Nell of Shorne Mills

Nell nodded. She quite understood his dislike of the part of interesting

invalid.

"And there's really nothing the matter with me, don't you know," he said

earnestly; "nothing but this arm, which doesn't exactly lame me. Won't

you sit down?"

Nell hesitated a moment, then took a chair at the other side of the

window.

"You've a splendid view here," he remarked, staring steadily out of the

window, for he felt rather than saw that the girl was a little shy--not

shy, but, rather, that she scarcely knew what to say.

"Oh, yes," she assented, in a voice in which there was certainly no

shyness. "There is a good view from all the windows; we are so high.

Won't you have your beef tea?"

"Certainly. I'd forgotten it. Don't get up. I'll----"

But Nell had got up before he could rise. As she brought the tray to him

he glanced up at her. He had been staring at the bedroom wall paper for

some days, and perhaps the contrast offered by Nell's fresh, young

loveliness made it seem all the fresher and more striking. There was

something in the curve of the lips, in the expression of the gray eyes,

a "sweet sadness," as the poet puts it, which impressed him.

"It's very good to be down again," he said. She had not gone back to her

chair, but leaned in the angle of the bay window, and looked down at the

village below. "I seem to have been in bed for ages."

She nodded.

"I know. I remember feeling like that when I got up after the measles,

years ago."

"Not many years ago," he suggested, with a faint smile.

"It seems a long time ago to me," said Nell. "I remember that for weeks

and months after I got well I hated the sight and smell of beef tea and

arrowroot. And Doctor Spence--your doctor, you know--gave me a glass of

ale one day, and stood over me while I drank it. He can be very firm

when he likes, not to say obstinate."

Mr. Vernon listened to the musical voice, and looked at the slim,

girlish figure and spirituelle face absently; and when there fell a

silence he showed no disposition to break it. It was difficult to find

anything to talk about with so young and inexperienced a girl, and it

was almost with an air of relief that he turned as Mrs. Lorton entered.

"And how do you feel now?" she asked, with bated breath. "Weak and

faint, I'm afraid. I know how exhausting one feels the first time of

getting down. Eleanor, I do hope you have not been tiring Mr. Vernon by

talking too much."