d.i.c.k uttered a low whistle, and gazed at her, aghast.

"All off!" he said. "Phew! Why--when--how?"

She began to collect some of her small belongings--a tiny workbasket, some books, and such like, and answered as she moved to and fro, studiously keeping her face turned away from him:

"I can't tell you; don't ask me, d.i.c.k. Don't--don't ask him. It--it is all right. It is all for the best, as mamma would say; and--and----" She went behind him and laid her hand on his shoulder, her favorite att.i.tude when she was serious or pleading. "And mind, d.i.c.k, it is to make no difference between you--and Drake. It--is--yes, it is all my fault. I--I was foolish and----"

She could bear no more; and, with a quick movement of her hand to her throat, hastened from the room.

d.i.c.k looked after her ruefully for a moment or two, then his face cleared, and he winked to himself.

"What an a.s.s I am to be upset by a lovers' quarrel. Of course, it's all in the game. The other business would pall after a time if there wasn't a little of this kind of thing chucked in for a change. I wonder whether that jolly girl, Miss Angel, will come down to the lunch? Now, there's a girl no chap could have even a lovers' quarrel with. Poor old Drake! Bet I shall find 'em billing and cooing as usual when I come back," And d.i.c.k grinned as he marched off with his gun.

CHAPTER XIX.

Drake rode over to the Grange for breakfast, according to his promise.

He was glad of the ride, glad of an hour or two in which he could think over the dramatic events of the preceding night, and, so to speak, clear his brain of the unpleasant glamour which Lady Luce's words and behavior had produced.

Not for a moment did he swerve from his allegiance to Nell; never for a moment did the splendor of Luce's beauty, the trick of her soft voice, her pa.s.sionate caress, eclipse the starlike purity of Nell's nature and personality. If it were possible, he loved Nell better and more devotedly, longed for her more ardently, since his meeting with Luce, than he had done before.

All the way to the Grange he rehea.r.s.ed what he would say to Nell when he rode back to The Cottage. He would tell her everything; would beg her to forgive him for his deception, his concealment of his full name and t.i.tle, and--yes, he would admit that he had once loved, or thought that he had loved, Lady Luce; but that now----Well, there was only one woman in the world for him, and that was Nell.

He found Sir William standing on the lawn, dressed in riding cords of the good old kind, loose in fit and yellow in color, and surrounded by dogs of divers shapes and various breeds. He was as ruddy-cheeked and bright-eyed as if he had been to bed last night at ten o'clock, and he scanned the well-set-up Drake as he rode up, with a nod of approval.

"Up to time, Mr. Vernon--got your name right at last, eh? None the worse for the hop last night, I suppose? Don't look any, anyway. That's a good nag you're riding. Bred him yourself, eh? Gad! It's the best way, if it's the dearest."

He called for a groom to take the horse, and bade Drake come in to breakfast.

"You'll find n.o.body down, and we shall have it all to ourselves. That's the worst of women: keep 'em up half an hour later than usual, or upset their nerves with a bit of a row or anything of that kind, and, by George! they've got to lie abed the next morning! Now, help yourself to anything you see--have anything else cooked if you don't fancy what's here. I always toy with half a pound of steak, just to lay a foundation; been my breakfast, man and boy, for longer than I can remember."

Drake ate his breakfast and listened to the genial old man--not very attentively, it is to be feared, for he was thinking of Nell most of the time--and when the baronet had demolished his steak, they went to the farm, followed by the motley collection of dogs which had waited outside with more or less patience for the reappearance of their master, and welcomed him with a series of yappings and barkings which might have been heard a mile off.

The farm was a good one, and Drake gradually got interested in the really splendid cattle which Sir William exhibited with the enthusiasm of a breeder. The morning slipped away, but though Drake glanced at his watch significantly now and again, Sir William would not let him go; and at last he said:

"What's your hurry, Vernon? Why not ride to Shallop with me? You could look around the town while I'm on the bench--unless you care to step into court and see how we administer justice--hah! hah! it's only a few 'drunk and disorderlies' or a case of a.s.sault that we get nowadays; or perhaps a petty larceny--anyway, you will ride into the town with me, and we will have a bit of lunch together at the Crown and Scepter. No, I won't take any refusal! To tell you the truth, I want to have a chat with you about that last bull I showed you."

Drake, thinking that it would be quicker to consent--that is to say, to ride into Shallop and cut across the country to Shorne Mills, yielded; the horses were brought round, and after Sir William had disposed of a tankard of ale, by way of a good, old-fashioned stirrup cup, the two men started.

Sir William talked and joked as they rode along, and Drake pretended to listen, while in reality he continued his rehearsal of all he would say to Nell when presently he should be by her side, with his arms round her and her head on his breast.

It was market day at Shallop, and the usual crowd of pigs and sheep and cattle, with their attendant drovers and farmers, blocked the streets.

Sir William pulled up occasionally, throwing a word to one and another, but the two men reached the Town Hall at last, and Drake was just on the point of remarking that he would be off, when he saw Sir William grow very red in the face and very bulgy about the eyes, while at the same time his big hand went in a helpless kind of fashion to his old-fashioned neck stock.

Drake could not imagine what was the matter, and was still in the first throes of amazement when Sir William suddenly swayed to and fro in the saddle, and then fell across his horse's neck to the ground.

Drake was off his horse in a moment, and had raised the old man's head as quickly. A crowd collected almost as rapidly as if the place had been London, and cries of "Dear, dear! it's Sir William! it's a fit! Fetch a doctor!" rose from all sides.

A doctor presently pushed his way through the gaping mob of farmers and tradesmen, and knelt beside Drake.

"Apoplexy," he said, pursing his lips and shaking his head. "Always thought it would happen. Let us get him to the hotel."

Between them they carried the stricken man to the Crown and Scepter, at which--irony of fate!--Sir William would have lunched, and got him to bed.

"I've warned him once or twice," said the doctor, with a shrug of the shoulders. "But what's the use! You tell a man to cut tobacco and spirits, or they will kill him, or to refrain from rump steak and old ale for breakfast, and he obeys you--until the next time!"

"Is he going to die?" asked Drake sadly, for he had taken a fancy to the old man.

"No-o; I don't think so. Not this time. We shall have to keep him quiet.

Lady Maltby ought to know--ought to be here. And we mustn't frighten her. Would you mind riding over for her--bringing her, I mean? She'll want some one with her who can keep a cool head, and I fancy you can do that, sir."

"That's all right," said Drake at once; "of course I'll go."

So it happened that, instead of riding to Shorne Mills and seeing Nell, and telling her the truth, the whole truth, which would have turned her misery to happiness, he was going as fast as his horse could carry him back to the Grange.

It was not the first time he had broken bad news--he had seen men fall in the hunting field, and on the race course, and had had more than once to carry the tidings to the bereaved--and he fulfilled his sad task with all the tact of which he was capable. So well, indeed, that even if he had intended permitting Lady Maltby to proceed to Shallop without him, she would not have let him go. The poor woman clung to him, as women in their hour of need always cling to the strong man near them.

They found Sir William coming back to consciousness--a condition which, though fortunate for him, was unfortunate for Drake; for the sick man seemed to cling to him and to rely upon him just as Lady Maltby had done. He implored Drake not to leave him, and Drake sat on one side of the bed, with the frightened wife on the other, until Sir William fell into a more or less refreshing slumber.

It was just four when he mounted his horse and rode to Shorne Mills. The performance of a good deed always brings a certain amount of satisfaction with it, and, as he rode along, Drake felt more at ease than he had done since the scene with Lady Luce. Indeed, last night seemed very far away, and the incident on the terrace of very little consequence. Death, or the warning of death, is so solemn a thing that other matters dwarf beside it. But his resolution to tell Nell everything had not weakened, and he urged his rather tired horse along the steep and switchbacky road.

At a place called Short's Cross he caught sight of the Shorne Mills carrier on his way to the station. But Drake did not guess that Nell was sitting under the tilt cover, that by just turning his horse and riding hard for a minute or two he could be beside her. He glanced at the cart, thought of the day he had first seen it, and of all that had happened since, and, gently touching his horse with his whip, rode on.

The sun was sinking as he crossed the moor, and the cliffs were dyed a fiery red as he came in sight of them and The Cottage on the brow of the hill. His heart beat fast during the few minutes spent in reaching the garden gate. What would she say? Would she be much startled when she learned that he was "Lord Selbie"? Would she understand that he had never really loved Luce; that it was she--Nell--whom he wanted for his wife, had wanted almost from the first day of his seeing her?

At the sound of the horse's hoofs d.i.c.k came out of The Cottage, and down to the gate.

"Hallo!" he exclaimed. "Why, where on earth have you been?"

Drake explained as he got off the horse.

"I breakfasted at the Grange. I don't think I mentioned it last night, did I? Then I rode into Shallop with Sir William, and he had a fit of some sort--apoplexy, I fancy--and I had to come back and fetch Lady Maltby. Then the poor old chap came to, and--well, he felt like wanting company, and I couldn't leave him until he fell asleep."

"Poor old chap! I haven't heard a word of it," said d.i.c.k. "I say, come in! Mamma will be delighted to hear news of that kind--no, no; I don't mean--you know what I mean. Something exciting like that is like a bottle of champagne to her."

"I'll take the horse in; he's had rather a hard day of it," said Drake.

"I've bucketed him up hill and down dale; obliged to, you know."

As he spoke, he looked beyond d.i.c.k and toward the open door of The Cottage wistfully. Why didn't Nell come out? As a rule, it was she who first heard the sound of his footsteps or his horse's.

"I'll take it. Oh, I say, Drake, how awfully kind of you to--to----Bardsley & Bardsley, you know! Upon my word, I don't know how to thank you! I don't, indeed!"

"That's all right," said Drake. "Hope it's what you want, d.i.c.k. If it isn't, we must find something else. Anyway, you can try it."

"What I want! Rather! I should think so! As I told Nell----"