Nell of Shorne Mills

But it did not matter, could not matter to her. He was back in England,

and dancing with the woman he loved--with the beautiful Lady Luce, whom

he had kissed on the terrace.

"And what do you think of his lordship?" Mrs. Hawksley asked, as if the

Right Honorable the Earl of Angleford were her special property. "I

wasn't far wrong, was I, Miss Lorton, when I said that he would be the

finest, handsomest man in the room?"

"No," said Nell, scarcely knowing what she answered. "That is----" She

put her hand to her lips. Even now she had not realized that her Drake

and the earl were one and the same man. "Oh, yes; he is handsome,

and----" she finished, as the old lady eyed her half indignantly. "But

I--I have made a mistake. I mean----What was Lord Angleford called

before he succeeded to the title?"

Mrs. Hawksley looked at her rather curiously.

"Why, Lord Selbie, of course," she said. "He ought, being one of the

Anglefords, to have been Lord Vernon, Drake Vernon; but his father was a

famous statesman, a governor of New South Wales and they made him a

viscount. Do you understand?" she asked, proud of her own knowledge of

these intricacies of the earl's names and titles.

Poor Nell looked confused. But it did not matter. She had learned

enough. Drake Vernon, who had made her love him, and had asked her to be

his wife, had been Lord Selbie. Why had he concealed his rank? Why had

he deceived her? He had seemed so honest and true, that she would have

trusted him with her life as freely as she had given him her love; and

all the while----Oh, why had he done it? Was it worth while to

masquerade as a mere nobody, to pretend that he was poor? Had he, even

from the very first, not intended to marry her? Was he only--amusing

himself?

Her face was dyed, with the shame of the thought, for a moment, then the

hot flush went and left her pale and wan.

Drake was the Earl of Angleford, and she--she the girl whose heart he

had broken, was in his house, looking on at him among his guests! The

thought was almost unendurable, and she slowly rose from her chair; then

she sat down again, for she was trembling and quite incapable of leaving

the gallery.

How long she sat in this state she did not know. The ball went on. She

saw Drake--no, the earl--would she never realize it?--dancing

frequently. Sometimes he joined the group of dowagers and chaperons on

the dais at the other end of the room, or leaned against the wall and

talked with the nondancing men; and wherever he went she saw that he was

received with that subtle empressement with which the children of Vanity

Fair indicate their respect for high rank and wealth.