"You are right, Mrs. Hawksley," said Nell. "They are magnificent. What a lovely scene!"

"I am glad you are pleased, Miss Lorton," responded the old lady, as if she had got up the whole show for Nell's sole benefit. "I am looking for the earl, to point him out to you; but I don't see him. He must be under the gallery at this moment. Ah! yes; here he comes. Now, quick! lean forward. There! that tall gentleman with the fair lady on his arm. Lean forward a little more, and you will see him quite plainly. The lady's in a kind of pale mauve silk----"

Nell leaned forward with all a girl's eager curiosity; then she uttered a faint cry, and drew back. The couple Mrs. Hawksley had pointed out were Drake and Lady Luce. Drake!

"What is the matter? Did any one squeeze you? Did you see his lordship?"

asked Mrs. Hawksley.

"No," said Nell, trying to keep her voice steady. "I--I saw that gentleman with the lady in mauve; but----"

Mrs. Hawksley stared at her.

"Well, that is the earl. That is Lord Angleford with Lady Luce Turfleigh on his arm."

CHAPTER XXIX.

Nell sat still--very, very still. The vast room seemed to rise and sway before her like a ship in a heavy sea; the lights danced in a mad whirl; the music roared a chaos of sound in her ears, and a deathly feeling crept over her.

"I will not faint--I will not faint!" she said to herself, clenching her teeth hard, and gripping her dress with her cold hands. "It is a mistake--a mistake. It is not Drake. I thought I saw him the other night; it is thinking, always thinking of him, that makes me fancy any one like him must be he! Yes; it is a mistake."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them and found that the room had ceased rocking, and the lights were still, she leaned forward, calling all her courage to her aid, and looked again.

A waltz was in progress, and the rich dresses, the flashing jewels whirled like the colored pieces of a kaleidoscope, and for a moment or two she could not distinguish the members of the glittering crowd; but presently she saw the tall figure again. He was dancing with Lady Luce; they came down toward the gallery end of the room, floating with the exquisite grace of a couple whose steps are in perfect harmony, and Nell saw that she had made no mistake--that it was Drake indeed.

She drew a long breath, and sank back; Mrs. Hawksley leaned toward her.

"Do you feel faint, Miss Lorton? It's very hot up here. Would you like to go down----"

"No, no!" said Nell quickly, almost anxiously. She did not want to go.

It was agony to see him dancing with this beautiful woman, whose hair shone like gold, whose grace of form and movement were conspicuous even among so many graceful and beautiful women; but a kind of fascination made Nell feel as if she could not go, as if she must drain her cup of misery to the dregs. "No, no; I am not faint--not now. It is hot, but I am--all right."

She gazed with set face and panic-stricken eyes at the couple, as they floated down the room again. It was Drake, but--how changed! He looked many years older--and his face was stern and grave--sterner and graver and sadder even than when she had first seen it that day the horse had flung him at her feet. It had grown brighter and happier while he had stayed at Shorne Mills--it had been transformed, indeed, for the few short weeks he had been her lover; but the look of content, of joy in life which it wore in her remembrance, had gone again. Had he been ill?

she wondered. Where had he been; what had he been doing?

But it did not matter, could not matter to her. He was back in England, and dancing with the woman he loved--with the beautiful Lady Luce, whom he had kissed on the terrace.

"And what do you think of his lordship?" Mrs. Hawksley asked, as if the Right Honorable the Earl of Angleford were her special property. "I wasn't far wrong, was I, Miss Lorton, when I said that he would be the finest, handsomest man in the room?"

"No," said Nell, scarcely knowing what she answered. "That is----" She put her hand to her lips. Even now she had not realized that her Drake and the earl were one and the same man. "Oh, yes; he is handsome, and----" she finished, as the old lady eyed her half indignantly. "But I--I have made a mistake. I mean----What was Lord Angleford called before he succeeded to the t.i.tle?"

Mrs. Hawksley looked at her rather curiously.

"Why, Lord Selbie, of course," she said. "He ought, being one of the Anglefords, to have been Lord Vernon, Drake Vernon; but his father was a famous statesman, a governor of New South Wales and they made him a viscount. Do you understand?" she asked, proud of her own knowledge of these intricacies of the earl's names and t.i.tles.

Poor Nell looked confused. But it did not matter. She had learned enough. Drake Vernon, who had made her love him, and had asked her to be his wife, had been Lord Selbie. Why had he concealed his rank? Why had he deceived her? He had seemed so honest and true, that she would have trusted him with her life as freely as she had given him her love; and all the while----Oh, why had he done it? Was it worth while to masquerade as a mere n.o.body, to pretend that he was poor? Had he, even from the very first, not intended to marry her? Was he only--amusing himself?

Her face was dyed, with the shame of the thought, for a moment, then the hot flush went and left her pale and wan.

Drake was the Earl of Angleford, and she--she the girl whose heart he had broken, was in his house, looking on at him among his guests! The thought was almost unendurable, and she slowly rose from her chair; then she sat down again, for she was trembling and quite incapable of leaving the gallery.

How long she sat in this state she did not know. The ball went on. She saw Drake--no, the earl--would she never realize it?--dancing frequently. Sometimes he joined the group of dowagers and chaperons on the dais at the other end of the room, or leaned against the wall and talked with the nondancing men; and wherever he went she saw that he was received with that subtle empress.e.m.e.nt with which the children of Vanity Fair indicate their respect for high rank and wealth.

"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 princ.i.p.al gentleman here, though there's some high and mighty ones down there, Miss Lorton, I a.s.sure you. That's the d.u.c.h.ess of Cleavemere in that big chair on the dais; and that's her eldest daughter--she'll be as big as the d.u.c.h.ess, 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. d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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.

Falconer finished tuning, glanced toward Nell--the gallery was too dimly lit for him to see the pallor of her face--then began to play a solo.

Coming after the dance music, the sonata he had chosen was like a breath of pure, heather-scented air floating in upon the gas-laden atmosphere of the heated room; and at the first strains of the delicious melody the people below stopped talking, and turned their eyes up to the front of the gallery, where the tall, thin form in its worn velvet jacket stood, for that moment, at least, the supreme figure.

Nell, as she listened, felt as if a cool, pitying hand had fallen upon her aching heart; as if a voice of thrilling sweetness were whispering tender consolation. Never loud, but with an insistent force which held the listeners in thrall, sometimes so low that it was but a murmur, the exquisite music stole over the senses of all, awakening tender memories, reviving scattered hopes, softening, for the short s.p.a.ce it held its sway, world-hardened hearts.

The tears gathered in Nell's eyes, bringing her infinite relief; but she could see through her tears that the great hall was filling with the hasty return of those who had been within hearing of the music, and when it ceased there rose a burst of applause, led by the earl himself.

"How very beautiful!" exclaimed the d.u.c.h.ess, who was on his arm. "The man must be a genius. Where did you find him, Lord Angleford?"

Drake did not reply for a moment, as if he had not heard her. The music had moved him more deeply, perhaps, than it had moved any other. His face was set, his brows knit, and his head drooped as if weighed down by some memory. He had been so occupied by his duties as host that he had forgotten the past for that hour or two, at any rate; but at the first strains of the music Nell came back to him. It was the swell of the tide against the _Annie Laurie_; it was Nell's voice itself which he heard through the melody of the famous sonata. He listened with an aching longing for those past weeks of pure and perfect love, with a loathing for the empty, desolate present. "Nell! Nell!" his heart seemed to cry.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I did not find him. He is here by chance."

"He must be a very great musician," said the d.u.c.h.ess enthusiastically.

"What is his name?"

"Falconer," replied Drake. "He's staying at one of the lodges."

"He played superbly. Do you think I could persuade him to come on to the court for the ninth? I wish you'd ask him. But surely he is going to play again?" she added eagerly.

"I will ask him," said Drake.

"Yes, do, Drake," murmured Lady Luce, who had reentered the room and glided near him. The divine music had not touched her in the least; indeed, she had thought the solo rather out of place at a dance--quite too sad and depressing; but as she seconded the d.u.c.h.ess' request, her blue eyes seemed dim with tears, and her lips tremulous. "It was so very beautiful! I am half crying!" and the perfectly shaped lips pouted piteously.