Drake's announcement was received with amazed silence for a moment; then Dick flung up his piece of bread behind his back, caught it dexterously, and burst out with:

"See the conquering hero comes! Hurrah! Nell—Nell! Don't run away! Wait for the congratulations of your devoted brother!"

But Nell had fled to her room, and, on pretense of chivying her, Dick discreetly withdrew, leaving Drake to the inevitable interview with Mrs. Lorton.

"I'm sure I don't know what to say," she murmured. "It is so unexpected, so quite unlooked for. It is like a bolt out of the green——" She meant blue, but had got the colors mixed. "I had no idea that you had any serious intentions!"

Then she remembered that she had to play the part of guardian, and endeavored to fill the rÔle with the dignity due to a lady of her exalted birth.

"I need not say that I—er—congratulate you, Mr. Vernon. Eleanor is a—er—dear girl; she has been the comfort and consolation of my life, and—er—the parting with her will be a great—a very great—trial. Pardon my emotion!" She snuffed into a handkerchief, and wiped her eyes with a delicate touch or two. "But I should not dream of standing in the way of her happiness. No! If she has made her heart's choice, I shall not attempt to dissuade her. And I feel that she has chosen wisely. Of course, my dear Mr. Vernon, though we have had the pleasure of your presence with us for some time, we do not—er—know——"

Drake winced slightly. Should he tell her the truth? Should he say, "My name's Drake Vernon, right enough, but I happen to be Lord Selbie?"

But he shrank from the avowal, the confession. He knew that it would call forth quite a torrent of amazement and self-satisfaction; that he would be asked why he had concealed his full name and rank—and to-night, of all nights, he felt unequal to the scene which would most certainly follow the confession.

"I will tell you all—I can," he said, with a pause before the last words which, fortunately for him, Mrs. Lorton was too excited to notice. "I'm afraid Nell hasn't made a very wise choice. I'm not worthy of her; but that goes without saying; no man alive is. But even in the usual acceptation of the term, I'm not what is called a good match."

Mrs. Lorton looked blank and rather puzzled as she thought of the diamond bracelet and the three horses.

"I—we—er—imagined that you were well off," she said.

"I've met with reverses lately," said Drake; "and I'm poorer than I was a—er—little while ago."

Mrs. Lorton drew herself up a little, and her expression grew less complaisant.

"Indeed?" she said interrogatively.

"Yes," he went on quietly. "I am quite aware that Nell deserves——Perhaps I'd better tell you the income we shall have to get along on."

He mentioned the sum which the remnant of his fortune would produce, and, though it was much smaller than Mrs. Lorton had expected, it was large enough to cause her countenance to relax something of its stiffness.

"It is not a large income," she said. "And I cannot but remember that Eleanor, though she is not a Wolfer by birth, is connected with the family; and that, if she were taken up by them, she might—one never knows what may happen under favorable circumstances. A season in London with my people——"

Drake nodded.

"I know," he said, "Nell is worthy of the best, and no doubt if she were in London I should stand a poor chance; but it's my luck that she isn't, you see. And"—his voice dropped—"and I'm conceited enough to believe that she cares for me; and I don't suppose my poverty will make any difference. Heaven knows, I wish I were rich, for her sake!"

"Well, we must make the best of it," said the good lady. "After all, money isn't everything." She spoke as if she were suffering from the burden of a million. "True hearts are more than coronets. I must write and tell my cousin, Lord Wolfer."

"I wouldn't! I mean, is it necessary—at any rate, just yet?" said Drake. It was just possible that Lord Wolfer might interest himself sufficiently to ask questions; he might, indeed, connect "Drake Vernon" with the two first names of Viscount Selbie. And Drake—well, this was the first bit of romance in his life, and he clung to it. The idea of marrying Nell, of marrying her as plain "Drake Vernon," down on his luck, was sweet to him. He could tell her after the wedding, when they were too far away to suffer from the fuss which Mrs. Lorton would inevitably make over the revelation.

"You see, we shall have to be married very quietly; and I'm thinking of spending some time abroad, on the Continent—Nell will like to see a foreign city or two—and, do you think it's worth while troubling your people?"

The "your people" flattered her, and she yielded, with a sigh.

"As you please, Mr. Vernon—but I suppose I must now call you 'Drake'?" she broke off, with a simper; "though, really, it sounds so strange, and—er—so familiar."

Drake wondered whether he ought to kiss her as he murmured assent.

"I'll do my best to make Nell happy," he said; "and you must make the best of a bad bargain, my dear Mrs. Lorton; and if you feel like being very good to me, you'll help me persuade Nell to an early marriage."

She brightened up at the word marriage, and at the prospect of playing a part in the function beloved of all women; and when Nell stole in, with pink cheeks and glowing eyes, drew the girl to her and bestowed a pecklike kiss upon her forehead.

Mrs. Lorton provided the conversation during that meal, and, while she prosed about the various marriages in the Wolfer family, Nell listened in dutiful silence, now and again flushing and thrilling as Drake's hand touched hers or his eyes sought her face.

And Dick behaved very well. He reserved his chaff for a future occasion, and only permitted himself one allusion to the state of affairs by taking Nell's hand and murmuring: "Beg pardon, Nell! Thought it was a spoon!"

As Drake walked down the hill to the Brownies' cottage his heart throbbed with the first pure happiness of his life. Nell's kiss, which she had given him at parting at the gate, glowed warm upon his lips. And if his happiness was alloyed by the reflection that he was deceiving her in the matter of his rank, he thrust it from him.

After all, what did it matter? What would she care? It was he, the man, not the viscount, whom she loved. Yes, the gods had been good to him, notwithstanding the ruin of his prospects; for was he not loved for himself alone?

He smiled, with a sense of the irony of circumstances, when he remembered that only a few weeks ago he had congratulated himself that he had "done with women!" But at that time he had not fallen in love with Nell of Shorne Mills, and won her love; which made all the difference!

And Nell? She lay awake in a sleepless dream. Every word he had spoken came back to her like the haunting refrain of a beautiful song; the expression in his eyes, the touch of his hand—ah! and more, the kiss of his lips—were with her still. It was her first love. No man before Drake had ever spoken of love to her; it was her virgin heart which he had won; and when this is the case the man assumes the proportions of a god to the girl.

And it seemed so wonderful, so incredible, that he should have fallen in love with her, that he should have chosen her; as his queen, as his wife. She tried to draw a mental picture of herself, to account for his preference for her, and failed to find any reason for it. He had said that she was—beautiful. Oh, no—no! He must have met a hundred women prettier than she was; but he had chosen her. How strange! how wonderful! Sleep came to her at last, but it was a sleep broken by dreams—dreams in which Drake—she could think of him as "Drake"—held her in his arms and murmured his love. She could feel his kisses on her lips, her hair. Once the dream turned and twisted somewhat, and he and she seemed separated—a vague something came between them, an intangible mist or cloud which neither could pass, though they stood with outstretched hands and yearning hearts; but this dream passed, and she slept the sleep of joy and peaceful happiness.

Happiness! It is given to so few to know happiness that one would like to linger over the days which followed their betrothal. For every day was an idyl. Drake had resolved to send the horses up to London for sale; he had given Sparling notice, six months' wages, and a character which would insure him a good place; but he clung to the horses, and Nell and Dick and he had some famous rides before the nags went to Tattersall's.

And what rides they were! Dick, wise beyond his years, would lag behind or canter a long way in front; and Nell and Drake would be left alone to whisper together, or clasp hands in silent ecstasy.

And there was the Annie Laurie. To sail before the wind, with the sun shining brightly from the blue sky upon the opal sea; to hold his beloved in his arms; to feel the warmth of her lips on his; to know that in a few short weeks she would be his own, his wife!—the rapture of it made him catch his breath and fall into a rapt silence.

One day, as they were sailing homeward, the Annie Laurie speeding on a flowing tide and a favorable breeze, his longing became almost insupportable.

"See here, Nell," he said, with the timidity of the man whose every pulse is throbbing with passion, "why—why shouldn't we be married at once? I mean, what is the use of waiting?"

"Married!"

She drew away from him and caught her breath.

"Why not?" he asked. "I shan't be any the richer for waiting, and—and I want you very badly."

"But I am here—you have got me," she said, with all the innocence of a child. "Oh, why should we hurry?"

He bit his pipe hard.

"I know," he said, rather huskily. "But I want you altogether—for my very own. I don't want to have to part with you at the gate of The Cottage. You don't understand; but I don't want you to. But, Nell, as we are going to be married, we might as well be married now as months hence."

Her head sank lower; the Annie Laurie lost the wind, and fell off and rolled on the ground swell.

"Do you—want to marry me—so soon?" she murmured.

"So soon!" he echoed. "Why, it is months—weeks—since we were engaged."

"But—but—aren't you happy—content?" she asked. "I—I am so happy. I know that you love me; that is happiness enough."

He drew her to him and kissed her with a reverence which he thought no woman would have received from him.

"No; it is not enough, dearest," he said. "You don't understand. I'll put the banns up to-morrow—no; I'll get a special license. I want you for my own, all my own, Nell."

When they sailed into the slip by the jetty, Dick was waiting for them.

"Hal-lo!" he yelled. "I've been waiting for you for the last two hours. I've news for you."

"News?" said Drake.

Nell was coiling the sheet in a methodical fashion, and thinking of Drake's words.

"Yes. The Maltbys are going to give a dance, and you and I and Nell are asked."

"And who are the Maltbys?" he inquired, with a lack of interest which nettled Dick.

"The Maltbys are our salt of the earth," he replied; "they are our especial 'local gentry'; and, let me tell you, an invitation from them is not to be sneezed at."

"I didn't sneeze," said Drake, clasping Nell's hand as he helped her out of the boat.

"It's for the fifth," said Dick; "and it's sure to be a good dance; better still, it's sure to be a good supper. Now, look here, don't you two spoons say you 'don't care about it,' for, I've set my mind upon going."

Drake laughed easily.

"Would you like to go?" he asked of Nell.

"Would you?" she returned.

Loverlike, he thought of a dance with her. She was, her girlish innocence, so sparing of her caresses, that the prospect of holding her in his arms during a waltz set him aching with longing.

"Yes," he said, "if you like."

"All right," she said. "Yes, I should think we might go, Dick."

"I should think so!" he shouted. "Fancy chucking away the chance of a dance!"

"How did they come to ask us?" Nell inquired. "We don't know them very well," she explained to Drake. "The Maltbys are quite grand folk compared with us; and, though Lady Maltby calls once in a blue moon, and sends us cards for a garden party now and again, this is the first time we have been invited to a dance."

"You have to thank me, young people," said Dick, with exaggerated self-satisfaction. "I happened to meet young Maltby—he's home for a spell; fancy he's sent down from Oxford—and he asked me to go rabbiting with him. He's not much of a shot, though he is a baronet's son and heir, and I rather think I put him up to a wrinkle or two. Anyway, the other day he mentioned that they were going to have a dance—quite an informal affair—and asked if I'd care to go; and Lady Maltby's just sent a note."

"All right," said Drake.

Then he suddenly remembered his masquerade, and looked grave and thoughtful. Yes, it was just possible that some one there might recognize him.

"Who are the Maltbys?" he asked. "I never heard of them."

Dick's eyes twinkled.

"I can't truthfully say that that argues you unknown," he said; "for they are very quiet people, and only famous in their own straw yard. Old Sir William hates London, and he and Lady Maltby seldom leave the Grange."

"There is no daughter, only this one son," explained Nell. "They are not at all 'grand,' and I think you will like them. Lady Maltby is always very kind, and Sir William is a dear old man, who loves to talk about his prize cattle."

"Do you happen to know who is staying at the house?" asked Drake.

After all, perhaps, he would run no risk of detection; as he had never met the Maltbys, it was highly improbable that they had heard of him.

"Oh, it's not a large party. I remember some of the names, because young Maltby ran over them. He said there weren't enough in the house to make up a dance. I shrewdly conjectured that that's one reason why we were asked."

"Wise but ungrateful youth!" said Drake. "Let us hear the names."

Dick repeated all that he could remember.

"Know any of them?" he asked.

"No," replied Drake, with relief.

"The fifth," mused Nell, thinking of her dress. "It is very short notice."

"It's only a scratch affair; but, all the same, I should wear my white satin with Brussels lace, and put on my suite of diamonds and rubies, if I were you," advised Dick.

Nell laughed, as she glanced up at Drake.

"I am just wondering whether I have outgrown my nun's veiling," she said simply. "It's the only dress I have. I'm afraid"—she hesitated—"I'm afraid you will think it a very poor one!"

"Are you?" he said significantly. "You never can tell. Perhaps I shall admire it."

As he spoke he asked himself whether he should send up to Bond Street for some jewels for her; but he resisted the temptation. Later on, when they were married, he would give himself the treat of buying her some of the things women loved. Even in the matter of the engagement ring he had held himself in check, and only a very simple affair encircled the third finger of Nell's left hand.

They found Mrs. Lorton in a flutter of excitement, and she handed Drake the note of invitation with the air of an empress conferring a patent of nobility.

"Very good people," she said; "though not, of course, the crÈme de la crÈme. I am included in the invitation, but I shall not accept. The scene would but recall others of a more brilliant description in which I once moved—er—not the least of the glittering throng. No, Eleanor, you will not need a chaperon. You have Drake, who, I trust, will enjoy himself in what may be novel circumstances," she added, with affable patronage.

"You will not need a new dress, Eleanor—Dick tells me that he must have a new suit."

"Oh, no; I am all right!" said Nell cheerfully.

She found that the old frock could, with a little alteration, be utilized, and for several evenings Drake sat and watched her as she lengthened the skirt and bestowed new lace and ribbons upon the thing, and, as he smoked, imagined how she would look on the night of the dance. He knew that not one of the other women, let them be arrayed in all the glory of the Queen of Sheba herself, would outshine his star.