Nell of Shorne Mills

She went up to her room--a room in which the ceiling was "covered" to

the shape of the thatched roof.

She was brushing the long tresses of soft, fluffy black hair which

Drake had loved to kiss, when she heard the sound of a horse trotting up

the avenue.

She went to the window, and, screened by the curtain, looked out. A full

moon was shining and flooding the avenue With light.

She waited, looking out absently. The sound came nearer, and suddenly

the horseman came in sight. Holding the muslin curtain for a screen, she

still waited and watched for him. Then, with a faint cry--a cry almost

of terror--she shrank back.

For the man who was riding up the avenue to Anglemere was strangely like

Drake!

He had passed in an instant; his head was bowed, his face only for a

moment in the moonlight, and yet--and yet! Was she dreaming--was fancy

only trifling with her--or was it indeed and in truth Drake himself?