Nell of Shorne Mills

On the night of the fifth Nell sang softly to herself as she stood

before the glass putting the last touches to her, toilet. She was

brimming over with happiness, and as she looked at the radiant

reflection she wondered whether her lover would be satisfied. It is the

question which every woman who loves asks herself. It is for the man of

her heart that she lives and has her being; it is that she may find

favor in his sight that she brushes the hair he has kissed; it is with

the hope that his eye may be caught, his fancy pleased, that she puts

the flower at her bosom or winds the filmy lace around her neck. And it

was of Drake--Drake--Drake--she thought and dreamed as she turned from

the glass and went down the stairs.

She had heard the wheels of the fly he had procured from Shallop, and

she found him in the little hall waiting for her.

He looked up at the lovely vision with startled admiration, for hitherto

he had only seen her in week-a-day attire; and this slight, graceful

form, clad in soft white, seemed so pure, so virginal and ethereal,

that, not for the first time, his joy in her loveliness was tempered

with awe.

"Nell!" was all he could say, and he stretched out his arms, then let

them fall. "I should crush you or break you," he said, half seriously.

"Is that the dress I saw you making up--that! It looked like----"

"A rag," she finished for him, her eyes shining down upon him with a

woman's gratitude for his admiration. "Will it do? Do I look--passable?"

"No," he said; "no one could pass you! Nell, my angel--yes, you are like

an angel to-night!" he broke off, in lower tones. "You--you frighten me,

dearest. I dread to see you spread your wings and fly away from me."

She laughed shyly and shook her head.

"And--and--how different you look!" she said; for it was the first time

she had seen Drake in the costume which we share with the waiter; and

her pride in him--in his tall figure and square shoulders--glowed in her

eyes. If he had been lame and halt she would have still loved him;

but--well, there is no woman who is not proud of her sweetheart's good

looks. Sometimes she is prouder of them than of her own.

"Let me put this wrap around you," he said; and as he did so she raised

her head with a blush and an invitation in her eyes, and he kissed her

on the lips. "See here, dearest," he said, "your first dance! And as

many as you will give me afterward. Did I ever mention that I was

jealous? Nell, I inform you of the gruesome fact now; and that I shall

endure agonies every time I see you dancing with another man."