Nell of Shorne Mills

She had just won a military steeplechase, and Vernon nodded assent.

"You must persuade your sister to ride her," he said.

As he spoke, he seated himself on the edge of the steep roadway which

led to the jetty.

"Take the horses in," he said. "I'll come up in a few minutes."

But the minutes ran into hours. He looked out to sea with a meditative

and retrospective mind. He was going over the past which seemed so far

away, so vague, since he had gone sailing in the _Annie Laurie_ this

morning.

Then suddenly the past became the present. There was a stir on the jetty

below him. Voices--the voice of fashionable people, the voices of

"society"--rose in an indistinguishable sound to his ears. He moved

uneasily, and refilled and lit the pipe that he had borrowed of Dick. He

heard the footsteps of several persons climbing the steep stairs. One

seemed familiar to him. He pulled at his pipe, and crossed his legs with

an air of preparation, of resignation.

The voices came nearer, and presently one said: "I certainly, for one, decline to go any farther. I think it is too

absurd to expect one to climb these ridiculous steps. And there is

nothing to see up there, is there?"

At the sound of the voice, clear and bell-like, yet languid, with the

languor of the fashionable woman, Mr. Drake Vernon bit his lips and

colored. He half rose, but sank down again, as if uncertain whether to

meet her, or to remain where he was; eventually he crossed his legs

again, rammed down his pipe, and waited.

"Oh, but you'll come up to the top, Lady Lucille!" remonstrated a man's

voice, the half-nasal drawl of the man about town--the ordinary club

lounger. "There's a view, don't you know--there really is!"

"I don't care for views. Not another step, Archie. I'll wait here till

you come back. You can describe the view--or, rather, you can't, thank

Heaven!"

As she spoke, she mounted a few steps, and turned into the small square

which offered a resting place on the steep ascent, and so came full upon

Mr. Vernon.

He rose and raised his hat, and she looked at him, at first with the

vagueness of sheer amazement, then with a start of recognition, and with

her fair face all crimson for one instant, and, the next, pale, she

said, in a suppressed voice, as if she were afraid of being overheard: "Drake!"

He looked at her with a curious smile, as if something in the tone of

her voice, in her sudden pallor following upon her; blush, were

significant, and had told himself something.