Nell of Shorne Mills

Nell woke with that sickening sense of loss which all of us have

experienced--that is, all of us who have gone to bed with sorrow lying

heavily upon our hearts. The autumnal sun was pouring in through the

windows, the birds were singing; some of them waiting on the tree

outside for the crumbs which Nell had been in the habit, ever since she

was a child, of throwing to them. Even in her misery of last night she

had not forgotten the birds; in the misery of her awakening she

remembered them, and went unsteadily to the lattice window.

The keen air, as it blew upon her face, brought the full consciousness

of the sorrow that had befallen her.

Yesterday morning she was the happiest girl in all the world; this

morning she was the most wretched.

She put her hands to her face, as if some one had struck her, and she

called all her woman's courage to meet and combat her trouble. The

bright world seemed pressing down upon her heavily, the shrill notes of

the birds clamoring their gratitude as they greedily fought for the

crumbs, pierced through her head. She swayed to and fro, as if she were

about to fall; for, in the young, mental anguish produces an absolute

physical pain, and her head as well as her heart was aching.

She would have liked to have thrown herself upon the bed, but Dick would

be clamoring for his breakfast presently, and Mrs. Lorton would want her

chocolate. Life is a big wheel, and one has to push it round, though its

edges are set with spikes of steel, and our hands are torn in the effort

to keep it moving.

As she dressed herself with trembling hands, she kept saying to

herself--her lips quivering with the unspoken words: "I have lost Drake--I have lost Drake; I have got to bear it!"

He would be here presently--or, perhaps, he would not come. Perhaps he

would write to her. And yet, no; that would not be like him; he was no

coward; he would come and tell her the truth, would ask her to forgive

him.

And what should she say? Yes; she would forgive him; she would make no

"scene" with him; she would not utter one word of reproach, but just

tell him that he was free. She would even smile, if she could; would

assure him that she was not going to break her heart because the woman

he had loved before he had met her--Nell--had won him back. After all,

he was not to blame. How could any man resist such a woman as Lady Luce?

She--Nell--was just an interlude in his life's story; he had thought

himself in love with her; and, perhaps, if this beautiful creature,

before whom all hearts seemed to go down, had not desired to lure him

back, he would have remained faithful to the "little girl" whom he had

chanced to meet at that "out-of-the-way place in Devonshire, don't you

know." Nell could almost hear Lady Luce referring to the episode in

these terms, if ever it should come to her ears.