Nell of Shorne Mills

The harassed man turned away with a weary sigh, wandered purposelessly

into the anteroom, and, in a mechanical fashion, fingered the various

articles on the writing table. His eye fell on the book on the pedestal,

and he took up the volume absently, intending to restore it to its place

in the bookcase. On his way he opened the book, and a half sheet of note

paper fell from it and fluttered to his feet. He picked it up, read what

was written on it, and stood for a moment motionless, his eyes fixed on

the carpet, his lips writhing.

How long he stood there he did not know, but presently he was aroused by

the sound of footsteps. He listened. Some one--the rustling of a

dress--was approaching the room. He slipped the note into the book and

replaced the volume on the pedestal, and quickly stepped behind the

portière curtains.

He expected his wife. Should he come forward and confront her? His stern

face grew red with shame--for her, for himself. Then, with a sudden leap

of the heart, with a sensation of relief which was absolutely painful in

its intensity, he saw Nell enter the room and go straight to the

pedestal. Her face was pale and troubled, and she looked round with what

seemed to him a guilty expression in the gray eyes. Then she opened the

book as he had done, but, as if she expected to find something, took out

the note, and after a moment of hesitation read it. He saw her face

flush hotly, then grow white, and her hand go out to the pedestal as if

for support. For a moment she stood as motionless as he had done, then

she thrust the note into her pocket, dropped the book from her hand--it

fell on the floor unregarded by her--and slowly left the room.

Wolfer passed his hand over his brow with a bewildered air, then, as if

obeying an irresistible impulse, he followed her up the stairs.

Quietly but slowly. He knew that she had not seen him, did not know that

he was following her, and he waited at the end of the corridor,

watching her with a heart throbbing with an agony of anxiety. Was she

going to carry the note to his wife? But she did not even hesitate at

the door of Lady Wolfer's room, but went straight to her own, and he

heard the key turn as she locked it.

The sweat was standing in great drops upon his forehead, and he put up a

trembling hand and wiped them away as he looked toward his wife's door.

Should he go in and question her? Should he ask her straightly whether

the note was intended for her or Nell? It seemed too horrible to suspect

the girl who had seemed innocence and purity itself, and yet had he not

seen her go straight for the book, as if she had known that it was there

waiting for her?