The laugh floated up to Drake as he sat and finished his pipe, waiting until the party should get clear away, and his lips tightened grimly. Then he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, as he rose and went slowly up the hill.

After all, Lucille had only acted as he had expected. As he had said, she had engaged herself to Viscount Selbie, the heir to Angleford—not to Viscount Selbie, whose nose had been put out of joint by his uncle's marriage. He could not have expected a Lady Lucille Turfleigh to be faithful to her troth under such changed circumstances. But her desertion made him sore, if not actually unhappy. Indeed, he was rather surprised to find that he was more wounded in pride than heart. It is rather hurtful to one's vanity and self-esteem to be told by the woman whom you thought loved you, that she finds it "impossible" to marry you because you have lost your fortune or your once roseate prospects; and though Drake was the least conceited of men, he was smarting under the realization of his anticipations.

"She never loved me," he said bitterly. "Not one word of regret—real regret. She would have felt and shown more if she had been parting with a favorite horse or dog. God! what women this world makes of them! They are all alike! There's not one of them can love for love's sake, who cares for the man instead of the money. Not one, from the dairymaid to the duchess! Thank Heaven! my disillusionment has come before, instead of after, marriage. Yes, I've done with them. There is no girl alive, or to be born, who can make me feel another pang."

As he spoke, he heard a voice calling him: "Mr. Vernon! Mr. Vernon!" And there, in the garden, which stood out on the hill like a little terrace, was Nell. She had taken off her hat, and the faint breeze was stirring the soft tendrils on her forehead, and her eyes smiled joyously down at him.

"Tea is ready!" she said, her voice full and round, and coming down to him like the note of a thrush. "Where have you been? Mamma is quite anxious about you, and I have had the greatest difficulty in convincing her that there has not been an accident, and that I had not left you at the bottom of the bay."

He smiled up at her, but his smile came through the darkness of a cloud, and she noticed it.

"Has—has anything happened?" she asked, as she opened the gate for him; and her guileless eyes were raised to his with a sudden anxiety. "Are you ill—or—or overtired? Ah, yes! that must be it. I am so sorry!"

He frowned, and replied, almost harshly:

"Thanks. I am not in the least tired. How should I be? Why do you think so?"

Nell shrank a little.

"I—I thought you looked pale and tired," she said, in a voice so low and sweet that he was smitten with shame.

"Perhaps I am a bit played out," he said apologetically, and passing his hand over his brow as if to erase the lines which the scene with Lady Lucille had etched. "Your convalescent invalid is a trying kind of animal, Miss Nell, and—and you must forgive it for snapping."

"There is nothing to forgive," she said quietly. "It was thoughtless of me to let you stay out so long, and I deserve the lecture mamma has been giving me. Please come in to tea at once, or it will be repeated—the lecture, I mean."

They went into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Lorton sat with due state and dignity before her tea table; and, having got him into the easy-chair, the good lady began at once:

"So thoughtless of Eleanor to keep you out so long! You must be exhausted, I am sure. I know how trying the first days of recovery from illness are, and how even a little exertion will produce absolute collapse. Now, will you have a little brandy in your tea, Mr. Vernon? A teaspoonful will sometimes produce a magical effect," she added, as if she were recommending a peculiarly startling firework. "No? You are quite sure? And what is this Richard is telling me about two horses? He came rushing in just now with some story of horses that he had brought from Shallop."

Drake looked up with a casual air.

"Yes; they're mine. I was obliged to have them sent down. They were spoiling for want of exercise. I must turn them out in some of the fields here, or get some one to ride them, unless Dick and Miss Nell will be good-natured enough to exercise them."

Nell laughed softly.

"That is one way of putting it, isn't it, mamma? But I tell Mr. Vernon that I really must not, ought not, to take advantage of his good nature. It's all very well for Dick to——"

"What's all very well for Dick? And don't you take my name in vain quite so freely, young party," remarked that individual, entering the room and making for the tea table. "Don't you be taken in by all this pretended reluctance, Mr. Vernon. It's the old game of Richard III. refusing the crown. See English history book. Nell will be on that mare to-morrow morning safe enough, won't you, Nellikins? And I say, sir, you must get your arm right and ride with her. Perhaps she would not be too proud to take lessons from a stranger—from you, I mean—though she does turn up her nose at her brother's kindly meant hints, an operation which, as I am perpetually telling her, is quite superfluous, for it's turned up quite sufficiently as it is."

Nell glanced at Mrs. Lorton, who smiled with the air of a society lady settling a point of etiquette.

"If Mr. Vernon has really been so kind as to offer to lend you a horse, it would be ungrateful and churlish to refuse, Eleanor," she said.

"That's all right," said Dick. "Though you might say 'Thank you,' Nell. But, there; you'll never learn manners, though you may, after some long years, learn to ride. Did you see that yacht, sir?" he asked, turning to Drake.

Drake nodded carelessly.

"A spanker, wasn't she?" continued Dick. "Now, that's what I call a yacht. And hadn't she some swells on board! I met some of them coming up the hill. Talk about stylish togs!"

"No one talks of 'stylish togs' but savages in the wilds of London, and vulgar boys," remarked Nell.

Dick regarded her wistfully, and raised the last piece of the crust of his slice of bread and butter to throw at her, then refrained, with a reluctant sigh.

"I never saw anything like it out of a fashion plate. You ought to have been there, mamma," he put in, parenthetically. "You'd have appreciated them, no doubt, whereas I wasn't capable of anything but staring. They were swells—real swells, too; for I spoke to one of the crew who had Strolled up from the boat. The yacht's that racer, the Seagull. Do you know her, Mr. Vernon?"

"I've heard of her," said Drake.

"I forget the name of her owner; though the man told me; but he's a nobleman of sorts. There were no end of titled and fashionable people on board. A Sir—Sir Archie something; and a Lord and Lady Turfleigh, father and daughter—perhaps you know them?"

Drake looked at him through half-closed eyes.

"Yes, I've heard of them," he said. "May I have another cup of tea, Mrs. Lorton? Thanks, very much. The sail this morning has made me ravenous."

"I am so delighted," murmured Mrs. Lorton. "What name did you say, Richard? Turfleigh! Surely I have heard or seen that name——"

"I beg your pardon," said Drake, "but if Dick has quite finished his tea, I think I'll stroll down to the stables and look at the horses."

"Oh, right you are! Come on!" exclaimed Dick, with alacrity.

Mrs. Lorton looked after the tall figure as it went out beside the boy's.

"Mr. Vernon must be very well off, Eleanor," she said musingly, and with a little, satisfied smile at the corners of her mouth. "Three horses. And have you noticed that pearl stud? It is a black one, and must have cost a great deal; and there is a certain look, air, about him, which you, my dear Eleanor, are not likely to notice or understand, but which, to one of my experience of the world, is significant. Did he seem to enjoy his sail this morning?"

"Yes, I think so," absently replied Nell, who was watching the tall figure as it went down the hill.

Mrs. Lorton coughed in a genteel fashion, and her smile grew still more self-satisfied.

"He could not be in a better place," she said; "could not possibly, and I do trust he will not think of leaving us until he is quite restored to health. I must really impress upon him how glad we are to have him, and how his presence cheers our dull and lonely lives."

Nell laughed softly.

"Mr. Vernon does not strike me as being particularly cheerful," she remarked; "at least, not generally," she qualified, as she remembered the unwonted brightness which he had displayed in the Annie Laurie.

"In-deed! You are quite wrong, Eleanor," said Mrs. Lorton stiffly. "I consider Mr. Vernon a most entertaining and brilliant companion; and I, for one, should very deeply deplore his departure. I trust, therefore, you will do all you can to make his stay pleasant and to induce him to prolong it. Three horses; ahem!"—she coughed behind her mittened hand—"has he—er—hinted, given you any idea of his position and—er—income, Eleanor?"

Nell flushed and shook her head.

"No, mamma," she said reluctantly. "Why should he? We are not curious——"

"Certainly not!" assented Mrs. Lorton, bridling. "I may have my faults, but curiosity is certainly not one of them. I merely thought that he might have dropped a word or two about himself, or his people, and the—ahem!—extent of his fortune."

Nell shook her head again.

"Nary a word—I mean, not a word!" she corrected herself hastily; "and, like yourself, mamma, I am not curious. What does it matter what and who he is, or who his people are? He will be gone in a day or two, and we shall probably never see him again."

She moved away from the window as she made the response, and began to sing, and Mrs. Lorton looked after her, and listened to the sweet young voice, with a smile on her weakly shrewd face.

"Eleanor has grown a great deal lately," she murmured to herself; "and I suppose some men would consider her not altogether bad-looking. I am quite certain he is a single man—he would have mentioned his wife; he couldn't have avoided it the first night I was talking to him. Three horses—yes; I suppose Eleanor really is good-looking. No one is more opposed than I am to the vulgar practice of matchmaking, which some women indulge in, but it really would be a mercy to get the girl settled. Yes; he must not think of leaving us until he is quite strong; and that won't be for some weeks, for some time, yet."

Drake went down to the stables with Dick and "looked at" the horses, every now and then casting a glance through the open door at the Seagull as it sailed across the bay.

Did he regret the woman who had jilted him? Did he wish that he were on board his yacht with his friends, with the badinage, the scandal of the women, the jests and the doubtful stories of the men? He scarcely knew; he thought that he was sorrowing for the fair woman who had deserted him; but—he was not sure. From the meadows above there came the tinkle of a sheep bell, a lowing of a cow calling to her calf; the scent of the tar from a kettle on the beach rose with sharp pungency; the haze of the summer evening was blurring the hills which half ringed the sapphire sea. There was peace at Shorne Mills—a peace which fell upon the weary man of the world. He forgot his troubles for a moment; his lost inheritance, his debts, and difficulties; forgot even Woman and all she had cost him.

Then suddenly, faintly, there came floating down to him the clear, sweet voice of Nell. What was it she was singing?

"Though years have passed, I love you yet;
Do you still remember, or do you forget?"

A great wave of bitterness swept over him, and, between his teeth, he muttered:

"They are all alike—with the face and the voice of an angel, and the heart of the Man with the Muck-rake. God save me from them from this time henceforth!"