm afraid you don't get much play. Archie was saying only yesterday that we were working you too hard, and that we ought to be ashamed of ourselves."
Nell flushed rather resentfully.
"I am much obliged to Sir Archie's expression of sympathy," she began.
"Yes! You sound like it!" said Lady Wolfer, laughing. "My dear, why don't you get angry oftener? It suits you. Your face just wants that dash of color; and I'd no idea your eyes were so violety! You can give me a kiss if you like—mind the ink! Ah, Nell, some day some man will go mad over that same face and eyes of yours. Well, don't marry a politician, or a man who thinks it undignified to care for his wife! There, do go!"
As Nell went away, puzzled by Lady Wolfer's words and manner, her ladyship let her head fall upon her hand, and, sighing deeply, gazed at the "proof" as if she had forgotten it.
Nell did not send for Madame Cerise, but purchased a skirt of black lace, and set to work to make up the bodice. She was engaged on this one evening two nights before the dinner, when Burden came in with:
"A gentleman to see you, miss. He's in the library. It's Mr. Lorton, your brother, I think——"
Nell was on the stairs before the maid had finished, and running into the library, had got Dick in her arms—and his brand-new hat on the floor.
"Dick! Oh, Dick! Is it really you?"
"Yes; but there won't be much left of me if you continue garroting me; and would you mind my picking up my hat? It is the only one I've got, and we don't grow 'em at Shorne Mills! Why, Nell, how—yes, how thin you've got! And, I say, what a swagger house! I'd always looked upon mamma's swell relations as a kind of 'Mrs. Harrises,' until now."
He nodded, as he endeavored to smooth the roughened silk of his hat.
"Mamma—tell me; she is all right, Dick?"
"Oh, yes. I've got no end of messages. She's had your letters, all of 'em; and she hopes that you are taking advantage of your splendid position. Is it a splendid position, Nell? They seemed to think me of some consequence when I mentioned, dissembling my pride in the connection, that I was your brother."
Nell nodded.
"Yes, yes; it is all right, and I am quite—happy. And Shorne Mills, Dick, are they all well?"
"And kicking. I've got a hundred messages which you can sum up in 'love from all.' And, Nell, I've only time to say how are you, for I'm going to catch the Irish mail. Fact! Bardsley & Bardsley are sending me to some engineering work there. How's that for high? Ah, would you!" gingerly whisking his hat behind him. "Keep off; and, Nell, how's Drake?"
The abrupt question sent the blood rushing through Nell's face, and then as suddenly from it, leaving it stone white.
"Drake—Mr. Vernon?" she said, almost inaudibly. "I—I do not know. I—I have not seen—heard."
"No? That's rum! I should have thought that tiff was over by this time. Can't make it out! What have you been doing, Miss Lorton?"
Nell bravely tried to smile.
"You—you have seen him? You never wrote and told me, Dick! You—you gave him my note?"
Dick nodded rather gravely.
"Yes."
"And—and——" She could not speak.
"Oh, yes; I gave it him, and he said——Well, he looked broken up over it; quite broken up. He said—let me see; I didn't pay very much attention because I thought he'd write to you and see you. They generally wind up that way, after a quarrel, don't they?"
"It does not matter. No, I have not seen or heard," said Nell.
"Well, he said: 'Tell her that it's quite true.' Dashed if I know what he meant! And that he wouldn't worry you, but would obey you and not write or see you. I think that was all."
It was enough. If the faintest spark of hope had been left to glow in Nell's bosom, Drake's message extinguished it.
Her head dropped for a moment, then she looked up bravely.
"It was what I expected, Dick. It—was like him. No, no; don't speak; don't say any more about it. And you'll stay, Dick? Lady Wolfer will be glad to see you. They are all so kind to me, and——"
"I'm so glad to hear that," said Dick; "because if they hadn't been I should have insisted upon your going home. But I suppose they really are kind, and don't starve you, though you are so thin."
"It's the London air, or want of air," said Nell. "And mamma, does she"—she faltered wistfully—"miss me?"
"We all miss you—especially the butcher and the baker," replied Dick diplomatically. "And now I'm off. And, Nell—oh, do mind my hat!—if you know Drake's address, I should like to write to him."
She shook her head.
"Strange," said Dick. "I wrote to the address in London to which I posted the letters when he was ill, and it came back 'Not known.' I—I think he must have gone abroad. Well, there, I won't say any more; but—'he was werry good to me,' as poor Joe says in the novel, you know, Nell."
Yes, it was well for Nell that she had no time to dwell upon her heart's loss; and yet she found some minutes for that "Sorrow's crown of sorrow," the remembrance of happier days, as she leaned over her black lace bodice that night when the great house was silent, and the quiet room was filled with visions of Shorne Mills—visions in which Drake, the lover who had left her for Lady Luce, was the principal figure.
On the night of the big dinner party, she, having had the last consultation with Mrs. Hubbard and the butler, went downstairs. The vast drawing-room was empty, and she was standing by the fire and looking at the clock rather anxiously—forit was quite on the cards that Lady Wolfer would be late, and that some of the guests would arrive before the hostess was ready to receive them—when the door opened and her ladyship entered. She was handsomely dressed, and wore the family diamonds, and Nell, who had not before seen her so richly attired and bejeweled, was about to express her admiration, when Lady Wolfer stopped short and surveyed the slim figure of her "housekeeper companion" with widely opened eyes and a smile of surprise and friendly approval.
"My dear child, how—how——Ahem! no, it's no use; I must speak my mind! My dear Nell, if I were as vain as some women, and, like most, had a strong objection to being cut out in my own house by my own cousin, I should send you to bed! Where did you get that dress, and who made it?"
Nell laughed and blushed.
"I bought it in Regent Street—half of it—and made the rest; and please don't pretend that you like it."
"I won't," said Lady Wolfer succinctly. "My dear, you are too pretty for anything, and the dress is charming! Oh, mine! Mine is commonplace compared beside it, and smacks the modiste and the Louvre; while yours——Archie is right; you have more taste than Cerise herself——" She broke off as the earl entered. "Don't you admire Nell's dress?" she said, but with her eyes fixed on one of her bracelets, which appeared to have come unfastened.
The earl looked at Nell—blushing furiously now—with grave attention.
"I always admire Miss Lorton's dresses," he said, with a little bow. Then his eyes wandered to the white arm and the open bracelet, and he made a step toward his wife; then he hesitated, and, before he could make up his mind to fasten it, she had snapped to the clasp.
"I tell her she will cause a sensation to-night," she said, moving away.
He looked at his wife gravely.
"Indeed, yes," he said absently. "Is it not time some of them arrived?"
As he spoke, the footman announced Lady Angleford.
She came forward, her train sweeping behind her, a pleasant smile on her mignonne face.
"Am I the first, Lady Wolfer? That is the punishment for American punctuality!"
"So good of you!" murmured Lady Wolfer. "And where is Lord Angleford?"
"I'm sorry, but he has the gout!"
Lady Wolfer expressed her regret.
"And Lord Selbie?" she asked. "Shall we see him?"
"Did you ask him?" asked Lady Angleford, her brow wrinkling eagerly. "Is he in England? Have you heard that he has returned?"
Another woman would have been embarrassed, but Lady Wolfer was too accustomed to getting into scrapes of this kind not to find a way out of them.
"Isn't that like me? Nell, dear—this is my cousin and our guardian angel, Miss Lorton—Lady Angleford! Did we ask Lord Selbie?"
Nell smiled and shook her head.
"N-o," she said; "his name was not on the list, I think."
Lady Angleford, who had been looking at her with interest, went up to her.
"It wouldn't have been any use," she said. "He is abroad—somewhere."
She stifled a sigh as she spoke.
"Then there is no need for us to feel overwhelmed with guilt, Nell," said Lady Wolfer. "Come and warm yourself, my dear. Oh, that gout! No wonder you won't join the 'Advance Movement!' You've quite enough to try you. Nell, come and tell Lady Angleford how hard I work."
Nell came forward to join in the conversation; but all the time they were talking she was wondering where she had heard Lord Selbie's name!
Lord Selbie?—Lord Selbie? Nell worried her memory in vain. She had read extracts from theFashion Gazetteso often, the aristocratic names had passed out of her mind almost before she had pronounced them, and it was not surprising that she should fail to recall this Lord Selbie's.
She had not much time or opportunity for reflection, for the other guests were arriving, and the party was almost complete. As she stood a little apart, she noticed the dresses, and smiled as she felt how incapable she would be of describing their magnificence to mamma. It was her first big dinner party, and she was amused and interested in watching the brilliant groups, and in listening to the small talk.
Lady Wolfer's clear voice could be heard distinctly; but though she talked and laughed with apparent ease and freedom, Nell fancied that her ladyship was not quite at her ease, that there was something forced in her gayety, and that her laugh now and again rang false. Nell saw, too, thatLady Wolfer's glance wandered from time to time to the door, as if she were waiting for some one.
The earl came up to Nell.
"Are we all here? It is late," he said, in his grave way, and glancing at the clock.
Nell looked around and counted.
"One more," she said, in as low a tone. As she spoke, the door opened, and Sir Archie Walbrooke entered.
Nell heard Lady Wolfer hesitate in the middle of a sentence, and saw her turn away, with her back to the door.
Sir Archie came across the room in his usual deliberate fashion, as self-possessed and impassive as if he were quite ignorant that he had kept a roomful of people waiting.
Lady Wolfer gave him her hand without breaking off her conversation with the prime minister, who was chatting and laughing with the carelessness of a boy, and as if he had never even heard of a ministerial crisis.
"Afraid I'm late," said Sir Archie, in slow and even tones. "Cab horse fell down—nearly always does when I'm behind one. Strange."
"I will hand your excuse to the cook," said Lady Wolfer. "I hope he will believe it. None of us do, I assure you."
The butler announced dinner, and the party coupled and filed in, the earl taking a dowager duchess, a good-natured lady with an obvious wig and cheeks which blushed—with rouge—like unto those of a dairymaid. Nell fell to the lot of an undersecretary for the colonies, who was so great a favorite of the prime minister's that no one dreamed of asking the great man without sending an invitation to his friend, who was generally known as "Sir Charles." Like most clever men, he was simplicity itself, and he watched Nell through his pince-nez as she surveyed the brilliant line of guests round the long, oblong table, with an interest in her interest.
"How well Lady Wolfer is looking to-night," he said, staring at the hostess at the head of the table. Her eyes were bright, a faint flush on her cheeks, and her soft hair, which her maid had arranged as advantageously as short hair can be dressed, shone in the subdued light of the shaded candles. "One is so accustomed to seeing her in—well," and he smiled, "strictly business garb, that full war paint strikes one with the revelation of her prettiness."
"Yes; isn't she pretty?" said Nell eagerly. "But I always think she is; though, of course, I like her best in evening dress."
He smiled at the promptitude of her ingenious admiration.
"If I had my way, your sex should always wear one of two costumes: a riding habit or dinner dress."
"That would be rather inconvenient," said Nell. "Imagine walking out on a wet day in a habit or a ball frock!"
"I know," he said. "But I don't think you ought to walk out on a wet day."
"You ought to live in Turkey," said Nell, with a laugh.
"That is rather neat," he said approvingly; "but pray, don't repeat my speech to Lady Wolfer; she would think me exceedingly frivolous, and I spend my time in the endeavor to convince her of my gravity and discretion."
"Are all politicians supposed to be grave?" asked Nell, glancing at the prime minister, who had just related an anecdote in his own inimitable manner, and was laughing as heartily as if he had not a care in the world.
Sir Charles followed her eyes and smiled.
"Judging by Mr. Gresham, one would answer with an emphatic negative," he said. "But he is an exception to the rule. He is only grave when he is in the House—and not always then. I have known him crack a joke—and laugh at it—at the very moment the fate of his ministry swung in the balance. Some men are born boys, and remain so all their lives, and some——" He stopped and involuntarily looked at his host, who sat at the end of the table, his tall, thin figure bolt upright, his face with a kind of courteous gravity. He had heard the anecdote and paid it the tribute of a smile, but the smile had passed quickly, and his countenance had resumed its wonted seriousness in a moment.
"I always regard Lord Wolfer as a model of what a statesman should seem," said Sir Charles. "I mean that he, more than any man I know, comes up to the popular idea of a great statesman—that is, in manner and bearing."
Nell remained silent. It was not befitting that she should discuss her host and employer; and she wondered whether the clever undersecretary beside her knew who she was and the position she held in the house. She did not know enough of the world to be aware that nowadays one discusses one's friends—even at their own tables—with a freedom which would have shocked an earlier generation.
"I often think," he continued, "that Lord Wolfer would have served the moralists as an instance of the vanity of human wishes."
"Why?" Nell could not help asking.
"Think of it!" he said, with a slight laugh. "He is the bearer of an old and honored title, he is passing rich, he is a cabinet minister, he is married to an extremely clever and charming lady—we agreed that she is pretty, too, didn't we?—and——"He paused a moment. "Should you say that Lord Wolfer is a happy man?"
As he put this significant question, which explained his remark about the vanity of human wishes, Nell looked at the earl. He was apparently listening to the duchess by his side; but his eyes, under their straight, dark brows, were fixed upon his wife, who, leaning forward slightly, was listening with downcast eyes and a smile to Sir Archie, a few chairs from her.
Nell flushed.
"N-o, I don't know," she said, rather confusedly. "Lord Wolfer has so much on his mind—politics, and——He is nearly always at work; he is often in his study writing until early morning."
Sir Charles looked at her quickly.
"You know them very well. You are staying here?" he asked.
"I live here," said Nell simply. "I am what Sir Archie Walbrooke calls 'general utility.' Lady Wolfer has so much to do, and I help her keep house, or try and persuade myself that I do."
Sir Charles was too much a man of the world to be discomfited; but he laughed a little ruefully as he said:
"That serves me right for discussing people with a lady with whom I haven't the honor and pleasure of an acquaintance. It reminds me of that very old story of the man at the evening party, which you no doubt remember."
"No; I've heard so few stories, old or new," said Nell, smiling. "Please tell it me."
"I will if you'll tell me your name in exchange; mine is Fletcher, but I am usually called Sir Charles because Mr. Gresham honors me with his close friendship. 'Charles, his friend,' as they used to put it in the old play books, you know."
"I see; and my name is Lorton, Eleanor Lorton, commonly called Nell Lorton—because I have a brother. And the story?"
Sir Charles laughed.
"Oh, it's too old; but, old as it is, I had forgotten to take its moral to heart. A man was leaning against the wall, yawning, at an evening party. He was fearfully bored, for he knew scarcely any one there, and had been brought at the last moment by a friend. As he was making up his mind to cut it, another man came and leaned against the wall beside him and yawned, also. Said the first: 'Awful slow, isn't it?' 'Yes,' replied Number Two, 'frightful crush and beastly hot.' 'Dreadful. I could stand it a little longer if that woman at the piano would leave off squalling. Come roundto my club, and let us get a drink and a smoke.' 'Nothing would give me more pleasure! Wish I could!' replied Number Two. 'But you see, unfortunately for me, this is my house, and the lady at the piano is my wife.'"
Nell laughed.
"It is a good story," she said. "The first man must have felt very foolish."
"Yes," assented Sir Charles; "I know exactly how he felt. I hope you forgive me, Miss Lorton? Can I make amends in any way for my stupidity?"
"You might tell me who some of the people are," said Nell. "I only know them by name—and scarcely as much as that. I have not been here very long, and this is my first dinner party."
"How I envy you!" he said, with a sigh. "Dear me! I seem fated to put my foot into it to-night! But you know what I mean, or you would if you dined out as often as I—and Mr. Gresham do. Whom would you like me to tell you about? I think I know everybody here. One moment! Mr. Gresham is going to tell the story of his losing himself in London; it was in one of the new streets, for the making of which he had been a strong advocate."
They waited until the story was told, and the prime minister had enjoyed the laughter, and then Nell said:
"That little lady with the diamond tiara and the three big rubies on her neck is Lady Angleford—I know her name because I was introduced to her before dinner. I like the look of her so much; and she has so pleasant a voice and smile. Please tell me something about her."
"An easy task," said Sir Charles. "She is Lord Angleford's young wife—an American heiress. I like her very much. In fact, though I have not known her very long, I am honored with her friendship. And yet I ought not to like her," he added, almost to himself.
Nell opened her eyes upon him.
"Why not?" she asked.
Sir Charles was silent for a moment; then he said, as if he were weighing his words, and choosing suitable ones for his auditor:
"Lord Angleford has a nephew who is a great, a very great friend of mine—Lord Selbie. He was Lord Angleford's heir; but—well, his uncle's marriage may make all the difference to him."
Nell knit her brows and made another call on her memory.
"Of course!" she exclaimed, in a tone of triumph, which rather surprised Sir Charles. "I remember reading about it. Lord Selbie! Yes—oh, yes; I recollect."
Her voice grew sad and absent, as she recalled the afternoonwhen Mrs. Lorton had insisted upon her reading the stupid society paper to Drake. How long ago it seemed! How unreal!
"I dare say," said Sir Charles. "It's one of those things which the world chatters about, and the newspapers paragraph. Poor Selbie!"
"Was he a very great friend of yours?" asked Nell, rather mechanically, her eyes wandering from one face to another.
"Yes, very great," replied the undersecretary, with a warmth which one does not look for in a professional politician. "We were at Eton together, and we saw a great deal of each other afterward, though he went into the army, and I, for my sins, fell into politics. He is one of the best of fellows, an Admirable Crichton, at once the envy and the despair of his companions. There is scarcely anything that Selbie doesn't do, and he does all things well—the best shot, the best rider, the best fencer, the best dancer of his set, and the best-hearted. Poor old chap!"
It was evident that he had, in his enthusiasm, almost forgotten his auditor.
"Where is he now?" asked Nell. "I heard Lady Angleford say that he is abroad."
"Yes. No one knows where he is. He has disappeared. It sounds a strong word, but it is the only one that will meet the case. And perhaps it was the best thing he could do. When a man's prospects are blighted, and his ladylove has jilted him——"
Nell turned quickly. She had tried to remember the whole of the paragraph she had read to Drake, but she could not.
"What was the name of the lady who—who jilted him?" she asked.
Sir Charles was about to reply, and if he had spoken, Nell would have learned Drake's identity; but at that moment there came a lull in the conversation, and before it had recommenced, the prime minister leaned forward and asked a question of his friend. The answer led to a general discussion, and at its close Lady Wolfer smiled and raised her eyebrows at the duchess, received a responsive nod, and the ladies rose.
Sir Archie was the gentleman nearest the door, and he opened it for them. As Lady Wolfer was passing through, a flower fell from the bosom of her dress. He picked it up and held it out to her, with a bow and a smile; but she had turned to say something to the lady behind her, and he drew his hand back and concealed the flower in it.
Nell, who chanced to be looking at him, was, perhaps, the only one who saw the action, and she thought little of it.He could scarcely interrupt Lady Wolfer by a too-insistent restoration of the blossom.
With the flower in his hand, Sir Archie went back to the table. The other men had closed up near the earl, but Sir Archie retained his seat. He allowed the butler to fill his glass and raised it to his lips with his right hand; then, after a moment or two, he took the flower from his left and fixed it in the buttonhole of his coat.
It was a daring thing to do; but he had been—well, not too sparing of the wine, and his usually pale and impassive face was flushed, and indicative of a kind of suppressed excitement.
Perhaps he thought that no one would recognize the flower, and probably no one did—no one, that is, but the earl. His eyes, as they glanced down the row of men, saw the blossom in its conspicuous place in Sir Archie's coat, and the earl's face went white, and his thin lips twitched.
"Have you any wine, Walbrooke?" he asked.
The butler had left the room.
Sir Archie started, as if his thoughts had been wandering.
"Eh? Oh—ah! thanks!" he said.
He took the decanter from the man next him, and filled his glass. The earl's eyes rested grimly upon the flower for a moment, then, as if with an effort, he turned to Mr. Gresham and got into talk with him. No man in the whole world was more ready to talk than the prime minister. The other men joined in the conversation, which was anything but political—all but Sir Archie. He sat silent and preoccupied, filling his glass whenever the decanter was near him, and drinking in a mechanical way, as if he were scarcely conscious of what he was doing. Now and then he glanced at the flower in his coat, deeming the glance unnoticed; but the earl saw it, and every time he detected the downward droop of the eyes, his own grew sterner and more troubled.
Meanwhile, in the drawing-room, the ladies were sipping their coffee and conversing in the perfunctory fashion which prevails while they are awaiting the arrival of the gentlemen.
Lady Wolfer, who had, up to the present, borne her part in the entertainment extremely well, suddenly appeared to have lost all interest and all desire to continue it. She seated herself beside the fire and next the easy-chair into which the duchess had sunk, and gazed dreamily over the screen which she held in her hand. Some of the ladies gathered in little groups, others turned to the books and albums, one or two yawned almost openly. A kind of blight seemed falling upon them. Nell, who was unused to the phenomena of dinner parties, looked round, aghast. Were they all going to sleep? Suddenly she realized that it was at just such a moment asthis that she was supposed to come in. She went up to Lady Wolfer and bent down to her.
"Won't somebody play or sing?" she asked. "They all seem as if they were going to sleep."
"Let them!" retorted Lady Wolfer, almost loudly enough for those near to hear. "I don't care. Ask some one to sing, if you like."
Nell went up to a young girl who stood, half yawning, before a picture of Burne-Jones'.
"Will you play or sing?" she asked.
The girl looked at her with languid good humor.
"I'd sing; but I can't. I have no parlor tricks," she said. "Besides, what's the use? Nobody wants it," and she smiled with appalling candor.