Nell of Shorne Mills

Dick stared, and emitted a low whistle.

"'Pon my word, you've been a-going of it, Nell! Sounds like a play: 'The

Mysterious Stranger and the Village Maiden.' Scene one. Enter the

stranger: 'My horse is weary; no human habitation nigh. Where to find a

resting place for my tired steed and my aching head! Ah! what is this? A

simple child of Nature. I will seek direction at her hands.' Horse takes

fright; mysterious stranger is thrown. Maiden falls on her knees: 'Ah,

Heaven! 'tis he! 'tis he!'"

Nell laughed, but her face crimsoned.

"Dick, don't be an idiot, if you can help it. I know it is

difficult----"

"Spare your blushes, my child," he retorted blandly. "The Mysterious S.

will turn out to be a commercial traveler with a wife and seven

children. But, Nell, what does mamma say?"

"She likes it," said Nell, with a smile. "She is happier and more

interested than I have ever seen her."

Dick struck an attitude and his forehead.

"Can it be--oh, can it be that the romance will end another way? Are we

going to lose our dear mamma? Grateful stranger--love at first

sight----"

"Dick, you are the worst kind of imbecile! He is years younger than

mamma--young enough to be her son. Now, Dick, dry up, and don't make a

noise. He is really ill. I know it by the way the old doctor smiles. He

always smiles and grins when the case is serious. You'll be quiet, Dick,

dear?"

"This tender solicitude for the sufferer touches me deeply," he

whimpered, mopping his eyes. "Oh, yes, I'll be quiet, Nell. Much as I

love excitement, I'm not anxious for a funeral, and a bereaved and

heartbroken sister. Shall I take my boots off before entering the abode

of sickness, or shall I walk in on my head?"

The day passed. Dick, driven almost mad by the enforced quietude, and

the incessant "Hushes!" of Mrs. Lorton, betook himself to his tool shed

to mend his fishing rod--and cut his fingers--and then to bed. Molly

went to the sick room in the capacity of nurse, and Mrs. Lorton, after

desiring everybody that she should be called if "a change took place,"

retired to the rest earned by pleasurable excitement; and Nell stole

past the spare-room door to her nest under the roof.

As she undressed slowly, she paused now and again to listen. All was

quiet; the injured man was still sleeping. She went to the open window

and looked out seaward. Something was stirring within her, something

that was like the faint motion of the air before a storm. Is it possible

that we have some premonition of the first change in our lives; the

change which is to alter the course of every feeling, every action? She

knew too little of life or the world to ask herself the question; but

she was conscious of a sensation of unrest, of disquietude. She could

not free herself from the haunting presence of the handsome face, of the

dark and weary, wistful eyes. The few sentences he had spoken kept

repeating themselves in her ear, striking on her brain with soft

persistence. The very name filled her thoughts. "Drake Vernon, Drake

Vernon!"