And yet he had asked her to come back to Anglemere; and without doubt she would come.
It was an enchanted world to these two. For some time they sat side by side, or, rather, Drake sat at Nell's feet, her hand sometimes resting, lightly as a dove's wing, with a caress in its touch, upon his head. There were long spells of silence, for such joy as theirs is shy of words; but now and again they talked.
They had so much to tell each other, and each was greedy of even the smallest detail. Drake wanted to hear of all that had happened to her since the terrible parting on the night of the Maltbys' ball—how long ago it seemed to them as they sat there in the sunshine that flickered through the leaves and touched Nell's hair with flashes of light.
And Nell told him everything—everything excepting the episode of Lady Wolfer and Sir Archie—that was not hers to tell, but Lady Wolfer's secret, and Nell meant to carry it to the grave with her; not even to this dearly loved lover of hers could she breathe a word of that crisis in Ada Wolfer's life. And yet, if she had been free to tell him about it then and there, how much better it would have been for them both, how much difference it would have made in their lives!
"And was there no one, no other man whom you saw, who could teach you to forget me, Nell?" he asked, half fearfully.
Nell blushed and shook her head.
"Surely there was some one among all you knew who was not quite blind, who was sensible enough to fall in love with the loveliest and the sweetest girl in all London?"
Nell's blush grew warmer as she remembered some of the men who had paid court to her, who would have been her suitors if she had not kept them at arm's length.
"There was no one," she said simply.
"Falconer?" he said, in a low voice.
The color slowly ebbed from her face, and her eyes grew rather sad as she reflected that her happiness had been purchased at the cost of his pain and self-sacrifice.
"Yes," she said, in a whisper, for she could not hide the truth from him; her heart was bare to his gaze. "If—if you had not come, if he had chosen to accept me, I should have married him. But you came at the very moment, Drake; and at the sound of your voice——He saw my face, and read the truth."
"Poor Falconer," he said, very gravely. "He is a better man than I am, than I shall ever be, even under the influence of your love, and the happiness it will bring me. I owe him a big debt, Nell; and though I can't hope to pay it, I must do what I can to make his life more smooth."
"He is very proud," she said, a little proudly herself.
"I know, I know; but he must let me help him in his career. I can do something in that direction, and I will. But for him! Ah, Nell, I don't like to think of it; I don't like to contemplate what might have happened if I had lost you altogether. Yes; I owe him a debt no man could hope to repay. I wish it had been I who had lived at Beaumont Buildings and played the violin to you, instead of him. All that time I was sailing in theSeagull, or wandering about Asia, wondering whether there was anything on earth, or in the waters under the earth, that could bring me a moment's pleasure, a moment of forgetfulness."
"And—and—you thought of me all that time? There was no one else?"
"There was no one else," he said, as simply as she had answered his question. "Though sometimes——Do you want me to tell you the whole truth, dearest?"
"The whole truth," she responded, looking down at him with trustful eyes, and yet with a little anxious line on her brow. For what woman would not have been apprehensive? She had cast him off, and he had been wandering about the world, free to love again, to choose a wife.
"Well, sometimes I tried to efface your image from my mind, to forget Nell of Shorne Mills, in the surest and quickest way. I went to some dinners and receptions; I joined in a picnic or two, and an occasional riding party. Once I sailed in a man's yacht which had three of the local belles on board, and I tried to fall in love with one of them—any of them—but it was of no use. Now and again I endeavored to persuade myself that I was falling in love. There was one, a girl who was something like you; she had dark hair, and eyes that had a look of yours in them; and when she was silent I used to look at her and try——But when she spoke, her voice was unlike yours, and her very unlikeness recalledyours; and I saw you, even as I looked at her, as you stood on the steps at the quay, or sat in the stern of theAnnie Laurie, and my heart grew sick with longing for you, and I'd get up and leave the girl so suddenly that she used to stare after me with mingled surprise and indignation. What charm do you exert, what black magic, Nell, that a big, strong, hulking fellow like me cannot get free from the spell you throw over him? Tell me, dearest."
Her eyes rested on him lovingly, and there was that in the half-parted lips which compelled him to rise on his elbow and kiss them.
"And yet you could have married Lady Luce," she said, not reproachfully, but very gravely. "Did you not think of her, Drake?"
"No," he replied gravely. "I gave no thought to her until I came home and saw her. And it was not for love of her that I should have married her, Nell, but in sheer desperation. You see, it did not matter to me whom I married if I could not have you."
"And yet—ah, how hard love is!—she cares for you, Drake! I have seen her—I saw her on the terrace, I saw her at the ball here."
He laughed half bitterly.
"My dear Nell, don't let that idea worry you. There is nothing in it; it is quite a mistaken one. Luce is a charming woman, the most finished product of this fin de siècle life——"
"She is very beautiful," Nell said, just even to her rival.
"I'll grant it, though compared to a certain violet-eyed girl I know——"
Nell put her hand over his lips; and he kissed it, and went on gravely.
"No, it is not given to Luce to love any one but herself. She and her kind worship the Golden Image which we set up at every street corner. Rank, wealth, the notoriety that is paragraphed in the society papers, those are what Luce worships, and marries for. By the accident of birth I represent most of these things, and so——"
He shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
"And now chance has helped me again, for her father has inherited the Marquisate of Buckleigh, and he will be rich. It is likely enough that she would have jilted me again."
"But you were not engaged to her?" said Nell, drawing her hand from his head, where it had rested lightly.
"No," he said. "But I should have been, and she knows it. The whole truth, dearest! No, I am free, thank God! Free to win back my old love."
Nell drew a sigh of relief, and her hand stole back to him.
"She will let me go calmly and easily enough. There are at least two marriageable dukes in the market, and Luce——"
"Ah, Drake, I do not like to hear you speak so harshly—even of her."
"Forgive me, Nell. You are right," he said penitently. "But I can't forget that by her play acting on the terrace that night she nearly robbed me of you forever, and caused both of us months of misery. I can't forget that."
"But you must!" said Nell gently. "After all, it may not have been acting."
He laughed again, and drew her down to him.
"Ah, Nell, not even after the experience you had at Wolfe House, do you understand the fashionable woman, the professional beauty. It was all 'theater' on Luce's part, believe me! She would have made a magnificent actress. But do not let us talk about her any more. Tell me again how you used to live in Beaumont Buildings. Nell, we'll go there after we are married—we'll go and see the rooms in which you lived. I want to feel that I know every bit of your life since we parted."
At the "after we are married," spoken with all the confidence of the man, Nell's face grew crimson.
"And now, dearest, you will come up to the Hall?" he said, after a pause, and as if he were stating an indisputable proposition. "By George! how delighted the countess will be to hear of our reconciliation and engagement! She knows nothing of our love and our parting. I told no one; my heart was too sore; but I think I shall tell her now, and she will be simply delighted. You'll like her, Nell; she's such a dear, tender-hearted little woman. I don't wonder at my uncle falling in love with her. Poor old fellow! She has been wonderfully good to me. You'll come up to the Hall, and be treated like a princess."
"No, Drake," she said. "I must not. I must stay with—him; he needs me still."
He was silent a moment, then he kissed her hand assentingly.
"It shall be as you will, my queen!" he said quietly. "Ah, Nell, I shall make a bad husband; for I foresee that I shall spoil you by letting you have your own way too much. I wanted you at the Hall, wanted you near me. But I see—I see you are right, as always. But, Nell, there must be no delay about our marriage. Directly Falconer is well enough to——"
She drew her hand away, but he recovered it and held it against his face.
"There must be no other chance of a slip between the cup and the lip," he said, almost solemnly. "I want you too badly to be able to wait. Besides, do you forget that we have been engaged two years? Two years! A lifetime!"
At this moment a "Coo-ee!" sounded through the wood—an impatient and half indignant "Coo-ee!"
It was Dick, and he approached them, yelling:
"Nell! Nell! Where on earth are you, Nell?"
They had barely time to move before he was upon them.
"I say, Nell, where on earth have you been? I'm starving——Hallo!" he broke off, staring first at Nell's red and downcast face, and then at Drake's smiling and quite obviously joyous one. "What——"
Drake took Nell's hand.
"We quite forgot you, Dick, and everybody and everything else. But you'll forgive us when you hear that Nell and I have—have——"
"Made it up again!" finished Dick, with a grin that ran from ear to ear. "By George, you don't say so! Well, I said it was only a tiff; now, didn't I, Nell? But it was a pretty long one. Eighteen months or thereabouts, isn't it?"
For a moment the two lovers looked sad, then Drake smiled.
"Just eighteen months too long, Dick," he said. "But you might wish us joy."
"I do, I do—or I would, if I wasn't starving!" retorted Dick. "While you have been spooning under the spreading chestnut tree, I've been wrestling with the electric dynamos; and the sight of even bread and cheese would melt me to tears. But I am glad, old man," he said, in a grave tone—"glad for both your sakes; for any one could see with three-quarters of an eye, to be exact, that you were both miserable without each other. Oh, save me from the madness of love!"
"There was a very pretty girl by the name of Angel at the Maltbys' dance," put in Drake musingly; "a very pretty girl, indeed, who sat out most of the dances, if I remember rightly, with a young friend of mine."
Dick's face grew a healthy, brick-dust red, and he glanced shyly from one to the other.
"Well hit, Drake, old man!" he said. "Yes; there was one, and I've seen her in London once or twice——"
"Oh, Dick, and you never told me!" said Nell reproachfully.
"I don't tell you everything, little girl," he remarked severely; "and I won't tell you any more now unless youcome on and give me something to eat. See here, now; I'll walk in front, and promise not to look round——"
Nell, blushing painfully, looked at Drake appealingly, and he seized Dick by the arm and marched him off in the direction of the lodge, Nell following more slowly.
As they entered, the nurse came down from Falconer's room, and Nell inquired after him anxiously.
"He is much better, miss," said the nurse; "and he asked me to say that he should be glad if you and his lordship would go up to him."
Drake nodded, and he followed Nell up the stairs.
Falconer was sitting up, leaning back against a pile of pillows; and he greeted them with a smile—the half-sad, half-patiently cynical smile of the old days in Beaumont Buildings—the smile which served as a mask to hide the tenderness of a noble nature.
Nell came into the room shyly, with the sadness of the self-reproach which was born of the knowledge that her happiness had been gained at the cost of this man who loved her with a love as great as Drake's; but Drake came up to the bed boldly, and held out his hand.
"We have come—to thank you, Falconer," he said, in the tone with which one man acknowledges his debt to another. "No, not to thank you, for that's impossible. Some things are beyond thanks, and this that you have done is one of them. You have brought happiness where there was nothing but misery and despair. Some day I will tell you the story of our separation; but that must wait. Now I can only try and express my gratitude——"
He stammered and broke down; for with Falconer's eloquent eyes upon him, he realized the extent of the man's self-sacrifice, and it seemed to him that any attempt to express his own gratitude was worse than absolute silence. Can you thank a man for the gift of your life?
Falconer looked from one to the other, the half-sad smile lighting up his wan face.
"I know," he said simply. And indeed he knew how he should feel if he were in the place of this lucky man, this favored of the gods. "I know. There is no need to say anything. You are happy?"
His eyes rested on Nell. She slipped to her knees beside the bed and took his hand; but she could not speak; the tears filled her eyes, and she gazed up at him through a mist.
"Ah! what can I say?" she murmured.
He smiled down at her with infinite tenderness.
"You have said enough," he said simply, "and I am answered. Do you think it is nothing to me, your happiness?It is everything—life itself!" His dark eyes glowed. "There is no moment since I knew you that I would not have laid down this wretched life of mine, if by so doing I could have made you happy at a much less cost."
He turned his eyes to Drake with sudden energy.
"Don't pity me, Lord Angleford. There is no need."
Drake took his other hand and pressed it.
"You must get well soon, or her—our—happiness will be marred, Falconer," he said warmly.
Falconer nodded.
"I shall get well," he said. "I am better already. We artists are never beyond consolation. Art is a jealous mistress, and will brook no rival."
"And you worship a mistress who will make you famous," said Drake.
Falconer smiled.
"We are content, though she should deny us so much as that," he said. "Art is its own reward."
Nell rose from her knees and stole from the room. When she had gone, Falconer raised his head and looked long and seriously at Drake.
"Be good to her, my lord," he said, very gravely. "You have won a great prize, a ruby without a blemish; value it, cherish it."
Drake nodded.
"I know," he said simply.
Nell stole into the room again. She was carrying Falconer's violin carefully, tenderly. She put it in his hands, held out eagerly to receive it, and he placed it in position, turned it swiftly, and began to play, his eyes fixed on hers gratefully.
Nell and Drake withdrew to the window, their heads reverently bent.
He played slowly, softly at first, a sad and yet exquisitely sweet melody; then the strain grew louder, though not the less sweet, and the tiny room was throbbing with music which expressed a joy which only music could voice.
Drake's hand stole toward Nell's, and grasped it firmly. Her head drooped and the tears rose to her eyes, and soon began to trickle down her cheeks. The exquisite music seemed to reach her soul and raise it to the seventh heaven, in even which there are tears.
"Drake!" she murmured. "Drake!"
"Nell, my dearest!" he responded, in a whisper.
Then suddenly the music ceased. Falconer slowly dropped the violin on the bed and fell back, his eyes closed, his face as calm as that of a child falling to sleep.
"Go now," whispered Nell; and Drake stole from theroom, leaving Nell kneeling beside the musician, who had apparently fallen asleep.
Drake went down the stairs like a man in a dream, the strange, weird music still ringing in his ears, and walked up to the Hall.
The countess met him as he entered, and he took her hand and led her into the library without a word.
"Oh, what is it, Drake?" she asked anxiously, for she knew that something had happened.
He placed her in one of the big easy-chairs, and stood before her, the light of happiness on his face.
"I've something to tell you, countess," he said. "I am going to be married."
She smiled up at him.
"I am very glad, Drake. I have expected it for some time past. What a pity it is that she should have had to go!"
"She! Who?" he exclaimed.
For the moment he had forgotten Lady Luce.
The countess stared at him.
"Who?" she said, with surprise. "Why, who else should it be but Luce?"
His brows came together, and he made an impatient movement.
"No, no!" he said. "It is Nell—I mean Miss Lorton."
She rose with amazement depicted on her countenance.
"Miss Lorton! At the lodge?"
"Yes," he said impatiently. "We were engaged nearly two years ago. There was a—a—misunderstanding—but it is all cleared up. I want your congratulations, countess."
She was an American, and therefore quick to seize a point.
"And you have them, Drake. That sweet, beautiful girl! I am glad! But—but——"
"What?" he asked impatiently.
"But Luce!" she stammered. "We all thought that——"
"You are wrong," he said, almost hoarsely. "It is Miss Lorton. Go to her at the lodge, and——"
He said no more, but went to the writing table.
Lady Angleford, all in amaze, left the room.
He took up a pen and scribbled over a sheet of note-paper, then tore it up. He filled several other sheets, which he destroyed, but at last he wrote a few words which satisfied him.
Then he remembered that he did not know Luce's address; and, for want of a better, he addressed the letter, announcing his engagement to Miss Lorton, to Lord Turfleigh's club in London; and, like a man, was satisfied.
Was it any wonder that Nell should lie awake that night asking herself if this sudden joy and happiness that had come to her was real—that Drake loved her still—had never ceased to love her—and was hers again?
Perfect happiness in this vale of tears is so rare that we may be pardoned for viewing it with a certain amount of incredulity, and with a doubt of its stability and lasting qualities. But Drake's kisses were still warm on her lips, and his passionate avowal of love still rang in her ears.
And next morning, almost before she had finished breakfast, down came the countess to set the seal, so to speak, upon the marvelous fact that Nell of Shorne Mills was to be the wife of the Earl of Angleford.
Nell, blushing, rose from the table to receive her, and the countess took and held her hand, looking into the downcast face with the tender sympathy of the woman, who knows all that love means, for the girl who has only yet learned the first letters of its marvelous alphabet.
"My dear, you must forgive me for coming so early. Mr. Lorton, if you do not go on with your breakfast, I will run away again. I am so glad to meet you. Now, pray, pray, sit down again."
But Dick, who knew that the countess wished to have Nell alone, declared that he had finished, and took himself off. Then the countess drew Nell to her and kissed her.
"My dear, I am come to try and tell you how glad I am! Last night Drake and I sat up late talking of you. He has told me all your story. It is a romance—a perfect romance! And none the less charming because, unlike most romances in life, it has turned out happily. And we are all so pleased, so delighted—I mean up at the Hall; and I am sure the people on the estate will be as pleased, for I know that you have become a general favorite, even though you have been here so short a time. Lady Wolfer begged me to let her come with me this morning, but I would not yield. I wanted you all to myself. Not that I shall have you for long, I suppose, for Drake will be sure to be here presently."
Nell's blush grew still deeper. She was touched by the great lady's kindness, and the tears were very near her eyes.
"Why are you all so glad?" she faltered, gratefully and wonderingly. "I know that there is a great difference betweenus. I am—well, I am a nobody, and Drake is stooping very low to marry me. You must all feel that."
"My dear," said the countess, with a smile, "no man stoops who marries a good and innocent girl. It's the other way about—at least, that's my feeling; but then I'm an American, you know; and we look at things differently on the other side. But, Nell, we are glad because you have made Drake happy. None of us could fail to see that he has been wretched and miserable, but that now he has completely changed. If you had seen the difference in him last night! But I suppose you did," she put in naïvely. "He seemed to have become years younger; his very voice was changed, and rang with the old ring. And you have worked this miracle! That is why we are all so delighted and grateful to you."
The tears were standing in Nell's eyes, though she laughed softly.
"And yet—and yet he ought to have married some one of his own rank." The color rushed to her face. "I did not know who he was when—when I was first engaged to him at home, at Shorne Mills."
"I know—I know. He has told me the whole story. It was very foolish of him—foolish and romantic. But, dear, don't you see that it proves the reality, the disinterestedness of your love for him? And as for the difference of rank—well, it does not matter in the least. Drake's rank is so high that he may marry whom he pleases; and he is so rich that money does not come into the question."
"It is King Cophetua and the beggar maid," murmured Nell.
"If you like; but there is not much of the beggar maid about you, dear," retorted the countess, holding Nell at arm's length and scanning the refined and lovely face, the slim and graceful form in its plain morning frock. "No, my dear; there is nothing wrong about the affair, excepting the extraordinary misunderstanding which parted you for a time, and brought you so much unhappiness. But all that is past now, and you and he must learn to forget it. And now, my dear, I want you to come up with me to the Hall."
But Nell shook her head.
"I can't do that, countess," she said. "I can't leave Mr. Falconer. He is much better and stronger this morning; the nurse says that he slept all night, for the first time; but he still needs me—and—I owe him so much!" she added in a low voice.
The countess looked at her keenly for a moment; then she nodded.
"I see. Drake told me that I should find you harder tomove than you look. And I am not sure that you are not right," she said. "When you come to stay at the Hall it will be as mistress." Nell's face crimsoned again. "But, my dear girl, we can't pass over the great event as if it were of no consequence. Drake's engagement, under any circumstances, would be of the deepest interest to all of us, to the whole country; but his engagement to you will create a profound sensation, and we must demonstrate our satisfaction in some way. I'm afraid you will have to face a big dinner party."
Nell looked rather frightened.
"Oh!" she breathed. "Is—is it necessary? Can't we just go on as if—as if nothing had happened?"
The countess laughed.
"That's exactly what Drake said when I spoke to him about it last night. It is nice to find you so completely of one mind. But I'm afraid it wouldn't do. You see, my dear, the people will want to see you, to be introduced to you; and if we pursue the usual course there will be much less talk and curiosity than if we let things slide. Yes, you will have to run the gauntlet; but I don't think you need be apprehensive of the result," and she looked at her with affectionate approval.
"Very well," said Nell resignedly. "You know what is best, and I will do anything you and Drake wish."
"What a dutiful child!" exclaimed the countess, banteringly. "And though you won't come and stay at the Hall, you will come up and see us very often, to lunch and tea and——"
"When Mr. Falconer can spare me," said Nell quietly.
"Yes. And about him, dear. We talked of him last night, and his future. That will be Drake's special care. He, too, owes him a big debt, and he feels it. Mr. Falconer is a genius, and the world must be made to know it before very long. And your brother, dear; you will let him come up to the Hall?"
Nell laughed softly.
"You are thinking of everything," she said. "Even of Dick. Oh, yes, he'll come. Dick isn't a bit shy; but he thinks more of his electric machines than anything else on earth just at present."
"I know," said the countess, laughing. "But we must try and lure him from them now and again. I am sure we shall all like him, for he is wonderfully like you. Now, about the dinner, dear. Shall we say this day week?"
"So soon!" said Nell.
"Yes; it mustn't be later, for this wretched trial is coming on; the assizes are quite close, you know; and Drake willhave to be there as witness. My dear, I'm glad they did not get off with the diamonds! You little thought that night, when you saved Drake's life, and prevented the man getting away, that you were fighting for your own jewels."
"Mine!" said Nell.
The countess laughed.
"Why, yes, you dear goose! Are they not the Angleford diamonds, and will they not soon be yours?"
Nell blushed and looked a little aghast.
"I—I haven't realized it all yet," she said. "Ah! I wish Drake were—just Drake Vernon! I am afraid when I think——"
The countess smiled and shook her head.
"There is no need to be afraid, my dear," she said shrewdly. "You will wear the Angleford coronet very well and very gracefully, if I am not mistaken, because you set so little store by it. And now here comes Drake! It is good of him to give me so long with you. Give me a kiss before he comes—he won't begrudge me that surely! Ah, you happy girl!"
Drake drove up in a dogcart.
"I can't get down; the mare won't stand"—he hadn't brought a groom, for excellent reasons. "Please tell Nell to get her things on as quickly as she can!" he said to the countess as she came out.
Nell looked doubtful.
"I will go upstairs first," she said. But Falconer was asleep, and when she came down she had her outdoor things on.
Drake bent down and held out his hand to help her up.
"You won't be long?" she asked, and she looked up at him shyly, for, after their long separation, he seemed almost strange to her.
"Just as long as you like," he said, understanding the reason for her question, and glancing at the window of Falconer's room. "Dick tells me that he is better this morning. I couldn't say how glad I am, dearest Nell," he whispered, as the mare sprang at the collar and they whirled through the gates and down the road. "Is it you really who are sitting beside me, or am I dreaming?"
Nell's hand stole nearer to his arm until it touched it softly.
"I have asked myself that all night, Drake," she said, almost inaudibly. "It is so much more like a dream than a reality. Are we going through the village?" she asked, suddenly and shyly.
"Yes," he said. "We are. Nell, I want to show my treasure to the good folk who have known me since I was aboy. Perhaps the news has reached the village by this time—for the servants at the Hall know it, and I want them to see how happy you have made me!"
There could be no doubt of the news having got to the village, for as the dogcart sped through it the people came to the doors of the shops and cottages, all alive with curiosity and excitement.
Drake nodded to the curtseys and greetings, and looked so radiantly happy that one woman, feeling that touch of nature which makes all men kin, called out to them:
"God bless you, my lord, and send you both happiness!"
"That's worth having, Nell," he said, very quietly; but Nell didn't speak, and the tears were in her eyes. "A few days ago I should have laughed or sneered at that benediction," he said gravely. "What a change has come over my life in a few short hours! There is no magic like that of love, Nell."
They were silent for some time after they had left the village behind them, but presently Drake began to call her attention to the various points of interest in the view; the prosperous farms, and thickly wooded preserves; and Nell began, half unconsciously, to realize the extent of the vast estate—the one of many—of which the man she was going to marry was lord and master.
"I'm going to take you to a farm which has been held by the same family for several generations," he said. "I think you will like Styles and his wife; and you won't mind if they are outspoken, dearest? I was here to lunch only the other day, and Styles read me a lecture on my duties as lord of Angleford. One of the heads was that I ought to choose a wife without loss of time. I want to show him that I have taken his sermon to heart."
"Perhaps he may not approve of your choice," said Nell.
Drake laughed.
"Well, if he doesn't, he won't hesitate to say so," he said.
They pulled up at the farm, and Styles came down to the gate to welcome them, calling to a lad to hold the mare.
"Yes, we will come in for a minute or two, Styles, if Mrs. Styles will have us," said Drake.
Mrs. Styles, in the doorway, wiping her hands freshly washed from the flour of a pudding, smiled a welcome.
"Come right in, my lord," she said. "You know you be welcome well enough." She looked at Nell, who was blushing a little. "And all the more welcome for the company you bring."
"Sit down, my lord; sit ye down, miss—or is it 'my lady'?" said Styles, perfectly at ease in his unaffected pleasure at seeing them.
"This is Miss Lorton, the young lady who is rash enough to promise to be my wife, Mrs. Styles," said Drake. "I drove over to introduce her to you, and to show that I took your good advice to heart."
The farmer and his wife surveyed Nell for a moment, then slowly averted their eyes out of regard for her blushes.
"I make so bold to tell your lordship that you never did a wiser thing in your life," said Styles quietly, and with a certain dignity; "and if the young lady be as good as she is pretty—and if I'm anything of a judge, I bet she be!—there's some sense in wishing your lordship and her a long life and every happiness."
Drake held out his hand, and laughed like a boy.
"Thanks, Styles," he said. "It was worth driving out for. And I'm happy enough, in all conscience, for the present."
"I've heard of Miss Lorton, and I've heard naught but good of her," said Mrs. Styles, eying Nell, who had got one of the children on her knee; "and to us as lives on the estate, miss, it's a matter of importance who his lordship marries. It may just mean the difference between good times or bad. Us don't want his lordship to marry a fine London lady as 'u'd never be contented to live among us. And there be many such."
Nell fought against her shyness; indeed, she remembered the simple folk of Shorne Mills, who talked as freely and frankly as this honest couple, and plucked up courage.
"I'm not a fine London lady, at any rate, Mrs. Styles," she said, with a smile. "I have lived for nearly all my life in a country village, much farther away from London than you are; and I know very little of London life."
"You don't say, miss!" exclaimed Mrs. Styles, much gratified.
"Oh, yes," said Nell, laughing softly. "And I could finish making this apple pudding, if you'd let me, and boil it after I'd make it."
Mrs. Styles gazed at her in speechless admiration, and Drake laughed with keen enjoyment of her surprise.
"Oh, yes; Miss Lorton is an excellent cook and housekeeper, Mrs. Styles; so I hope you are satisfied?"
"That I be, and more, my lord," responded Mrs. Styles. "But, Lor'! your lordship do surprise me, for she looks no more than a schoolgirl—begging her pardon."
"Oh, she's wise for her years!" said Drake. "Yes, I'll have a glass of your home-brewed, Styles."
Mrs. Styles brought some milk and scones for Nell, and the two women withdrew to the settle and talked like old friends, while Drake, his eyes and attention straying to his beloved, discussed the burglary at the Hall with Styles.As Mrs. Styles' topic of conversation was Drake—Drake as a lad and a young man—Nell was in no hurry to go; but suddenly she remembered Falconer—he might be wanting her—and she got up and went to Drake, who, his beloved brier in his mouth, leaned back in an easy-chair and talked to the farmer as if time were of no consequence. He sprang up as she approached him.
"Well, good-by, Styles. I said you should dance at my wedding, and so you shall," he said.
"Thank you, my lord," he responded. "I'll do my best, but I thought your lordship was only joking. Here's a very good health to you, my lord, and your future lady."
"And God bless ye both," said Mrs. Styles, in the background.
They drove away in grand style, the mare insisting on putting on frills and standing on her hind legs; and Drake, when the mare had settled down to her swinging trot, stole his hand round Nell's waist, and pressed her to him.
"Do you know why I took you there this morning, Nell?" he said, in a low voice.
Nell shook her head shyly.
"I'll tell you. The sudden good fortune has seemed so unreal to me that I haven't been able to realize it, to grasp it. It wasn't enough for the countess to know and congratulate us—it wasn't enough, somehow. I wanted some of the people on the estate to see you, and, so to speak, set their seal on our engagement and approaching marriage. Do you understand, dearest? I'm not making it very plain, I'm afraid."
But Nell understood, and her heart was brimming over with love for him.
"You have been accepted this morning into the—family, as it were," he said. "And now I feel as if it were impossible that I should lose you again. Styles will go down to the inn to-night and talk about our visit, and give a detailed account of the 'new ladyship,' and everybody on the estate will know of my good fortune. It is almost as if"—he paused, and the color rose to his face—"as if we were married, Nell. I feel that nothing can separate us now."
She said not a word, but she pressed a little closer to him, and he bent and kissed her.
"You don't mind my taking you to the Styles', dearest?" he asked.
"No, oh, no!" she replied. "I would rather have gone there than to any of the big houses—I mean the county people, Drake. I like to think I am not the sort of person they dreaded. What was it? 'A fine London lady.' Perhapsit would be better for you if I were; but for them—well, perhaps for them it will be better that I am only one of themselves, able to understand and sympathize with them. Drake, you will not forget that I am only a nobody, that I am only Nell of Shorne Mills."
He smiled to himself, for he knew that this girl whom he had won was, by virtue of her beauty and refinement, qualified to fill the highest place in that vague sphere which went by the name of "society."
"Don't you worry, dearest," he said. "You have won the heart of the Styles family; and that is no mean conquest. That farm on the right is the Woodlands, and that just in front is the Broadlands. You will learn all the names in time, and I want you to know them; I want you to feel that you have a part and lot in them. Nell, do you think you will ever be as fond of this place as you are of Shorne Mills?"
"Yes," she said; "because—it is yours, Drake."
He looked down at her gratefully.
"But you shan't lose Shorne Mills," he said resolutely. "I mean to buy some land there, and build a house, just on the brow of the hill—you know, Nell; that meadow above The Cottage?—and we'll go there every summer, and we'll sail theAnnie Laurie."
So they talked, with intervals of silence filled with his caresses, until they reached the lodge. And as they came up to it, they heard the strains of a violin.
Nell awoke with a start.
"Oh, I had almost forgotten!" she said remorsefully.
"Listen!" Drake whispered.
Nell, in the act of pushing the dust cloak from her, listened.
Falconer was playing the "Gloria in Excelsis."
"Oh, how happy I have been!" she murmured, half guiltily.
"And how happy you will be, Heaven grant it, dearest!" Drake murmured, as he released her hand and she got down.
"Nell, I believe you are nervous! You're not? Very well; then stand up and look me in the face, and say 'Mesopotamia' seven times!"
It was the night of the dinner party at the Hall, at which, as Dick put it, she was to be "on view" as the fiancée ofmy lord of Angleford, and Nell had come down to the little sitting room dressed and ready to start.
Dick and Falconer were also ready, for Falconer had recovered sufficiently to be present, and had voluntarily offered to take his violin with him.
"Don't tease her, Dick," said Falconer, with the gentle, protective air of an elder brother. "She does not look a bit nervous."
"But I am!" said Nell, laughing a little tremulously; "I am—just a little bit!"
"And no wonder!" said Falconer promptly. "It is rather an ordeal she has to go through; to know that everybody is regarding you critically. But she has nothing to be afraid of."
"Now, there I differ with you," said Dick argumentatively. "If I were in Nell's place I should feel that everybody was thinking: 'What on earth did Lord Angleford see in that slip of a girl to fall in love with?' Ah, would you?" as Nell, laughing and blushing, caught up the sofa cushion. "You throw it and rumple my best hair, if you dare."
Nell put the cushion down reluctantly.
"It's a mean shame; you know I can't fight now."
"Though you have your war paint on," said Falconer, looking at her with a half-sad, half-proud admiration and affection.
"It's not much of a war paint," said Nell, but contentedly enough. "It's the dress I made for a party at Wolfer House—Dick, you know that the Wolfers have had to go? Lord Wolfer's brother was ill. I am so sorry! She would have made me feel less nervous, and rather braver. Yes, I'm sorry! It's an old dress, and I'm afraid Drake's jewels must feel quite ashamed of it," and she glanced at the pearls which he had given her a day or two ago, and which gleamed softly on her white, girlish neck and arms.
"You hear her complaining, Falconer!" said Dick, with mock sternness and reproval. "You'd find it hard to believe that I offered to remain at home and pop my dress suit, that she might buy herself fitting raiment for this show. Oh, worse than a serpent's tooth, it is to have an ungrateful sister!"
"I thought it was a new dress," remarked Falconer, still eying it and the wearer intently.
Nell shook her head, coloring a little, as she said:
"No; I wanted to wear this one. I didn't want to appear in a grand frock as if I were a fashionable lady."
"Fine feathers do not always make a fine lady," observed Dick, addressing the ceiling. "No one would mistake youfor anything but—what you are, a simple ch-e-ild of Nachure."
"Don't tease her, Dick," remonstrated Falconer; but Nell laughed with enjoyment.
"I don't mind in the least, Mr. Falconer. It's quite true, too; my plain frock is more suitable than anything Worth could turn out."
"My dear Falconer, I'm sorry to see you so easily imposed on. Don't you see that she's as vain as a peacock, and that she's only playing at the humble and meek? Besides, I expect that idiot Drake—who slipped out just as we came down—he'll be late for dinner if he doesn't mind!—has been telling her that she looks rather pretty——"
Nell blushed, for Drake had indeed told her that she looked more than pretty.
"And, of course, she believes him. She'd believe him if he told her that the moon was made of green cheese. Put that cushion down, my child, or it will be worse for you. And I hope you will behave yourself properly to-night. Remember that the brother who has brought you up with such anxious care will be present, to say nothing of the friend to whose culture and refined example you owe so much. Don't forget that it is bad manners to put your knife in your mouth, or to laugh too loudly. Remember we shall be watching you closely and anxiously."
"It is time we started," said Falconer. "Let me put that shawl more closely round you, Miss Lorton. It's a fine night, but one cannot be too careful."
It was so fine that they had decided to walk the short distance to the Hall; and they set out, Falconer with his precious violin in its case under his arm, and Dick smoking a cigarette. They were all rather silent as they approached the great house, and Dick, looking up at it, said with a gravity unusual with him:
"It's hard to realize that you are going to be the mistress of this huge place, Nell."
Nell made no response; but she, too, looked up at the house with the same thought.
Indeed, it was hard to realize. But the next moment Drake came out to meet them, and took her upon his arm, with a whispered word of loving greeting for her, and a warm welcome to the two men.
"I needn't say how glad I am to see you, Falconer," he said, "or how delighted the countess and the rest of them will be. You must be prepared for a little hero worship, I'm afraid, for the countess has been diligent in spreading the story of your pluck."
As he lovingly took off Nell's shawl, he whispered:
"Dearest, how sweet and beautiful you look! If you knew how proud I am—how proud and happy!"
Then he led them into the drawing-room. A number of guests had already arrived, and as the countess came forward and kissed Nell, they looked at her with a keen curiosity, though it was politely veiled.
Nell was a little pale as the countess introduced her to one after another of the county people; but Drake stood near her; and everybody, prepossessed by her youth, and the girlish dignity and modesty which characterized her, was very kind and pleasant; and soon the threatened fit of shyness passed off, and she felt at her ease.
The room, large as it was, got rather crowded. Guests were still arriving. Some of the women were magnificently dressed in honor of the occasion, but Nell's simple frock distinguished her, as the plain evening dress of the American ambassador is said to distinguish him among the rich uniforms and glittering orders of the queen's levee; and the women recognized and approved her good taste in appearing so simply dressed.
"She is sweetly pretty," murmured the local duchess to Lady Northgate. "I don't wonder at Lord Angleford's losing his heart. Half the men in the room would fall in love with her if she were free. And I like that quiet, reticent manner of hers; not a bit shy, but dignified and yet girlish. Yes, Lord Angleford is to be congratulated."
"So he would be if she were not half so pretty," said Lady Northgate; "for he is evidently too happy for words. See how he looks at her!"
"Who is that bright-looking young fellow?" asked the duchess, putting up her pince-nez at Dick.
"That is her brother. Isn't he like her? They are devoted to each other; and that is Mr. Falconer, the great violinist. Of course, you've heard the story——"
"Oh, dear, yes," said the duchess. "And I want to congratulate him. I wish you'd bring the boy to me, dear."
Lady Northgate went after him, but at that moment a young lady with laughing eyes came into the room, and Dick started and actually blushed.
Drake, who was standing near him, laughed at his confusion.
"An old friend of yours, I think, Dick, eh? Miss Angel. She's stopping in the house; came to-day. If you're good, you shall take her in to dinner."
"I'll be what she is by name, if I may!" said Dick, eagerly. "I'll go and tell her so," and he made his way through the crowd to her.
"Afraid you've forgotten me, Miss Angel," he said. "Hop at the Maltbys', you know!"
Her eyes danced more merrily, but she surveyed him demurely for a moment, as if trying to recall him, then she said:
"Oh, yes; the gentleman who was so very—very cool; I was going to say impudent; pretty Miss Lorton's brother."
"You might have said Miss Lorton's pretty brother!" retorted Dick reproachfully. "But you'll have time to say it later on, for I'm going to take you in to dinner."
"'Going to have the honor' of taking me in to dinner, you mean!" she said, with mock hauteur.
"No; 'pleasure' is the word," said the unabashed Dick. "I say, how delighted I am to see you here——"
"Thank you."
"Because I know so very few of this mob."
"Oh, I see. I'll recall my thanks, please."
Dick grinned.
"I thought you were rather too previous with your gratitude. But isn't it jolly being here together!"
"Is that a question or an assertion? Because, if it's the former, I beg leave to announce that I see no reason for any great delight on my part."
"Oh, come now! You think! You can resume the lesson on manners you commenced at the Maltbys'. I want it badly; for I have been among a rough set lately. I'm a British workingman, you know—engineer. Come into this corner, and I'll tell you all about it."
"I don't know that I want to hear," she retorted. "But, oh, well, I'll come after I've spoken to your sister. How lovely she looks to-night! If I were a man, I should envy Lord Angleford."
"Would you? So should I if he were going to marry another young lady I know."
"Oh, who is that?" she asked, with admirably feigned innocence and interest.
"Oh, you can't see her just now. No looking-glass near," he had the audacity to add, but under his breath.
The dinner hour struck, the carriages were setting down the last arrivals, and Lady Angleford was looking round and smilingly awaiting the butler's "Dinner is served, my lady!" when a footman came up to her and said something in a low voice.
The countess went out of the room, and found her maid in the hall.
The woman whispered a few words that caused Lady Angleford to turn pale and stand gazing before her as if she had suddenly seen a ghost.
"Very well," she said.
The maid hurried upstairs, but the countess stood for quite half a minute, still pale, and gazing into vacancy.
Then she went back to the drawing-room, and, with a mechanical smile, passed among the guests until she reached Drake, who was talking to the duke and Lord Northgate.
"You want me, countess?" he said, feeling her eyes fixed on him, and he followed her to a clear space.
"Drake," she said, lifting her eyes to his face pitifully, "Drake, something dreadful has happened—something dreadful. I don't like to tell you, but I must. She is here!"
She whispered the announcement as if it were indeed something dreadful.
Drake looked at her in a mystified fashion.
"She! Who?" he asked.
"Luce!"
He did not start, but his brows came together, and his face grew stern, for the first time since his reconciliation to Nell.
"Luce!" he echoed. "Impossible!"
"Oh, but she is!" she murmured, in despair. "She arrived a quarter of an hour ago."
"But I wrote, telling her," he muttered helplessly.
The countess made a despairing gesture.
"Then she did not get your letter. She sent a telegram this morning, saying that she was able, unexpectedly, to come, but I have not had it. And if I had received it, there would not have been time to prevent her coming." She glanced at the slim, girlish figure of Nell, where it stood, the center of a group, and almost groaned. "What shall we do?"
At such times a man is indeed helpless, and Drake stood overwhelmed and idealess.
"She says that we are not to wait—that she will come down when she is dressed. She—she——Oh, Drake! she does not know, and she will think that—that you still—that she——"
He nodded.
"I know. But I am thinking of Nell," he said grimly. "Luce must be told. She—yes, she must go away again. She will, when she knows the truth."
"But—but who is to tell her?" said the poor countess, aghast at the prospect before her.
Drake shook his head.
"Not you, countess. I will tell her."
"You, Drake!"
"Yes—I," he said, biting his lips. "She found little difficulty in telling me, there at Shorne Mills——No, no; Iought not to have said that. But I am anxious to spare Nell, and my anxiety makes me hard. Wait a moment."
He went to the window, and, putting aside the curtains, looked out at the night, seeing nothing; then he came back.
"Put the dinner back for a quarter of an hour, and send word to her and ask her to go into your boudoir. I will wait her there."
"Is there no other way, Drake?" she asked, pitying him from the bottom of her heart.
"There is none," he said frankly. "It is my fault. I ought to have found out her address; but it is no use reproaching oneself. Send to her, countess!"
She left the room, and Drake went back to the duke, talked for a moment or two, then went up to the countess' room and waited. He had to face an ordeal more severe than any other that had hitherto fallen to his not uneventful life; but faced it had to be; and he would have gone through fire and water to save Nell a moment's pain. Besides, Luce was to be considered, though, it must be confessed, he felt little pity for her.
Presently the door opened; but it was Burden who entered. She was looking pale and emaciated, as if she were either very ill, or recovering from illness, and Drake, even at that moment of strain and stress, noticed her pitiable appearance.
"How do you do, Burden?" he said. "I am afraid you have not been well."
Burden curtsied, and looked up at him with hollow eyes.
"Thank you, my lord," she faltered. "My lady sent me to tell your lordship that she will be here in a minute or two."
She left the room, and Drake leaned against the mantelshelf with his hands in his pockets, his head sunk on his breast; and in a minute or two the door opened again, and Luce glided toward him with outstretched hands.
"Drake! How sweet of you to send for me—to wait!" she murmured.
He took one of her hands and held it, and the coldness of his touch, the expression of his face, startled her.
"Drake! What is the matter?" she asked. "Are—are you not glad to see me? Why do you look at me so strangely? I came the moment I could get away. There has been so much to do; and father"—she paused a moment and shrugged her shoulders—"has been very bad. The excitement and fuss——You know the condition he would be in, under the circumstances. I told Burden to wire this morning to say I was coming, but she forgot to do so. She seems half demented,and I am going to get rid of her. What is the matter, Drake?"
She had moved nearer to him, expecting him to take her in his arms and kiss her; but his coldness, his silence, was telling upon her, and the question broke from her impatiently.
"Haven't you had my letter?" he asked.
"Your letter? No. Did you write? I am sorry! What did you write?"
"I wrote"—he hesitated a moment, but what was the good of trying to "break" the news? "I wrote to tell you of my engagement——"
She started and stared at him.
"Your engagement! Your——Drake! What do you mean? Your engagement! To—to whom?"
"Sit down, Luce," he said gravely, tenderly, and he went to lead her to a chair; but she shook her hand free and stood, still staring at him blankly, her face growing paler.
"I wrote and told you all about it. I am engaged to Miss Lorton. You do not know her; but she is the young lady I met at Shorne Mills, the place in Devonshire——I was engaged to her then, but it was broken off, and we were separated for a time; but we met again——I am sorry, very sorry, that you did not get my letter."
Her face was perfectly white by this time, her lips set tightly. He feared she was going to faint; but, with a great effort she fought against the deadly weakness which assailed her.
"So that was what you wrote!" she breathed, every word leaving her lips as if it caused her pain to utter. "You—you—have deceived me."
"No, Luce," he said quickly.
"Yes, yes! When I left here you——Is it not true that you intended asking me to be your wife, to renew our engagement? Answer!"
She glanced up at him, her teeth showing between her parted lips.
He inclined his head.
"Yes, it is true; but I had not met—I had not heard——Oh, what is the use of all this recrimination, Luce? I am engaged to the girl I love."
She raised her hand as if to strike him. He caught it gently, and as gently released it.
"I will go," she panted. "I will go at once. Be good enough to order my carriage——"
She put her hand to her head as if she did not know what she was saying; and Drake's heart ached with pity for her—at that moment, at any rate.
"Don't think too hardly of me, Luce," he said, in a low voice. "And you have not lost much, remember."
She clasped her hands and swayed to and fro for a moment.
"I see! It is your revenge. I once jilted you, and now——"
"For God's sake, don't say—don't think——No man could be so base, so vile!" he said sternly.
She laughed.
"It is your revenge; I see it. Yes, you have scored. I will go—at once. Open the door, please!"
There was nothing else to be done. He opened the door for her, and she swept past him. Outside, she paused for a moment, as if she did not know where she was, or in which direction her room lay; then she went slowly—almost staggered—down the corridor, and, bursting into her room, fell into a chair.
So sudden was her entrance, so tragic her collapse, that the nervous Burden uttered a faint shriek.
"Oh, my lady! what is the matter?" she cried, her hand against her heart.
Lady Luce sat with her chin in her hands, her eyes gleaming from her white face, in silence for a moment; then she laughed, the laugh which borders on hysteria.
"Congratulate me, Burden!" she said bitterly; "congratulate me! Lord Angleford is engaged!"
Burden stared at her.
"To—to your ladyship?" she said, but doubtfully. "I do congratulate you."
"You fool!" cried Luce savagely. "He is engaged to another woman. He has jilted me! Oh, I think I shall go mad! Jilted me! Yes, it is that, and no less. Oh, my head! my head!"
Burden hurried to her with the eau de Cologne, but Lady Luce pushed it away.
"Keep out of my sight! I can't bear the sight of any human being! Engaged! 'I am engaged to Miss Lorton!'"—she mimicked Drake's voice in bitter mockery.
Burden started, and let the eau de Cologne bottle fall with a soft thud to the floor.
"What—what name did your ladyship say?" she gasped, her face as white as her mistress's, her eyes starting.
Lady Luce glared at her.
"You fool! Are you deaf? Lorton! Lorton!" she almost snarled at the woman.
Burden stooped to pick up the bottle, but staggered and clutched a chair, and Lady Luce watched her with half-distraught gaze.
"What is the matter with you? Why do you behave like a lunatic?" she demanded. "Do you know this girl? Answer!"
Burden moistened her lips.
"Is it the young lady—who helped catch Ted—I mean the burglar, my lady?" she asked hoarsely.
"I suppose so. Yes. Well? Speak out—don't keep me waiting. I'm in no humor to be trifled with. You know her—something about her?"
Burden tried to control her shaking voice.
"If—if it is the same young lady who was at Lady Wolfer's——I was her maid, you remember——"
"I remember, you fool! Quick!"
"Then—then I know something. She's very pretty—and young, with dark hair——"
Lady Luce sprang to her feet.
"You idiot! You drive me mad. I've not seen her. But if it be the same——Well—well?"
"Then—then Lord Angleford is to be pitied. He has been deceived—deceived cruelly," said Burden, in gasps.
Lady Luce caught her by the shoulders and glared into her quailing eyes.
"Listen to me, Burden: pull yourself together. Tell me what you know—tell me this instant! Well? Sit there in that chair. Now!" She pressed the shoulders she still held with the gesture of an Arab slave driver. "Now, quick! Who is she? What do you know against her?"
In faltering accents, and yet with a kind of savage pleasure, Burden spoke for some minutes; and as Lady Luce listened, the pallor of her face gave place to a flush of fierce, malicious joy.
"Are you sure? You say you saw, you listened? Are you sure?" she said—hissed, rather—at the end of Burden's story.
"I—I am quite sure," she responded. "I—I could swear to it. I was just outside the library."
Lady Luce paced up and down with the gait of a tigress.
"If I could only be sure," she panted; "if I could only be sure! But you may be mistaken. Wait!" Her hand fell upon Burden's shoulder again. "Go downstairs, look at the people, and tell me if you see her there. Quick!"
Burden, wincing under the savage pressure of her hand, rose, and stole from the room.
In less than five minutes she was back.
"Well?" demanded Lady Luce, as Burden closed the door and leaned against it.
"It—it is the same. I saw her," she said suddenly.
Lady Luce sank into a chair, and was silent and motionlessfor a moment; then she sprang up and laughed—a hideous laugh for such perfect lips.
"Get out my pale mauve silk. Dress me, quick! I am not going to leave the house. I am going downstairs to make Miss Lorton's acquaintance! Quick!"
Burden got out the exquisite dress. The flush which had risen to her mistress' face was reflected in her own. This Miss Lorton had helped to capture her beloved, her "martyred" Ted, and he was going to be avenged!