Nell of Shorne Mills

"You can see how high his lordship stands not only in the county, but

everywhere," said Mrs. Hawksley proudly. "They treat him almost as if he

were a prince of the blood; and he is the principal gentleman here,

though there's some high and mighty ones down there, Miss Lorton, I

assure you. That's the Duchess of Cleavemere in that big chair on the

dais; and that's her eldest daughter--she'll be as big as the duchess,

mark my words--seated beside her; and that's the Marquis of Downfield,

that tall gentleman with the white hair. He's a great man, but he can't

hold a candle, in appearance, to our earl; and he's a poor man compared

with his lordship. And that's Lord Turfleigh, that old gentleman with

the very black hair and mustache; dyed, of course, my dear. The 'wicked

Lord Turfleigh' they call him--and no wonder. He's the father of Lady

Luce. Ah! his lordship's going to dance with her again! Look how pleased

her father looks. See, he's nodding and smiling at her; I'll be bound I

know what he's thinking of! And I shouldn't be surprised if it came off.

Lord Selbie and she used to be engaged, but it was broken off when his

lordship's uncle married. The Turfleighs are too poor to risk a marriage

without money. But his lordship's the earl now, and, of course----"

Nell understood. It was because the woman he loved had jilted him that

Drake had hidden himself from the world at Shorne Mills. That was why he

had looked so sad and cast down the day she had first seen him.

"It's a pity your brother doesn't come up," said Mrs. Hawksley, who was

standing behind Nell, and could not see the white, strained face. "He'd

enjoy the sight, I'm sure. I'm half inclined to send a word to him."

Nell caught her arm. Dick must not come up here and recognize Drake,

must not see her white face and trembling lips. If possible, she must

leave Anglemere in the morning; must induce Dick to go before he could

learn that Drake and Lord Angleford were one and the same.

"My brother would not come," she said. "Please do not send for him.

He--the lights----"

Mrs. Hawksley nodded.

"As you think best, my dear," she said. "But it's a pity. Here's the

interval now. What is going on in the orchestra?"

Nell looked toward the band, which had ceased playing; but Falconer was

softly tuning his violin. About half the dancers had left the room, and

those that remained were pacing up and down, talking and laughing, or

seated in couples in the alcoves and recesses.