Nell of Shorne Mills

What should she do?

No; she would not upbraid him. There should be no "scene." She knew

instinctively how much he would loathe a scene. She would just tell

him--what? That--that--it had all been a mistake; that--she did not love

him, and--and ask him to give her back her freedom.

That was all. Not one word of Lady Luce would she say. He would go--go

without a word; she knew that.

And now she must go back to the ballroom, and try and look and behave as

if nothing had happened.

Was she very white? she wondered dully. She felt as if she had died, and

was buried out of reach of any pain, beyond all possibility of further

joy. Her life was indeed at an end. That kiss of Drake's--to her it had

appeared as if indeed it had been his, and not Luce's only, stolen from

him unawares--that kiss had killed her.

Let Ibsen be a great poet and dramatist, or a literary fraud, there are

one or two things which he says which strike men with the force of a

revelation; and when he speaks of the love-life which is given to every

man and woman, and calls him and her a murderer who kills it, he speaks

truly, and as one inspired.

Nell's love-life lay dead at her feet, and Drake, though all

unconsciously, had slain it.

She wiped her lips, though they were dry and parched, and with trembling

hands smoothed her hair--the lips and the hair Drake had kissed so

often, with such rapture--and slowly, fighting for strength and

self-possession, passed into the ballroom.

The brilliant light, the music, the dancers, acted upon her

overstrained nerves as a dash of cold water upon a swooning man. For the

first time since the blow had fallen pride awoke in her. She had lost

Drake forever; but she would make no moan; other women before her had

lost their lovers and their husbands by death, and they had to bear

their bereavements; she must learn to bear hers.

A young fellow hurried up to her with a mingled expression of relief and

complaint.

"Oh, Miss Lorton; this is ours!" he said. "I have been looking for you

everywhere, everywhere, on my honor, and I was nearly distracted!"

Nell moistened her lips and forced a smile.

"I have been out on the terrace; it--it was hot."

"And--you didn't feel faint? You look rather pale now!" he said

apprehensively. "Would you rather not dance?"

"No, no; I would rather dance!" she replied, with a kind of feverish

impatience. "I--I think I am cold." She shivered a little. "I shall be

all the better for a dance!"