"Would to God it had been!" said Drake. The village nurse, whom the
doctor had instructed to follow him, entered and moved with professional
calm to the bedside, and the doctor gave her some instructions.
"I'll send you some help, nurse," he said.
As he spoke, Nell came to the door.
"No," she said, very quietly; "there is no need; I will help."
Almost as if he had heard her, Falconer's lips quivered, and he murmured
something. Nell glided to the bed, and kneeling beside him, took his
hand. His eyes opened, with the vacant stare of unconsciousness for a
moment, then they recognized her, and he spoke her name.
"Nell!"
"Yes," she whispered, in response. "It is I. You are here at the lodge.
Here is Dick, and"--her voice fell before Drake's steady regard--"you
are with friends, and safe."
He smiled, but his eyes did not leave her face.
"I know," he said. "I--I am more than content."
Drake could bear it no longer. Dick followed him out of the room, and
they went downstairs.
"I will wire for Sir William, the surgeon," said Drake, very quietly.
"He will come down by the first train. Everything shall be done.
Tell--tell your sister----"
Dick nodded gravely.
"He's one of the best fellows in the world; he's worth saving, Drake----"
he said. "I beg your pardon," he broke off. "I--I suppose I ought to call
you 'my lord' now. I can scarcely realize yet----"
Drake flushed almost angrily.
"For Heaven's sake, no!" he exclaimed. "There need be no difference
between you and me, Dick, whatever there may be between----I'll come
across in the morning to inquire, and I'll tell you all that has
happened. Dick, you'll have to forgive me for hiding my right name down
there at Shorne Mills. It was a folly; but one gets punished for one's
follies," he added, as he held out his hand.
Still confused by the discovery that his old friend "Drake Vernon" was
Lord Angleford, Dick could only let him go in silence, and Drake passed
out.
As he did so, he looked up at the window of the sick room. A shadow
passed the blind, and as he recognized it he sighed heavily. Yes;
notwithstanding his wound and his peril, the penniless musician was the
lucky man, and he, my Lord of Angleford, the most unfortunate and
unhappy.
Slowly he made his way toward the house, and as he went the face and the
voice of the woman he loved haunted him. For a moment she had rested in
his arms, and he could still feel her head on his breast, still hear the
"Drake, Drake!"