Gnawing at her underlip, she entered her room, flung herself into a chair, and beat a tattoo with her foot. The door opened softly, and Burden stole in. She was very pale, there were dark marks under her eyes, and she trembled so violently that the brushes rattled together as she took them from the table.
Lady Luce looked up at her angrily.
"What is the matter with you?" she demanded. "You look more like a ghost than a human being, or as if you'd been drinking."
Burden winced under the insult, and stole behind her mistress' chair; but Lady Luce faced round after her.
"You're not fit to do my hair, or anything else!" she said. "What is the matter now? Your mother or one of your other relations, I suppose. You always have some excuse or other for your whims and fancies."
"I—I am rather upset, my lady!" Burden responded, almost inaudibly. "The—the robbery——"
"What does it concern you?" said Lady Luce sharply. "It is no affair of yours; your business is to wait upon me, and if you can't or won't do it properly——"
The brush fell from Burden's uncertain hand, and Lady Luce sprang to her feet in a passion.
"Oh, go away! Get out of my sight!" she said contemptuously. "Go down to the kitchen and tremble and shake with the other maids. I can't put up with you to-night."
"I'm—I'm very sorry, my lady. I'm upset—everybody's upset."
"Oh, go—go!" broke in Lady Luce impatiently. "If you are not better to-morrow, you'd better go for good!"
Burden stood for a moment uncertainly; then, with a stifled sob, left the room, and went down the corridor toward the servants' apartments; but halfway she stopped, hesitated, then descended the back stairs and stole softly along one of the passages. A door from the smoking room opened on to this passage, and against this she leaned and listened.
Sparling and the grooms who had joined in the pursuit of the burglars had come back full of the chase and its results, and there was an excited and dramatic recital going on in the servants' hall at that moment; but she dared not go there, though she was in an agony of anxiety to know the whole truth and the fate of her lover. Her face, her overwrought condition, would have betrayed her; so, at the least, would have caused surprise and aroused suspicion. She could not face the servants' hall, but she knew that the gentlemen would be discussing the affair in the smoking room, and that if she could listen unseen she should hear what had happened to Ted. It was Ted, and nothing, no one else she cared about.
All the men were in the smoking room, and all were plying Drake with questions. Drake, knowing that he would have to go through it, was giving as concise an account of it as was possible. He was wearied to death, not only of the burglary, but of the emotions he had experienced, and his voice was low and his manner that of a man talking against his will; but Burden heard every word, for, at its lowest, Drake's voice was singularly clear.
She listened, motionless as a statue, till he came to the point where the burglar had turned and faced him. Then she moved and had hard work to stifle a moan.
"That was a near thing, Angleford!" said Lord Turfleigh, over the edge of his glass; "a deuced near thing! If I'd been you, I should have cried a go, and let the fellow off.Dash it all! a man in your position has no right to risk his life, even for such diamonds as the Angleford."
Drake laughed shortly.
"I didn't think of the diamonds," he said quietly. "It was a match between me and the man. He missed me and bolted to cover. I followed, and he slipped behind a tree and aimed; but he missed—fortunately for me."
"Missed you?" said Lord Wolfer, who had been listening attentively and in silence. "How was that? You must have been very near?"
Drake was silent for a moment; then, as if reluctantly, he replied:
"There were several persons engaged in the game. One of them was a young lady who is staying at the lodge—the south lodge. She happened to be out, strolling in the garden, and heard the rumpus. And she"—he lit a fresh cigarette—"she sprang on him and struck his arm up!"
"No!" exclaimed one of the men. "Dash it all! Angleford, if this isn't the most dramatic, sensational affair I've ever heard of."
"Yes?" came in Drake's grave, restrained tones. "Yes, that saved my life."
There was a moment's silence, an impressive silence, then he went on:
"And did for the man. If he had disposed of me, he could have shot poor Mr. Falconer at the gate and got off. As it was——" He stopped and seemed to consider. "Well, it left me free to collar him at the gate, but not, unfortunately, until he had wounded Falconer."
"Poor devil!" muttered Lord Turfleigh. "Hard lines on him, eh, Angleford?"
"Yes," said Drake gravely.
"Then, as I understand it," said Lord Wolfer, "your life, the salvation of the countess' jewels, and the capture of the burglar are due to this lady?"
"That is so," assented Drake quietly.
"Who is she? What is her name?" asked several men, in a breath.
There was a pause, during which Burden listened breathlessly.
"Her name is Lorton," said Drake, very quietly. "She is staying at the south lodge."
Burden started and bit her lip. Lorton? Where had she heard——
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lord Wolfer. "You don't mean that Miss Lorton who was with us?"
Drake nodded.
"The same," he said gravely.
Burden's lips twitched, and her hands gripped the edge of the door frame.
There was silence for a moment, then one of the men asked:
"And what do you think the fellow will get, Angleford?"
"It all depends," replied Drake, after a pause. "If this fellow Falconer should die——Well, it will be murder. If not—and God grant he may not!—it will be burglary simply, and it will mean penal servitude for so many years."
"And serve him right, whichever way it goes!" cried one of the men. "Anyway, this young lady, this Miss Lorton, is a brick! Here's her health!"
Burden waited for no more. She was white still, but she was trembling no longer. Her eyes were glowing savagely, and her lips were strained tightly. Her sweetheart was captured; he would either be hanged or sentenced to penal servitude; and Miss Lorton was the person with whom she had to reckon!
Before morning Falconer became delirious. He did not rave nor shout, but he talked incessantly, with his eyes wide open and fixed vacantly, and his long hand plucking at the bedclothes. Nell stole in from her room, though she had promised to rest and leave the night duty to the village nurse, and, sitting beside him, held his hand.
At the touch of her cool fingers he became quiet for a moment or two, and something like a smile crossed his pain-lined face; but presently he began again. Sometimes he was back at the Buildings, and he hummed a bar or two of music while his fingers played on the counterpane as if it were a piano. Once or twice he murmured her name in a tone which brought the color to Nell's face and made her heart ache. But it did not need the whisper of her name to tell her Falconer's secret. She knew that he loved her, for he had told her so at the moment when Drake had seen them walking together in the garden.
And as she sat and held his hand, she tried to force her mind from dwelling on Drake, and to remember the devotion of the stricken man beside her.
Though he had confessed his love, he had asked for nothing in return. He had said that he knew that his passion was hopeless, but that he could not help loving her, that he must continue to do so while life lasted.
"I will never speak of it again," he had said. "You need not be afraid. I don't know why I told you now; it slippedout before I knew——No, don't be afraid. All I ask is that you should still look upon me as a friend, that you will still let me be near you as often as is possible. It is too much to ask? If so, I will go away—somewhere, and cease to trouble you with the sight of me!"
And Nell, with tears in her eyes—as Drake had seen—had given him her hand in silence, for a moment or two, and then, almost inaudibly, had answered:
"I am sorry—sorry! Oh, why did you tell me? No, no; forgive me! But you must not go. I—I could not afford to lose your—friendship!"
"That you shall not do!" he had said, very quietly, and with a brave smile. "Please remember that I said I knew there was no hope for me. How could there be? How could it be possible for you—you!—to care for me? But a weed may dare to love the sun, Miss Lorton, though it is only a weed and not a stately flower. I ought not to have told you; but that little success of mine, and the prospect it has opened out, must have turned my head. But you have forgiven me, have you not? and you will try and forget that I was mad enough to show you my heart?"
He had not waited for her to respond, but had left her at once, and, so that she should not think him quite heartbroken, had hummed an air as he went.
And now that he lay here 'twixt life and death, Nell's heart ached for him, and she longed, with a longing beyond all words, that she could have returned the love he bore her.
But alas, alas! she had no love to give. Drake had stolen it long ago, there at Shorne Mills; and though he had flung it from him, it could not come back to her.
Even as she sat, with Falconer's hand in hers, she could not keep her mind from dwelling on Drake, though the failure of her attempt to do so covered her with shame. She had been in his arms again, had heard his voice, and the glamour of his presence and his touch were upon her.
His face hovered before her in the dim light of the sick room, and filled her with the aching longing of unsatisfied love.
Oh, why could she not forget him? Why could she not bring herself to accept, to return, the love of the man who loved her with all his heart and soul? He was all that was good, he was a genius, and a brave man to boot! Surely any woman might be proud to possess him for a husband, might learn to love him!
She turned and looked at him as he lay, his head tossing restlessly on the pillow, his lips moving deliriously; but though her whole being was stirred with pity for him, pity isnot love, though it may be nearly akin, and one cannot force love as one forces a hothouse plant.
After a while he became weaker, and the rambling, incoherent talk ceased; but she was still holding his hand when Dick and the doctor came in again. She sought the latter's face eagerly, but he merely smiled encouragingly.
"He has had a better night than I expected," he said, "and the temperature is not exceedingly high. You had better get some rest, Miss Lorton; you have been sitting up, I see."
Dick drew Nell out of the room.
"Drake—confound it! Lord Angleford, I mean!—has sent for Sir William. Is—is he going to die, do you think. Nell?"
Nell shook her head, her eyes filling.
"I don't know; I hope not. You—you have seen Dra—Lord Angleford, Dick?"
"Just now. He came to inquire. Nell, I can't understand it, though he has tried to explain why he hid his real name; and—and—Nell—he didn't tell me why you and he broke it off."
She flushed for a moment.
"There was no need," she said. "It does not matter."
Dick sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
"No, I suppose it doesn't; but it's a mysterious affair. I hear he is going to marry that fair woman, Lady Luce."
Nell inclined her head, her lips set tightly.
"It's a pity we can't get away from here," he said gloomily. "It's jolly awkward. Though Drake was more than friendly with me last night and just now. He's awfully changed."
They were standing by the window of the sitting room, and Nell was looking out with eyes that saw nothing.
"Changed?"
"Yes; he looks years older, and he's stern and grave as if——Well, he doesn't look the same man, and it strikes me that he's anything but happy, though he is the Earl of Angleford, and going to marry one of the most beautiful woman in England."
Nell stood with compressed lips and eyes fixed on vacancy.
"He got a nasty blow last night," said Dick, after a pause.
Her manner changed in a moment, and her eyes flew round to him.
"He was hurt?" she said, with a catch in her breath.
Dick nodded.
"Yes; that ruffian struck him with the revolver or something.And I say, Nell, I haven't heard your share in this affair yet. Drake told me that the fellow struck you."
"Did he?" she said indifferently. "I—I don't remember. Was Lord Angleford badly hurt? Tell me."
"Oh, no; I think not; not badly," replied Dick. "There's a bruise on his temple; but what's that to the damage poor Falconer suffered? Drake says that it was the pluckiest thing he's seen. Oh, Lord! what a sickening business it is! Thank goodness, they've got the fellow. It will be a lifer for him, that's one consolation."
Nell shuddered.
"And they've got the jewels back, that's another," said Dick, more cheerily. "Though I'd rather the fellow had got off with them than poor Falconer should have been hurt. What beastly bad luck, just after he'd struck oil and got a start! Drake says that Falconer will be a celebrity, if he lives; and you may depend Drake will do his best to make his words good. There'll be a 'Falconer boom,' mark my words. I never saw any one so concerned about a man as Drake is about him. He was here outside talking with the doctor before it was light. The whole of the remainder of the big house is to be placed at our disposal. In short, if it had been Drake himself who was stabbed, there couldn't be more concern shown. Here's the breakfast, and for the first time in my life, I don't want it. Why the deuce can't the swells look after their blessed diamonds?"
Nell gave him his coffee, and then stole up to her own room and flung herself on the bed.
Drake was hurt. It might have been Drake instead of Falconer lying between life and death. Her heart throbbed with thankfulness; but the next moment she hid her face in her hands for very shame. She tried to sleep, but she could not, and it was almost a relief when the servant knocked and said that two ladies from the Hall were downstairs.
"But I was not to disturb you if you was asleep, miss," she added, with naïveté.
Nell bathed her face and smoothed her hair quickly, and went down; and, as she entered the sitting room, was taken into Lady Wolfer's embrace.
"My dear, dear Nell!" she cried, in the subdued tones due to the sick room above. "Why, it's like a fairy story! Why didn't I or some of us know you were here, till last night? You remember Lady Angleford, dear?"
The countess came forward and held out her hand with her friendly and gentle smile.
"Come to the light and let me look at you," Lady Wolfer went on, drawing Nell to the window; "though it's scarcely fair, after all you have gone through. Nell, who wouldhave thought that we were entertaining a heroine unawares? We knew you were an angel, of course; but a heroine—a heroine of romance! You dear, brave girl!"
Nell colored painfully.
"The whole place, the whole county, by this time, to say nothing of London and every other place where a telegraph wire runs, is full of it."
"Oh, I am sorry!" said poor Nell, aghast.
Lady Angleford smiled.
"It is the penalty one pays for heroism, Miss Lorton," she said; "and you must forgive me for being grateful to you for saving Lord Angleford's life."
"Oh, but I didn't—indeed I didn't!" exclaimed Nell, in distress.
"Oh, but indeed you did!" retorted Lady Wolfer. "Lord Angleford says so, and he ought to know. He says that but for you the wretch would have shot him—he was quite close."
Nell's face was white again now, and the countess came to her aid.
"We are forgetting one of the objects of our visit," she said. "You know how anxious we are about Mr. Falconer, Miss Lorton. I hope he is in no danger, my dear?"
She took Nell's hand as she spoke, and pressed it, and Nell colored again under the sympathy in the countess' eyes.
"When I heard that he had been injured, I wished with all my heart that the man had got clear off with the miserable diamonds—I was going to say 'my' miserable diamonds, but they are only mine for a time. But I am sure Lord Angleford joins me in that wish. All the diamonds in the world are not worth rescuing at such a price as Mr. Falconer—and you—have paid. I hope you can tell us he is better. We are all terribly anxious about him."
Now, even in the stress and strain of the moment, Nell noticed a certain significance in the countess' tone, a personal sympathy with herself, conveyed plainly by the "and you," and it puzzled her. But she put the faint wonder aside.
"I don't know," she said simply. "He is very ill—he was badly stabbed. He has been delirious most of the night——"
"My poor Nell!" murmured Lady Wolfer, pressing her hand.
"I hope the nurse you have in to help you is a good one," said the countess, as if she took it for granted that Nell was also nursing him. "If not, we will send to London for one; indeed, Sir William may bring one with him. I don't know what Lord Angleford telegraphed."
"I wish we could do something for you, Nell," whisperedLady Wolfer. "Only last night, before the burglary, we were arranging that we would come down here and carry you—by main force, if necessary—up to the Hall. And now——But, dear, you must not lose heart! He may not be badly hurt; and the surgeons do such wonderful things now. Perhaps, when Sir William comes, he may tell you that there is no danger whatever, and that you will have him well again before very long."
Her eyes dwelt on Nell's with tender pity and womanly sympathy; and Nell, still puzzled, could only remain silent. As if she could not say enough, Lady Wolfer drew her to the window, and continued, in a lower voice:
"I meant to congratulate you, Nell, and I do. I—we all admired him so much the other night, little guessing the truth; and now that he has proved himself as brave as he is clever, one can understand your losing your heart to him. All the same, dear, I think he is a very—very lucky man."
The red stained Nell's face, and then left it pale again. She opened her lips to deny that she and Falconer were engaged, but at that moment a dogcart drove through the gate and stopped at the lodge.
"Here is Drake!" said the countess. "He has been to Angleford to see the police."
Nell drew away from the window quickly, and the countess went out as Drake got down from the cart.
"How is he?" Nell heard him ask. Though she had moved from the window, she could see him. He looked haggard and tired, and she saw the bruise on his temple. Her heart beat fast, and she turned away and leaned her arm on the mantelshelf. "And—and Miss Lorton?" he inquired, after the countess had replied to his first question.
She lowered her voice.
"She looks very ill, but she is bearing up wonderfully. It is a terrible strain for her, poor girl."
Drake nodded gloomily.
"Tell her that Sir William will be down by the midday train. And tell her not to give up hope. I saw the wound, and——"
"Hush! She may hear," whispered the countess.
He glanced toward the window, and the color rose to his face.
"Is she there?" he asked.
"Yes. Would you like to see her?"
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground; then he said, rather stiffly:
"No; she might think it an intrusion"—the countess stared at him. "No; I won't trouble her. But please tell her that everything shall be done for—him."
The countess accompanied him to the gate.
"You have been to the police?"
He nodded almost indifferently.
"Yes; the man is well known. We were flattered by the attentions of a celebrated cracksman. I've seen the detective in charge of the case, and given him all the particulars. He says that the men were assisted by some one inside the house—one of the servants, he suggests."
The countess looked startled.
"Surely not, Drake! Who could it be?"
He shrugged his shoulders with the same indifference.
"Can't tell. It doesn't matter. I've sent the things to the bank, and the other people will look after their jewels pretty closely after this. I wouldn't worry myself, countess."
"But you are worrying, Drake!" she said shrewdly, as she looked at his haggard face. "About this poor Mr. Falconer, of course!"
He started slightly, but he was too honest to assent.
"Partly; but there is no need for you to follow my example. I'll go on now."
He got up and drove off, but slowly, and he put the horse to a walk as he neared the house.
He had not seen Luce that morning, for he had been out, inquiring at the lodge at six, and had gone straight on to Anglebridge, where he had breakfasted.
In his heart he had been glad of the excuse for his absence, for the few hours of reprieve. But he would have to see her now, would have to ask her to be his wife—while his heart ached with love for Nell!
As he drove up to the door, one of the Angleford carriages came round from the stables. He glanced at it absently, and entered the hall slowly, draggingly, and was amazed to find Lord Turfleigh, in overcoat and hat, standing beside a pile of luggage.
"By George! just in time, Drake!" he exclaimed, his thick voice quavering with suppressed excitement, his hands shaking as he tugged at his gloves. "Just had bad news—deuced bad news!"
But though he described the intelligence as bad, there was a note of satisfaction in his voice.
"I'm sorry. What is it?" asked Drake.
"Buckleigh—Buckleigh and his boy gone down in that infernal yacht of his!" said Lord Turfleigh hoarsely.
He turned aside as he spoke to take a brandy and soda which the footman had brought.
The Marquis of Buckleigh was Lord Turfleigh's elder brother, and, if the news were true, Lord Turfleigh was now the marquis, and a rich man.
Drake understand the note of satisfaction in the whisky-shaken voice.
"Just time to catch the train!" said the new marquis. "Where the devil is Luce? I always said Buckleigh would drown himself——Where is Luce? She thinks I'll go without her; but I won't!" He swore.
At that moment Lady Luce came down the stairs. She was coming down slowly, reluctantly, her fair face set sullenly; but at sight of Drake her expression changed, and she ran down to him. There might yet be time for the one word.
"Drake!" she cried, in a low voice, "I am going——You have heard?"
"Yes, yes," her father broke in testily. "I've told him. Get in. It will be a near thing as it is. Come on, I tell you!" and he shambled down the steps to the carriage.
She held Drake's hand and looked into his eyes appealingly.
"You see! I must go!" she murmured.
He nodded gravely.
"But you will come back?" he said, as gravely. "Come back as soon as you can."
Her face lit up, and she breathed softly. She was now the daughter of a rich man, but she wanted Drake, none the less.
"The Fates are against me, Drake," she whispered; "but I will come back."
"Where the devil is that confounded maid of yours, Luce?" Turfleigh called to her.
Burden came down the stairs. Her veil was drawn over the upper part of her face, but the lower part was white to the lips.
"I'm half inclined to leave her behind," said Lady Luce irritably. "Pray be quick, Burden!"
Burden got up on the box seat without a word.
Drake put Lady Luce in, held her hand for a moment, then the carriage started, and he was standing alone, staring after it half stupidly.
He was still free!
Two days later, Nell sat beside Falconer. He was asleep, but every now and then he moved suddenly, and his brows knit as if he were suffering.
The great surgeon—who, by the way, was small and short of stature—had come down, made his examination, said afew cheerful words to the patient, gone up to the Hall to dinner—at which he had talked fluently of everything but the case—and returned to London with a big check from Drake. But though he did not appear to have accomplished anything beyond a general expression of approval of everything the local man had done, all persons concerned felt encouraged and more hopeful by his visit; and when Falconer showed signs of improvement it was duly placed to Sir William's credit. There is much magic in a great name.
But the improvement was very slight, and Nell, as she watched the wounded man, often felt a pang of dread shoot through her. Sometimes she was assailed by the idea that Falconer was not particularly anxious to live. When he was awake he would lie quite still, save when a spasm of pain visited him, with his dark eyes fixed dreamily upon the window; though when she spoke to him he invariably turned them to her with a world of gratitude, a wealth of devotion in them.
And for the last two days the pity in Nell's tender heart had grown so intense that it had become own brother to love itself. When a woman knows that she can make a good man happy by just whispering "I love you," she is sorely tempted to utter the three little pregnant words, especially when she herself knows what it is to long for love.
She could make this man who worshiped her happy, and—and was it not possible in doing so she might find, if not happiness, contentment for herself?
A hundred times during the last two days she had asked herself this question, until she had grown to desire that the answer might be in the affirmative. Perhaps if she were betrothed to Falconer she would learn to forget Drake, for whose voice and footstep she was always waiting.
On this afternoon, as she sat at her post, she was dwelling on the problem, which had become almost unendurable at last, and she sighed wearily.
Falconer awoke, as if he had heard her, and turned his eyes upon her with the slow yet intense regard of the very weak.
"Are you there still?" he asked, in a low voice. "I thought you promised me that, if I went to sleep, you would go out, into the garden, at least."
"It wasn't exactly a promise. Besides, I don't think you have been really asleep; and if you have it is not for long enough," she said, smiling, and "hedging" in truly feminine fashion. "Are you feeling better—not in so much pain?"
"Oh, yes," he replied. "I'm in no pain." He told the falsehood as admirably as he managed his face when he was awake, but it gave him away when he was asleep. "I shallbe quite well presently. I wish to Heaven they would let me be removed to the hospital!"
"That sounds rather ungrateful," said Nell, with mock indignation. "Don't you think we are taking enough care of you?"
He sighed.
"When I lie here and think of all the trouble I've given, I sometimes wish that that fellow's knife had found the right place. Though I suppose they'd have hanged him if it had."
Nell shuddered.
"Is that the only reason you regret he did not kill you?" she said.
"Am I to speak the truth?"
"Nothing else is ever worth speaking," she remarked, in a low voice.
"Well, then, yes. I am not so enamored of life as to cling to it very keenly," he said, stifling a sigh. "I don't mean because I have had a rough time of it—the majority of the sons of men find the way paved with flints—but because——What an ungrateful brute I must seem to you. Forgive me; I'm still rather weak."
"Rather!"
"Very weak, then; and I talk like a hysterical girl. But, seriously, if any man were given his choice, I think he'd prefer to cross the river at once to facing the gray and dreary days that lie before him."
"But the days that lie before you are brilliant; crimson with fame and fortune, instead of gray and dreary," she said. "Have you forgotten your success at—at the ball? that you were to play at the duchess'? Everybody says that you will become famous, that a great future lies before you, Mr. Falconer."
"Do they?" he said, gazing at the window dreamily. "No, I have not forgotten. I wonder whether they are right?"
"I know, I feel, they are right," she said quietly. "Very soon we shall all be bragging of your acquaintance—I, for one, at any rate. I shall never lose an opportunity of talking of 'my friend, Mr. Falconer, the great musician, you know.'"
"Yes," he said, looking at her with a faint smile. "I think you will be pleased. And I——"
He paused.
"Well?" she asked.
"If the prophecy comes true, I shall spend my time looking back at the old days, and sighing for the Buildings, for that sunny room of yours, with the tea kettle singing on the hob, and——Has Dick come back from Angleford?"
Nell nodded.
"And the man? Has he been committed for trial?"
"Yes," she replied. "But I don't want to speak of that—it isn't good for you."
He was silent a moment; then he said:
"Do you know, I've got a kind of sneaking pity for the man. He wanted the diamonds badly—he needed them more than the countess did. What would it have mattered to her if he had got off with them? And he risked his liberty and his life for them. A man can't do more than that for the thing he wants."
Nell tried to laugh.
"I have never listened to a more immoral sentiment," she said. "I think you had better go to sleep again. But I understand," she added, as if she were compelled to do so.
"And I fancy the reflection that he made a good fight for it—and it was a good one; he was a plucky fellow!—must console him for his failure. After all, one can only try."
"Try to steal other people's jewels," said Nell.
"Try for what seems the best—what one wants," he said dreamily. "I wonder whether he would have been satisfied if he had got off with, say, a small box of trinkets?"
"I should imagine he would consider himself very lucky," said Nell, her eyes downcast.
"Do you think so?" asked Falconer quietly. "Somehow, I fancy you're wrong. He would have hankered after those diamonds for the rest of his life, and no amount of small trinkets would have consoled him for having missed them. Though I dare say, being a plucky fellow, he would have made the best of it."
Nell began to tremble. The parable was plain to her. The man beside her had failed to win the woman he loved, and would try to make the best of the poor trinkets of fame and success. Her lips quivered, and her eyes drooped lower.
"Perhaps—perhaps he would have tried for the diamonds again," she said, almost inaudibly.
He looked at her with a sudden light in his eyes, a sudden flush on his white face.
"Do—do you think so? Do you think it would have been any use?"
Nell rose, and brought some milk and water for him.
"I—I don't know," she said. "I—I think, if he felt that he wanted them so badly, he would have tried again; and that—that—he might——"
He raised himself on his elbow and looked at her fixedly, his breath coming fast, his eyes searching hers.
"Ah!" he said. "You think that if he came to thecountess and whined for the things, she would have given them to him out of sheer pity! Is that it?"
Nell shook her head.
"One can't imagine his being such a cur, such a fool, as to do it!" he said, sinking back. "And yet that is what I am! See how weak and cowardly I am, Nell! I promised that I would never again trouble you with my love; that I would be content to be your friend—your friend only; and yet a few days' sickness, and I am crawling at your feet and begging you to take compassion on me! And you'd do it!—yes, I know what you meant when you said that the man would try for the diamonds again!—out of womanly pity you would! Oh, shame on me for a cur to take advantage of my weakness!"
"Hush, hush!" she said brokenly. "I meant what I said; I—I——" She tried to smile. "I am a woman, and—and may change my mind!"
"But not your heart!" he said. He raised himself on his elbow again. "For God's sake, don't tempt me! I—I am not strong enough to resist. I want my diamonds so badly, you see, that I would stoop to stealing them. Nell, don't tempt me!"
He sank back, and put his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the beautiful face of the girl he loved.
Nell sank into a chair, and sat silent for a moment; then she said, in a low voice:
"I want to tell you the truth."
He took his hand away from his eyes, and fixed them on her downcast face.
"Go on," he said. "Tell me everything; why—why you have aroused a hope—the dearest hope of my life——But no; it never was a hope, only a hopeless longing. Ah! if you knew what such love meant, you would forgive me for my weakness, for my cowardice. To long day and night! If you knew!"
"Perhaps I do!" she whispered, in so low a voice that it was wonderful he should have heard her. But he did hear, and he turned to her quickly.
"You! And I—I never guessed it! Oh, forgive me! forgive me! Then indeed there never was any hope for me. I understand! How blind I have been! Who——No; I've no right to ask. Now I understand the look in your eyes which has often haunted and puzzled me. Oh, what a blind, blundering fool I have been all this time!"
"Hush!" she said, still so low that he could only just hear the broken murmur. "I—I am glad you did not know. I—I would not have told you now, if—if it were not all past and done with!"
"Nell!" he said.
"Yes, it is all past and done with," she repeated. "And—and I want to forget it. I want you—to help me! Oh! must I speak more plainly? Won't you understand? If you will be content to take me—knowing what I have told you—if you will be content to wait until I—I have quite forgotten! and I shall soon, very soon——"
He stretched out his hand to her, an eager cry on his lips.
"Content!" he said. "You ask me if I shall be content!"
Then, as she put out her hand to meet his, he saw her face. It was white to the lips, and there was a look in her eyes more full of agony than his own had worn at his worst times. He let his hand fall on the bed.
"Is it all past?" he asked doubtfully.
She was about to speak the word "Yes," when a voice came from below through the open window. It was Drake talking to Dick. The blood flew to her face, her brows came together, and she shrank as if some one had struck her.
Falconer, with his eyes fixed upon her, heard the voice, saw the change on her face. The light died out of his eyes, and slowly, very slowly, he drew his hand back.
Nell stood looking before her, her lips set tightly, her eyes downcast. It was a terrible moment, in which she appeared under a spell so deep as to cause her to forget the presence of the man beside her. And, as he watched her, the life seemed to die out of his face as well as his eyes.
The door opened, and Dick came in.
"Drake's come to inquire after the patient," he said. "How are we, Falconer?"
"Better," said Falconer, with a smile; "much better. Couldn't you persuade Miss Lorton to take down the report, Dick?"
Dick nodded commandingly at Nell.
"Yes; you go, Nell."
She hesitated a moment; then she raised her head and glanced at Falconer reproachfully.
"Yes, I will go," she said, almost defiantly.
Drake leaned against the rails in the sunlight, softly striking his riding whip against his leg. His horse's bridle was hitched over the gate, and as he waited for Dick he thought of the time when the bridle had been hitched over another gate.
He heard a step lighter than Dick's on the stairs behind him, and slowly turned his head. The sun was streaming through the doorway, so that the slim, graceful figure and lovely face were set as in an aureole. A thrill ran throughhim, the color rose to his bronzed face, and he stood motionless and speechless for a moment; then he raised his hat.
"How is Mr. Falconer?" he asked.
He had not seen her since the night of the burglary, the night he had held her in his arms, and the blunt question sounded like a mockery set against the aching longing of his heart.
"He is better," she said.
Her eyes rested on him calmly, and she spoke quite steadily, so that he did not guess that her heart was beating wildly, and that she had to clench the hand beside her in her effort to maintain her composure.
"I am glad," he said simply. "It has been an anxious time—must be so still—for you, I am afraid."
"Yes," she said.
He stood looking at her, and then away from her, and then at her again, as if his eyes must return to her against his will.
"I—I am glad to see you. I wanted to tell you—to thank you for what you did for me the other night. You know that I owe you my life?"
She shook her head and forced a smile.
"Isn't that rather an—exaggeration, Lord Angleford?"
He bit his lip at the "Lord Angleford." And yet how else could she address him?
"No," he said; "it is the simple truth. The man would have shot me."
"Then I am glad," she said quietly, as if there were no more to be said.
He bit his lip again.
"You are looking pale and thin."
"Oh, no," she said. "I am quite well."
Why did he not go? Every moment it became more difficult for her to maintain her forced calm. If he would only go! But he stood, his eyes now downcast, now seeking hers, his brows knit, as if he found it awful to remain, and yet impossible to go.
"Will you tell Mr. Falconer that directly he is able to go out I will send a carriage for him—a pony phaëton, or something of that sort?" he said, at last.
Nell inclined her head.
"We will leave here as soon as he can be moved," she said.
His frown deepened.
"Why?" he asked sharply. "Why should you?"
The blood began to mount to her face, and, gnawing at his mustache, he turned away. But as he did so Dick came down the stairs, two at a time.
"Hi, Drake!" he called out. "Don't go. Falconer would like to see you!"
Drake hesitated just for a second—then——
"I shall be very glad," he said.
Nell moved aside to let him pass, and went into the sitting room, and he followed Dick upstairs. She went to the window, and stood looking out for a moment or two, then she caught up her hat and left the house, for she knew that she could not see him again—ah! not just yet.
Drake went up the stairs slowly, trying to brace himself to go through the ordeal like a man—and a gentleman. He was going to congratulate Mr. Falconer on his good fortune in winning the woman he himself loved. It was a hard, a bitterly hard thing to have to do, but it had to be done.
"Here's Lord Angleford, old man," said Dick, introducing him. "I don't know whether visitors are permitted yet, but you can lay the blame on me; and you needn't palaver long, Drake."
"I will take care not to tire Mr. Falconer," said Drake, as he went to the bedside and held out his hand.
Falconer took it in his thin one, and looked up at the handsome face with an expression which somewhat puzzled Drake.
"I'm glad to hear you're better," he said. "I suppose I ought not to refer to the subject, but I can't help saying, Falconer, how much we—I mean Lady Angleford—and all of us—are indebted to you. But for you the fellow would have got off, and her diamonds would have been lost."
Falconer noticed the friendly "Falconer," and though his heart was aching, he could not help admiring the man who stood beside him with all the grace of health and high birth in his bearing; and he sighed involuntarily as he drew a contrast between himself and "my lord the earl."
"All the same," Drake went on, "the countess would rather have lost her diamonds than you should be hurt."
"Her ladyship is very kind," said Falconer. His eyes, unnaturally bright, were fixed on Drake's face, his voice was low but steady. "I am glad I was of some little use in saving them. The man has been committed for trial, I hear?"
Drake nodded indifferently.
"Yes," he said. "I wish he had dropped the jewel cases and got off. It would have saved a lot of bother. But don't be afraid that you will be wanted as a witness," he added quickly. "I and one or two of the men who were present when he was captured will be sufficient. There will be no need to worry you—or Miss Lorton."
Falconer nodded.
"I hope you will be able to get out soon," said Drake. "I told Miss Lorton that I would send a carriage for you—somethingbulky and comfortable. Perhaps you'll let me drive you?"
Falconer nodded again, and Drake began to feel vaguely uncomfortable under his fixed gaze and taciturnity; and being uncomfortable, he blundered on to the subject that tortured him.
"But Miss Lorton can drive you well enough; she is a perfect whip. And—and now I am mentioning her, I will take the opportunity of congratulating you upon your engagement, Falconer."
Falconer's lips twitched, but his eyes did not leave Drake's face, which had suddenly become stern and grim.
"You knew Miss Lorton before she came here, Lord Angleford?" said Falconer.
Drake colored, and set his lips tightly.
"Yes," he said, trying to speak casually. "We met——"
He stopped, overwhelmed by a thousand memories. His eyes fell, but Falconer's did not waver.
"Then it is as an old friend of hers that you congratulate me, Lord Angleford?" he said.
"Yes, an old friend," said Drake, his throat dry and hot. "I wish you every happiness, my dear fellow; and I think you——"
Falconer raised himself on his elbow.
"You are laboring under a mistake, Lord Angleford," he said, very quietly. "You think that Miss Lorton—is betrothed to me?"
Drake nodded. His face had grown pale; there was an eager light in his eyes. Falconer dropped back with a sigh.
"You are wrong," he said. "Who told you?"
Drake was silent a moment. The blood was rushing through his veins.
"Who told me? I heard—everybody said——"
He dropped into the chair and leaned forward, his face stern and set.
Falconer smiled as grimly as Drake could have done.
"What everybody says is rarely true, my lord. We are not betrothed."
"You don't——" exclaimed Drake.
A worm will turn if trodden on too heavily. Falconer turned. His face grew hot, his dark eyes flashed.
"Yes, my lord, I love her!" he said, and the lowness of his voice only intensified its emphasis. "I love her so well—so madly, if you like—that I choose to set conventionality at defiance, and speak the truth. I love her, but I can never win her, because there is one who comes between her and me. Wait!"—for Drake had risen, and was gazing down at the wan face with flashing eyes. "I do not know who he is.She has never uttered a word to guide me; but I can guess. Wait a moment longer, my lord! Whoever he may be, he is not worthy of her; but she cares for him, and that is enough for me, and should be enough for him. If I were that man——"
He stopped, for his breath had failed him. Drake leaned over him as if he would drag the conclusion of the sentence from him.
"If I were that man, I'd strive to win her as I'd strive for heaven! Ah, it would be heaven!" His lips twitched, and he turned his face away for a moment. "I would count everything else as of no account. I would thrust all obstacles aside, would go through fire and water to reach her——"
Drake caught him by the arm.
"Take care!" he said hoarsely. "You bid me hope! Dare I do so?"
Falconer looked at him fixedly.
"Go to her and see. Wait, my lord. I love her as dearly—more dearly, perhaps, God knows!—than you do. She would be mine at a word."
Drake stood motionless, his face white and set.
"But that word will never be spoken by me. So I prove my love. Prove yours, my lord, and go to her!"
Drake tried to speak, but could not. His hand closed over Falconer's for a moment, then he hurried from the room and went down the stairs.
Dick was lounging in the porch with a cigarette, and he stared at Drake's hurried appearance, at his white, set face.
"Where is Nell? Where is your sister?" Drake demanded.
"Heaven only knows! She went out when you came in. She's in the wood, I should think."
Drake strode down the path and into the wood. His brain was on fire. She was free—they were both free! There was heaven in the thought!
Nell was seated at the foot of one of the big elms, and heard his quick, firm steps. She looked up, and would have risen and flown, but he was upon her before she could move—was upon her, and in some strange, never-to-be-explained way had got her hand in his.
"Nell—Nell!" was all he could say, as he knelt beside her and looked into her eyes.
At the passionate "Nell! Nell!" at the grasp of his hand, the blood rushed to Nell's face, and her breath came painfully. She was startled and not a little alarmed. Why was he kneeling at her feet, why did he call upon her name with the appeal of love, the note of entreaty, in his voice? He was no longer Drake Vernon, but the Earl of Angleford, the promised husband of Lady Lucille.
The color left her face, and she drew her hand from his and shrank away from him, so that she almost leaned against the tree.
He half rose and looked at her penitently, and with something like shame for his vehemence. Indeed, he had rushed from the lodge in search of her, remembering nothing, thinking of nothing, but the fact that they were both free. But now he realized how suddenly he had come upon her, how great a shock his passionate words, his excited manner, must have been to her.
"Forgive me!" he said, still on one knee; "forgive me! I have frightened you. I forgot."
Nell tried to still the throbbing of her heart, to regain composure; but she could not speak. He rose and stood before her, his eyes fixed on her, eloquent with love and admiration. She had never seemed more beautiful to him than at this moment. Her face was thinner and paler than it had been in the happy days at Shorne Mills, but it had grown in beauty, in that spiritual loveliness which replaces in the woman that which the girl loses. The gray eyes were pure violet now, and fuller and deeper, as they mirrored the soul which had expanded in the bracing atmosphere of sorrow and trial.
He had fallen in love with an innocent, unsophisticated girl; he was still more passionately in love with her now that, a girl still in years, she had developed into glorious, divine womanhood. His eyes scanned her face hungrily, yet reverently, as he thought: Was it possible that he had once kissed those beautiful lips, had once heard them murmur "I love you?" And was it possible that he might again hear those magic words? His soul thirsted for them. It seemed to him that if he were to lose her now, if she were to send him away, life would not be worth having, that nothing remained for him in the future but misery and despair. To few men is it given to love as he loved the girl before him, and in that moment he suffered an agony of suspensewhich might well have caused the recording angel to blot out the follies of his past life.
But he must not frighten her, he must not drive her away from him by revealing the intensity of his passion.
So his voice was calm, and so low that it was little more than a whisper, as he said:
"I have come in search of you; I have something to say that I hope, I pray, you will hear. Won't you sit down again?" and he motioned to the place where she had been seated.
But Nell shook her head and remained standing, her hands clasped loosely before her, her eyes downcast.
"What is it, Lord Angleford?" she said, in a voice as low as his. "I—I want to go back to the lodge."
"Wait a few minutes," he said imploringly. "I will not keep you long. I have just left the lodge. He—Mr. Falconer—is all right; he will not mind—will not miss you for a few minutes. And I must speak to you. All my happiness, my future, depends on it—upon you!"
"Ah, let me go!" she said, almost inaudibly; for at every word he spoke her heart went out to him, and she was tempted to forget that he was no longer her lover, but the betrothed of Lady Lucille. Whatever he said, she must not forget that!
"No; it is I who will go, when I have spoken, and if you tell me," he said gravely. "When you sent me away last time I went—I obeyed you. I promise to do so now if you send me away again. Nell—ah! I must call you so. It is the name I think of you by, the name that is engraven on my heart! Nell, I want to ask you if there is no hope of my recovering my lost happiness. Do you remember when I told you that I loved you, there at Shorne Mills? I told you I was not worthy of you. Even then I was deceiving you."
She drew nearer to the tree, and put her hand against it for support.
"I was masquerading as Drake Vernon. I concealed my real name and rank; but I had no base motive in doing so. I was sick of the world, and weary of it and myself, and I longed to escape the maddening notoriety which harassed me. And then, when I thought—ah, no! I won't say thought, for; I know that then, then, Nell, you loved me!"
Her lips quivered, but she kept the tears back bravely.
"Then it seemed so precious a thing to know that you should have loved me for myself alone, that you were not going to marry me for my rank and position, as many another girl would have done, that I was tempted to play the farce to the end. It was folly, but the gods punish folly more surely and quickly than they punish crime. The nightthat you discovered I had deceived you, I had resolved to tell you the truth and beg your forgiveness. But it was too late. Most of our good resolutions come too late, Nell. You had learned that I had deceived you; you had learned that I was not worthy to win and hold the love of a pure and innocent girl, and you sent me away."
She raised her eyes and glanced at him, half bewildered. Was it possible that he thought that was her only reason for breaking the engagement?
"You were right, Nell. I think you would be right if you sent me away now; but I am daring to hope that you won't do so. It is but the shadow—the glimmer of a hope, and yet I cling to it, for it means so much to me—so much!"
There was silence for a moment, then he went on:
"I left Shorne Mills that day, and I sailed in theSeagull, determined that I would accept your sentence, that I would never harass or worry you, that, if it were possible, you should never be troubled by the sight of me. But, Nell, though I left you, I carried your image with me in my heart. I tried to forget you, but I could not. I have never ceased to love you; not for a single day have you been absent from my mind, not for a single day have I ceased to long for you!"
She looked at him again, wonder and indignation dividing her emotion. There was truth in his accents, in his eyes. Had he forgotten Lady Lucille?
"There was no more wretched and unhappy man on God's earth than I was at that time," he went on. "Nell, if you had been called upon to find a punishment heavy enough for the deceit which I practiced, I do not think you could have hit upon a heavier one. For I could not be rid of my love for you. I could not forget your sweet face; your dear voice haunted me wherever I went, and I moved like a man under a curse, the curse of weariness and despair."
His voice almost broke, and he put his hand to his forehead as if he still felt the weight of the weary months.
"Then came the news of my uncle's sudden death; but when I had got over my grief for him—he had been good to me, and I was fond of him!—even then I could find no pleasure in the inheritance which had fallen to me. Of what use was the title and the rest of it, if all my happiness was set upon the girl I had lost forever? I came home to do my duty, in a dull, dogged fashion, came home with the conviction that I should not be able to rest in England, that I should have to take to wandering again. I loved you still, Nell, but I hoped—see, now, I tell you the truth!—that I might at least get some peace, might learn to deaden myheart. And then, as the Fates would have it, I find you here, and——"
He paused for a moment and caught his breath.
"Hear that you were going to marry another man."
Nell started slightly, and the color rose to her face. She had forgotten Falconer!
"That was the last drop in my cup of misery. Somehow, I had always thought of you as the little girl of Shorne Mills, as—as—free. I had not reflected that it was inevitable that some other man should admire and love you. You see, you—you still, in some strange way, seemed to belong to me, though I knew I had lost you!"
No words he could have uttered could have touched her more sharply and deeply than this simple avowal. She turned her head aside so that he might not see the quivering of her lips, the tenderness which sprang into her eyes.
"That was the hardest blow of all that Fate had dealt me, Nell. It almost drove me mad to know that you once loved me, and yet that you were to be the wife of another man! It made me mad and desperate for a time, then I had to face it, as I had faced my loss of you. But, Nell——"
He paused again, and ventured to draw a little nearer to her; but as she still shrank from him, and leaned against the tree, he stopped short and did not venture to take her hand.
"Now I have just left Mr. Falconer, I have heard from his own lips that there is no engagement, that——Oh, Nell! It was the knowledge that you were still free that sent me to you just now, that made me cry out to you as I did! I love you, Nell, more dearly, more truly, if that be possible, than I did! Won't you forgive me the folly which made you send me away from you? Won't you let me try and win back your love?"
There was silence, broken only by the rustle of the leaves in the summer breeze, by the note of a linnet singing in the branches above their heads.
"See, dear, I plead as a man pleads for his life! And on your answer hangs all that makes life worth living. Forgive me, Nell, and give me back your love! I have been punished enough, rest assured of that. Forgive me that past folly and deceit, Nell! I'll teach you to forget in time. Dearest, you loved me, did you not? You loved me until that night of the ball—at the Maltbys'—when you discovered who I was!"
Back it all came to her, and she turned her face to him with grief and reproach in her violet eyes.
"I was on the terrace," she said, almost inaudibly. "It is you who forget. It was not because you kept your rightname and rank from me. I was on the terrace. I saw you and—and Lady Luce!"
He started, and his hand fell to his side. He could not speak for a moment, the shock was so great, and in silence he recalled, saw as in a flash of lightning, all the incidents of that night.
"You—you were there? You saw—heard?" he said, half mechanically.
"Yes," she said.
She was calm, unnaturally calm now, and her voice was grave and sad rather than reproachful.
"I saw and heard everything. I saw her and Lady Chesney before you came out. I heard Lady Luce telling her friend that you and she were engaged, that you had parted, but that she still cared for you, and that you would come back to her; and when you came out of the house on the terrace, I saw her—and you——Oh, why do you make me tell you? It is hateful, shameful!"
She turned her face away, as if she could not bear his gaze fixed on her with amazement, and yet with some other emotion qualifying it.
"You saw Lady Luce come to meet me, heard her speak to me, saw her kiss me?" he said, almost to himself; and even at that moment she was conscious of the fact that there was no shame in his voice, none in his eyes.
She made a motion with her hand as if imploring him to say no more, to leave her; but he caught at her hand and held it, though she strove to release it from his grasp.
"My God! and that was the reason? Why, oh, Nell! Nell! why did you not tell me what you had seen? Why did you say no word of it in your letter? If you had done so—if you had only done so!"
She looked at him sadly.
"Was it not true? Were you not engaged to her?" she asked, almost inaudibly.
"Yes," he replied quickly. "I kept that from you; but it was true. You read of the engagement in that paragraph in the stupid paper, you remember? I ought to have told you, and I thought that it was because I had not, as well as because I had concealed my rank, that you broke with me. But, Nell, my engagement with her was broken off by herself; when there was a chance of my losing the title and the estates, she jilted me. I was free when I asked you to be my wife. You believe that? Great heavens! you do not think me so bad, so base——"
"No," she said, with a sigh. "No; but you went back to her. Oh, I do not blame you! She is very beautiful; she was a fitting wife——"
He uttered an exclamation—it was very like an oath—and caught her hand again.
"No, no," he said, almost fiercely. "You are wrong—wrong!"
She sighed again.
"I saw you—and her," she said, as if that were conclusive.
"I know it," he said. "You saw her come toward me and greet me as if—Heaven! I can scarcely bear to speak of it, to recall it!—as if she were betrothed to me. You saw her kiss me. But, Nell—ah! my dearest, listen to me, believe me!"—for she turned away from him in the bitterness of her agony, the remembrance of the agony she had suffered that night on the terrace. "You must believe me! The kiss was hers, not mine. I would rather have died than my lips should have touched her that night."
Nell's heart began to throb, and something—a vague hope—the touch of a joy too great and deep for words—began to steal over her.
"I am a fool, and weak, but, as Heaven is my witness, I had no thought for her that night. All my heart, my love, were yours! The very sight of her, her presence, was painful to me! Even as she came toward me, I was thinking of you, was in search of you. And her kiss! If the lips had been those of one of the statues on the terrace, it could not have moved me less. Nell, be merciful to me! What could I do? I am a man, she is a woman. Could I thrust her from me? I longed to do so; I would have told her I loved her no longer, that my love was given to another, to you, Nell; but there was no time. She left me before I could scarcely utter a word. And then I went in search of you—and the rest you know. Think, Nell! When you sent me away, did I go to her? No; I left England with my disappointment and my misery. Ah, Nell, if you had only told me that you had beheld the scene on the balcony! Go back to her—and leave you!"
He laughed with mingled bitterness and desperation. The strain was growing too tense for mere words.
At such moments as this, the man, if there is aught of manliness in him, has need of more than words.
"Think, dearest!" he said hoarsely. "Compare yourself with poor Luce! You say she is 'beautiful.' Do you never look in the glass? Dearest, you are, in all men's sight, ten times more lovely! The pure and flawless gem against the falsely glittering paste! Oh, Nell, if my heart was not so heavy, I could laugh, laugh! And you thought I had left you for her, gone back to her! And so you sent me away to exile and misery!"
His voice grew almost stern.
"Nell! It is you who ought to plead for forgiveness! Yes! You have sinned against me!"
She started and looked at him, open-eyed in her amazement.
"Yes, you also have sinned, Nell! You ought to have spoken to me, brought your accusation. I could have explained it all; we should have been married—and happy! And I should have been spared all these months of unhappiness, this awful hell upon earth!"
He had struck the right note at last. Convince a woman that she has been cruel to you, and, if she loves you, the divine attribute of pity will awaken in her, and bring her, who a moment before was as inflexible as adamant, to your feet.
Nell, panting for breath, looked at him; questioningly at first, then, by short degrees, pleadingly, almost penitently.
"Drake!" she breathed piteously.
He sprang forward and caught her in his arms, and pressed a torrent of kisses upon her lips, her hair.
"Nell! My love, my dearest! Oh, have I got you back again? Have I? Tell me you believe me, Nell! Tell me that I may hope; that you will love me again!"
She fought hard to resist him; but when a man holds the woman he loves, and who loves him, in his arms, the woman fights in vain. Every sense in her plays traitor, and fights on the man's side.
Nell put her hands on his broad chest, and tried to hold him off; but he would not be denied.
"Nell, I love you!" he cried hoarsely. "I want you. Let the past go. Don't hold me at arm's length, dearest! I love you! Nell, you will take me back?"
She still struggled and protested against the flood of happiness which overwhelmed her.
"But—but she?" she said, meaning Luce. "Since you have been here——They say——Ah, Drake!"
He laughed as he pressed her to him.
"Let them say!" he retorted. "Nell, I'll tell you the whole truth. If you had been engaged to poor Falconer, I should have married Luce——"
"Ah!" she breathed, with a shudder she could not repress.
"But you are not. And I am still free! And you are free! Nell, lift your head! Give me one kiss—only one—and I will be satisfied."
Her head still drooped for a moment, then she raised it and kissed him on the lips.
The summer breeze made music in the leaves, the linnetsang his heart out above their heads, the soft air breathed an atmosphere of love, and these two mortals were, after months of misery, happy beyond the power of words to express.
And as they sat, hand in hand, talking of the past, and picturing the future, neither of them naturally enough gave a thought to Lady Luce.