Nell of Shorne Mills

"It is quite a shock!" said Lady Luce. She put her handkerchief to her

lips, her eyes, and then looked up at him with the smile, the confession

of weakness, which is one of woman's most irresistible weapons.

"I--I am staying at the Chesneys'--you know the Chesneys? No? There is a

small party--some of us came over to-night to this dance--they are old

friends of the Maltbys. Drake, I can scarcely believe it is you!"

He stood beside her patiently, and yet impatiently. He was thinking of

Nell even at that moment; wondering where she was, how soon he could get

away from Lady Luce and find Nell.

"You are staying here?" she asked, meaning at the Maltbys'.

He nodded, thinking it well to leave her misconception uncorrected.

"How strange! Drake, it--it is like Fate!" she murmured; and, indeed,

she felt that it was.

"Like Fate?" he asked.

"Yes--that--that we should meet here, in this out-of-the way place, so

soon. Oh, Drake, if you knew how glad I am!"

She put out her hand and touched his arm with the timid touch, the

suggestion of a caress, which women can convey so significantly.

Drake glanced toward the open window apprehensively. Nell--any

one--might come out any moment, and---"Shall we walk to the end of the terrace?" he said. "You will catch

cold----"

As he spoke he looked down at her. There was only a man's inquiry, and

consideration for a woman's bare shoulders, in the look; but to Nell,

whose eyes were fixed upon him with an agonized intentness, it seemed

that the look was eloquent of tenderness and passion.

"Yes, yes," assented Lady Luce quickly. "Some one may come, and--and--we

have so much to say, haven't we, Drake?"

He drew her arm within his mechanically, as he would have drawn it if he

had been leading her to a dance, or in to dinner, and they moved beyond

Nell's hearing.

Drake bit his lip, and glanced sideways toward the house. What could she

have to say to him? and what did this sudden tenderness, this humility,

of hers mean?

Suddenly it occurred to him that she had seen his uncle, and heard of

the old man's offer. Ten thousand a year was not a large income for one

in Lady Lucille Turfleigh's position; but--well, she might have been

tempted by it. His face hardened with an expression of cold cynicism

which Nell had never seen.

"What have we to say, Luce?" he asked. "I thought you and I had

exhausted all topics of absorbing interest when we parted the other

day."