this is the gentleman as is staying at the cottage, Miss Nell?" she said. "I hope your arm's better, sir?"
Drake made a suitable and satisfactory response, and Nell, having talked to the two little girls, who had got as near to her as their shyness would permit, rose.
"Thank you so much for the milk and cakes, Mrs. Trimble," she said. "We were quite famishing, weren't we?"
"Quite famished," assented Drake.
Mrs. Trimble beamed.
"You be main welcome, Miss Nell, as 'ee knows full well; I wish 'ee could ride out to us every day. And that's a beautiful horse you're on, miss, surely!"
"Isn't it?" said Nell. "It's Mr. Vernon's; he is kind enough to lend it to me."
Mrs. Trimble glanced significantly again at Drake; but again Nell failed to see or understand the quick, intelligent question in the eyes.
"Speakin' o' Emma, I've got her letter in my pocket, Miss Nell; and I'm thinkin' I'll give it 'ee; for the address, you know. It's on the top, writ clear, and if you should go to London——"
Nell took the precious letter, and put it with marked carefulness in the bosom of her habit.
"I shall like to read it, Mrs. Trimble. Emma and I were such good friends, weren't we? And I'll be sure to let you have it back."
The whole of the family crowded out to see Miss Nell of Shorne Mills drive off, and Drake had to maneuver skillfully to get a coin into Bobby's chubby, and somewhat grubby, hand unseen by Nell.
They rode on in silence for a time. The scene had impressed Drake. The affection of the whole of them for Nell had been so evident, and the sweet simplicity of her nature had displayed itself so ingenuously, that he felt—well, as he had felt once or twice coming out of church.
Then he remembered the woman's significant glance, and his conscience smote him. No doubt all Shorne Mills was connecting his name with hers. Yes; he must go.
She was singing softly as she rode beside him, and they exchanged scarcely half a dozen sentences on the way home; but yet Nell seemed happy and content, and as she slipped from her saddle in front of the garden gate, she breathed a sigh of keen pleasure.
"Oh, I have enjoyed it so much!" she said, as he looked at her inquiringly. "Is there anything more beautiful and lovable than a horse?"
As she spoke, she stroked the mare's satin neck, and the animal turned its great eyes upon her with placid affection and gratitude. Drake looked from the horse to the girl, but said nothing, and at that moment Dick came out to take the horses down to the stables.
"Had a good ride, Nell?" he asked. "Wants a lot of coaching, doesn't she, Mr. Vernon? But I assure you I've done my best with her; girls are the most stupid creatures in the world; and the last person they'll learn anything from is their brother."
Nell managed to tilt his cap over his eyes as she ran in, and Dick looked after her longingly, as he exclaimed portentously:
"That's one I owe you, my child."
Nell laughed back defiantly; but when she had got up to her own room, and was taking off the habit, something of the brightness left her face, and she sighed.
"I am sorry he is going," she murmured to her reflection in the glass. "How we shall miss him; all of us, Dick and mamma! And I shall miss him, too. Yes; I am sorry. It will seem so—so dull and dreary when he has gone. And he does not seem glad to go. But perhaps he only said that to please me, and because it was the proper thing to say. Of course, I—we—could not expect him to stay for the rest of his life in Shorne Mills."
She sighed again, and stood, with her habit half unbuttoned, looking beyond the glass into the past few happy weeks. Yes, it would seem very dull and dreary when he was gone.
But he still lingered on; his arm got well, his step was strong and firm, his voice and manner less grave and moody. He rode or sailed with her every day, Dick sometimes accompanying them; but he was only postponing the hour of his departure, and putting it away from him with a half-hesitating hand.
One afternoon, Dick burst into the sitting room—they were at tea—with a couple of parcels; one, a small square like a box, the other, a larger and heavier one.
"Just come by the carrier," he said; "addressed to 'Drake Vernon, Esquire.' The little one is registered. The carrier acted as auxiliary postman, and wants a receipt."
Drake signed the paper absently, with a scrawl of the pen which Dick brought him, and Dick, glancing at the signature mechanically, said:
"Well, that's a rum way of writing 'Vernon'!"
Drake looked up from cutting the string of the small box, and frowned slightly.
"Give it me back, please," he said, rather sharply. "It isn't fair to write so indistinctly."
Dick handed the receipt form back, and Drake ran his pen quickly through the "Selbie" which he had scrawled unthinkingly, and wrote Drake Vernon in its place.
Dick took the altered paper unsuspectingly to the carrier.
"So kind of you to trouble, Mr. Vernon!" said Mrs. Lorton. "As if it mattered how you wrote! My poor father used to say that only the illiterate were careful of their handwriting, and that illegible caligraphy—it is caligraphy, is it not?—was a sign of genius."
"Then I must be one of the greatest geniuses that ever lived," said Drake.
"And I'm another—if indifferent spelling is also a sign," said Dick cheerfully; "and Nell must cap us both, for she can neither write nor spell; few girls can," he added calmly. "Tobacco, Mr. Vernon?" nodding at the box.
By this time Drake had got its wrapper off and revealed a jewel case. He handed it to Mrs. Lorton with the slight awkwardness of a man giving a present.
"Here's a little thing I hope you will accept, Mrs. Lorton," he said.
"For me!" she exclaimed, bridling, and raising her brows with juvenile archness. "Are you sure it's for me? Now, shall I guess——"
"Oh, no, you don't, mamma," said Dick emphatically. "I'll open it if you can't manage it. Oh, I say!" he exclaimed, as Mrs. Lorton opened the case, and the sparkle of diamonds was emitted.
Mrs. Lorton echoed his exclamation, and her face flushed with all a woman's delight as she gazed at the diamond bracelet reposing on its bed of white plush.
"Really——My dear Mr. Vernon!" she gasped. "How—how truly magnificent! But surely not for me—for me!"
He was beginning to get, if not uncomfortable, a little bored, with a man's hatred of fuss.
"I'm afraid there's not much magnificence about it," he said, rather shortly. "I hope you like the pattern, style, or whatever you call it. I had to risk it, not being there to choose. And there's a gun in that case, Dick."
Dick made an indecent grab for the larger parcel, and, tearing off the wrapper, opened the thick leather case and took out a costly gun.
"And a Greener!" he exclaimed. "A Greener! I say, you know, sir——"
He laughed excitedly, his face flushed with delight, as he carried the gun to the window.
"Is it not perfect, simply perfect, Eleanor?" said Mrs. Lorton, holding out her arm with the bracelet on her wrist. "Really, I don't think you could have chosen a handsomer one, Mr. Vernon, if you had gone to London to do so."
"I am glad you are pleased with it," he said simply.
"Pleased? It is perfect! Eleanor, haven't you a word to say? No; I imagine you are too overwhelmed for words," said Mrs. Lorton, with a kind of cackle.
"It is very beautiful, mamma," she said gravely; and her face, as she leaned over the thing, was grave also.
Drake looked at her as he rose, and understood the look and the