Now, while all Anglemere talked of its lord and master, it had no suspicion that he was near at hand.

Two days before Nell and Dick had arrived at the lodge, the Seagull sailed, with all the grace and ease of its namesake, into Southampton water, with my Lord of Angleford on board.

Drake leaned against the rail and looked with grave face and preoccupied air at his native land. Two years had passed since he had last seen it, and they had scored their log upon his face. It was handsome still, but the temples were flecked with gray, and there were certain lines on the forehead and about the mouth which are graven by other hands than Time's.

It was the face of one who lived in the past, and could find no pleasure in the present; and the expression in his eyes was that of the man to whom the gods have given everything but the one thing his heart desired.

As he leaned against the side, with his hands in his pockets, his yacht cap tilted over his eyes, he pondered on the vanity of human wishes.

Here he was, the Earl of Anglemere, owner of an historic title, the master of all the Angleford estates and wealth. Almost every man who heard his name envied him—some doubtless hated him—because of his wealth and rank. And yet he would have given it all if by so doing he could have been the "Drake Vernon" who had been loved by a certain Nell Lorton; and as he looked at the blue water, rippling in the sunlight round the stately yacht, his thoughts went back sadly to the Annie Laurie and its girl owner, and he sighed heavily.

He had intended to be absent from England for some years—perhaps forever, and even when the cable informing him of his uncle's death and his own succession to the title had reached him, he had clung to his resolution of remaining abroad, for when the news got to him his uncle had been long buried, and there seemed to him no need of his return. It was easier to forget, or to persuade himself that he forgot, Nell, while he was sailing from port to port, or shooting big game in the wild and desolate places of the earth, than it would be in England. If Nell had still been pledged to him, how differently he would have received this gift which the gods had bestowed on him! To have been able to go to her and say: "Nell, you will be the Countess of Angleford; take my hand, and let me show you the inheritance you will share with me!" That would have been a happiness which would have doubled and trebled the value of his title and estates. But now! Nell was no longer his; he had lost her, and, having lost her, all the good things which had fallen to him were of as little value as a Rubens to the blind, or a nocturne of Chopin to the deaf.

When the lawyers worried him he sent curt and evasive replies, telling them in so many words to do the best they could without him, and when Lady Angleford wrote, begging him to return and take up his duties, he answered with condolences on her loss, and vague assurances that he would be back—some time. Then she wrote again; the kind of letter a clever woman can write; the letter which, for all its gentleness, stings and irritates:

"Much as you may dislike it, much as it may interfere with your love of wandering, the fact remains that you are the Earl of Angleford, my dear Drake. And the Earl of Angleford has higher duties than ordinary men. The lawyers want you, the estate want you, the people—do you think they do not want you? And, most of all, I think, I want you. Do you remember our first meeting? It was thought that I had come between you and yours; but the fact that I have not done so, the consolation I find in the thought, is made of no avail by your absence. You are too good a fellow to inflict pain upon a lonely and sorrow-stricken woman, Drake. Come back and take your place among your peers and your people. Sometimes I think there must be some reason, some mysterious cause, for your prolonged absence, your reluctance to take up the duties and responsibilities of the position which has fallen to you; but if there should be, I beg of you to forget it, to set it aside. You are, you cannot help being, the Earl of Angleford. Come and play your part like a man."

It was the kind of letter which few men, certainly not Drake, could resist. Wondering bitterly whether she guessed at the reason, the cause of his reluctance to return to England, to take up the purple and ermine which had fallen from her husband's shoulders, he wrote a short note saying that he would "come back." In a second letter he asked her to get Angleford ready for him, not dreaming that she would take his request as a carte blanche, and turn the old place inside out and make it fit, as she considered fitness, for its new lord and master.

As the Seagull glided to her moorings, his expression grew harder and sterner. He was a man of the world, and he knew what would be expected of him. An earl, the owner of an historic title and vast estates, has a paramount duty—that of providing an heir to his title and lands.

Now that he had come back, he would be expected, would be hustled and goaded into marrying. Marrying! He swore under his breath, and began to pace up and down restlessly, so that Mr. Murphy, the yacht's master, thinking that his lordship was in a hurry to land, bustled the crew a bit. But when the dingy was lowered and the man-o'-warlike sailors were in their places, their lord and master lingered, for he was loath to leave the Seagull. How many nights had he paced her deck, thinking of Nell, calling up the vision of the clear, oval face, the soft, dark hair, the eyes that had grown violet-hued as they turned lovingly to him. That vision had sailed with him through many a stormy and sunlit sea, and he was loath to part with it. On shore, there he would have to plunge into his "duties," would have to sign leases, and read deeds, and listen to stewards and agents. There would be little time to think, to dream of Nell.

The dinghy took him ashore, and he put up at the large and crowded hotel, and spent the evening wishing that he was on the Seagull. The next day it occurred to him that he was within a ride of Anglemere, and he procured a horse and rode out to it. He had very little desire to see the chief of his "places," and when he had ridden up to the terrace he turned his horse down a side road and regained his hotel, little thinking that he had passed the window of Nell's room, that her eyes had rested upon him.

The sight of the old place had awakened memories which saddened him. He had played on that terrace, on the lawn beneath, when a boy. Even as a boy he had learned to regard Anglemere as his future home; and he had been, in a childish way, proud of the fact. It was his now—and what little pride and pleasure could be found in its possession! If Nell——With something like an oath he dragged himself up the grandiose stairs of the hotel, and went to bed.

In the morning the mate of the yacht brought him a letter from Lady Angleford. It said that she had heard that he had arrived at Southampton, and that she hoped he would go on to Anglemere and see and approve of the alterations and improvements she was attempting, and that he would "go into residence" in three weeks' time, as she had asked a housewarming party to welcome him.

Drake stared at the letter moodily, and wished himself among the big game in Africa, or salmon fishing in Norway; but he felt that Lady Angleford was trying to do her duty by him, and knew that he ought to follow suit.

He gravitated between the hotel and his yacht for a few days, his face growing sterner and more moody each day, then he rode out to Anglemere again.

It was a lovely afternoon, and, if he had not been haunted by the vision of Nell, Drake would have reveled in the blue sky, the soft breeze, the singing of the birds, and the scent of the flowers; but all these recalled Nell and Shorne Mills, and only made the aching of his heart more acute.

He wondered, as he rode along the well-kept roads, whether she was still at Shorne Mills; whether she had forgotten him, whether she was married. At the last thought, the blood rushed to his head, and he jerked the reins so that the good horse broke into a gallop which carried Drake to the southern lodge, where—if he could but have known it!—dwelt Nell herself!

The gates were open, and he rode through; but as he passed the lodge, the sound of a violin played by a master hand smote upon his ear. He pulled the horse into a walk, and approached the house in a dream.

Workmen were all over the place, and he stared about him like a stranger; and they eyed him with half-indifferent, half-curious scrutiny. He got off his horse and walked up the stone steps of the terrace into the hall. Here the foreman of the firm of decorators approached him.

"Do you want to see any one, sir?" he asked.

"No," said Drake diplomatically. He was reluctant to announce himself. "You are making some alterations?" he said.

"Rather, sir," assented the foreman, with a self-satisfied smile. "We're just turning the old place inside out. For the new lord, you know."

"I see," said Drake.

He knew that he ought to have said: "I am the new lord—I am Lord Angleford." But he shrank from it. The whole thing, the transformation of the old place, though he knew it was necessary, was distasteful to him.

"What is that?" and he nodded toward a cluster of small globes in the center of the hall.

"Oh, that! That's the electric light," said the man. "There's going to be electric lights all over the house. Wait a minute, and I'll turn some of it on; though perhaps I'd better not, for the gentleman who manages it is away to-day. He's gone to Southampton to see after some things which ought to have come this morning."

"Don't trouble," said Drake absently.

"Well, perhaps I'd better not," said the man. "He mightn't like it. He's the gent that lives in the lodge."

"In the lodge!" said Drake. "The south lodge?"

The man nodded.

"He plays the violin?" said Drake.

The man grinned.

"No, no! That's his friend. He's a musician—the gentleman his sister is engaged to."

Drake got on his horse and rode away, leaving the park by the east lodge.

The three weeks slipped away, and the day for the great gathering at Anglemere was near at hand. By dint of working day and night, the contractors had succeeded in getting the house finished in time; and Lady Angleford, who had come down, with an army of servants, at the week's end, expressed her approval and her astonishment that so much should have been effected in so short a time.

The lord and master was not to arrive until the evening of the twenty-first, the date of the ball, and most of the house party had reached Anglemere before him. He had pleaded urgent business as an excuse for not putting in an appearance earlier; but, beyond seeing his lawyers and listening to their complaints at his absence, he had done very little business, and had been cruising in the Solent to while away the interval.

The villagers wanted to "receive" him at the station, and talked of a "welcome" arch; but no one could find out at what hour to expect him; and Lady Angleford, who, with native quickness, had learned a great deal of his character in her short acquaintance with him, and was quite aware that he disliked fuss of any kind, had discouraged the idea.

The dogcart was sent to the station to meet the six-o'clock train, on chance, and he arrived by it, and was driven home, cheered by a few groups of the villagers who had hung about in the hope of seeing him.

Lady Angleford met him in the hall, and they went at once to the library.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that you have come, Drake—I suppose I may call you Drake?" she said, holding out her hand again to him.

"You shall call me by any name that pleases you," he said, smiling at her, and speaking very gently, for she was still in mourning, and looked very fragile and petite.

"Thanks. And yet I am not a little nervous. I don't know how you'll quite take the alterations I have made, whether you will think I have been too presumptuous. I shall watch your face with an anxious eye when I take you over the place presently."

"My only feeling is one of intense gratitude," he said; "and I can't express my thanks and surprise that you should have taken so much trouble. I had an idea that the place was all right, that what was good enough for my uncle——"

She winced slightly, but smiled bravely.

"No, Drake; he was an old man, and came here but seldom; you are young, and, I hope, will spend a great deal of time here. After all, it is your real English home."

He nodded, but not very assentingly.

"I don't know," he said, rather moodily. "I am rather a restless mortal, and find it difficult to settle in any one place."

"Have you been well?" she asked, as she saw his face plainly, for he had turned to the window.

"Oh, yes; quite," he replied.

She looked at him rather doubtfully.

"You are thinner, and——"

"Older," he said, with a smile.

"I was not going to say that; but I was going to say that you looked as if you had not been sparing yourself lately."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I had rather a rough time of it in Africa—and a touch of fever. It always leaves its mark, you know."

She nodded as if she accepted the explanation; but she was not satisfied. A touch of fever does not leave behind the expression of weariness which brooded in his eyes.

"If you are not too tired, will you come round with me?" she said. "There's an opportunity now, for all the people are out riding or driving, and we shall be more free than we shall be when they come bustling in."

"Certainly," he said, opening the door for her. "I suppose you have filled the house? Is it a large party?"

"I am afraid it is," she said, apologetically; "but the house is not quite full, for some of the people who are coming to the dance to-morrow will have to stay the night. By the way, I asked you if there was any one to whom you would like me to send a card, but you did not reply."

"Didn't I? I humbly beg your pardon, countess! No, there was no one."

He looked round the hall admiringly.

"You have done wonders!" he said; "and in such a short time! I rode over here from the hotel the other day, and imagined they would take at least a month to finish. And is that the old drawing-room? Can it be possible! It is charming! Ah, you have left the dining room untouched—that's right."

Lady Angleford laughed.

"There is not an inch of it that has not been touched; but with reverent hands, I hope. It is upstairs that we have done most. The bedrooms, you will admit, wanted thorough renovating."

"Yes, yes," he said, as he walked beside her. "It's all perfect. It must have cost a great deal of money."

She nodded.

"Oh, yes; but it does not matter, you know."

He glanced at her questioningly.

"It really does not," she said. "Have you any idea how rich you are, Drake?"

He shook his head.

"I'm ashamed to say that I don't quite know how I stand. The lawyers jawed about it the other day, and I did fully manage to understand that my uncle had left me everything. Was that fair, countess?" he added gravely.

"Yes," she replied simply. "He wanted to leave me all he could; but I would not let him. You know that I have enough, and much more than enough, of my own. So why should he leave me any more?"

Drake took her hand, and kissed it gratefully.

"You have been very good to me," he said, in a low voice. "Better than I have any right to expect, or deserve."

"No," she said. "And there is no need of gratitude. I wanted to atone——No, that's not the right word. I wanted to make up to you for the trouble I had, all unconsciously, caused between you and him. And—there was another reason, Drake. Don't get conceited; but I took a fancy to my nephew the first time I saw him." She laughed softly. "And just at present I have no other object in life than the attempt to make him happy."

Drake suppressed a sigh.

Happy? Oh, Nell, Nell! How vain and foolish all this splendor, now he had lost her!

"So you turned my rambling old place into a palace? Well, it was a substantial attempt, and if I am not happy, I shall be the most mulish and ungrateful of men. The place is perfect; it lacks nothing, I should say," he added, as they descended to the hall again.

"Only a mistress," thought Lady Angleford; but she was too wise to say so.

"You haven't told me who is here," he said, as he watched her pour out the tea which had been laid in a windowed recess from which was an exquisite view of the lawns and the park beyond.

"Oh, a host of your friends," she said. "Do you like sugar, Drake? Fancy an aunt having to ask her nephew that! I shall get used to all your fads and fancies presently. There are the Northgates, and the Beeches, and old Lord Balfreed"—she ran through the list, and he listened absently until she came to—"and the Turfleighs."

"The Turfleighs?" he said, with something that was almost a frown; and, seeing it, the countess noticed how stern his face had become.

"Yes. Lady Luce and her father will arrive to-morrow, just in time for the dance. They are staying at a place near here—the Wolfers'. You remember them? They are coming with her, of course."

"Quite a gathering of the clans," he said, as brightly as he could. "It is a long time since Anglemere had such a beau fÊte. Who is that?" he broke off to inquire. "One of the guests?"

Lady Angleford looked out of the window.

"I am so near-sighted——"

"A tall, thin man, with long hair," he said. "He has just gone round the corner toward the lodge."

"That must be the man who is staying at the south lodge," she said. "His name is Falconer, and he is a musician."

"A musician staying at the south lodge?" said Drake, with surprise. "Ah, yes! I remember hearing the violin, as I passed the other day."

"Yes," said Lady Angleford. "The young fellow the engineers sent down is staying at the lodge with his sister and their friend, this Mr. Falconer. They were to have gone yesterday, when the work was completed; but I thought they had better stay a few days, until after the dance, at any rate, in case anything should go wrong with the electric light. It is such a nuisance if they happen to pop out all of a sudden; and they generally do when there is something on. You don't mind their being here?"

He smiled.

"Why should I? It was a good idea to keep him. I suppose there is to be a resident engineer?"

"Yes; I suppose so. It would not be a bad idea to keep this young fellow, for I'm told that he has done the work very well. I've not seen him or his sister. I hear that she is an extremely pretty girl, and very ladylike, and I meant calling at the lodge and asking if they were comfortable; but I have been so busy."

"I can quite understand that," he said. "I only hope you will not have tired yourself out for to-morrow night."

She laughed.

"I am not easily tired; and I'm tough, though I'm small," she retorted, with her pretty twang. "By the way, speaking of to-morrow night. I wonder whether this Mr. Falconer would come up and play——"

She hesitated, and looked at him doubtfully.

Drake smiled.

"You think he may be some swell musician?" he said. "Too swell to play for money? It's likely."

"No, it wasn't that; I was thinking that I could scarcely ask him without asking the girl. He's engaged to her, I'm told."

"That's one of those problems which a man is quite unqualified to solve," he said indifferently.

"Well, I'll ask them, and chance it. Oh, here are some of the carriages. Would you like to run away, or will you——"

But he went to the front to meet and greet his guests.

A couple of hours later, while the trio at the lodge were at supper, the servant brought in two notes.

"One for me, and one for you, Mr. Falconer. And from the house! Do you see the coronet on the envelope? I wonder what it is? Perhaps a polite intimation that we are to clear out!" said Nell.

"Or an equally polite request that we will keep off the grass," said Dick. "Do you know how to find out what's in that envelope, Nell?"

"No," she said, holding it up to the light.

"By opening it, my brainless one!"

"Mr. Falconer, you are nearer him than I am; will you oblige me by kicking him? Oh, Dick! It's an invitation to the dance to-morrow—for you and me."

"And for me," said Falconer. "And will I be so very kind as to bring my violin?"

"Very kind of 'em," said Dick. "I should like it very much," as he lifted his tankard, "but there won't be any dancing for me to-morrow night, unless I indulge in a hornpipe in the engine room. I'm going to stick there on guard right away from the beginning to the end of the hop. I should never forgive myself if anything went wrong with those blessed lights. But you and Falconer can go and foot it to your heart's content."

"Quite impossible," said Nell emphatically. "I haven't a dress. So that settles me. Besides, Mrs. Hawksley, the housekeeper, has been kind enough to ask me to go into the gallery and look on, and I accepted gratefully."

"Among the servants?" said Dick, rather dubiously.

"Why not?" said Nell, stoutly. "I don't in the least mind. I shall enjoy looking down—for the first time in my life—upon Mr. Falconer."

Falconer smiled and shook his head.

"I haven't a dress suit, and I can't dance, Miss Lorton; and if I had and could, I shouldn't go without you. But I'd like to go and play. I owe these people a heavy debt for permitting me, through you, to spend the happiest days of my life—yes, I'll go and play. They won't mind my old velvet jacket, I'm sure."

"Quite the correct thing, my boy," said Dick. "You look no end of a musical swell in it; a Paderewski and Sarasati rolled into one. And to tell you the truth, I'm relieved to think you're disposed of; for I was afraid you'd offer to keep me company in the engine room; and the last time you were there you very nearly got mixed up with the engines and turned into sausage meat."

Nell was looking at her envelope.

"Lady Angleford addresses me as Miss 'Norton,'" she said, with a smile. "I wonder if she would know me if she saw me. Very likely not."

"The right honorable the earl arrived this afternoon, I'm told," said Dick. "'I very nearly missed missing him,' as the Irishman said. He'd gone into the house just before I came out. There's to be a fine kick-up to-morrow night. Not sure that I shan't come up to the gallery for a minute or two, after all; only the conviction that the beastly lights will know that I am gone and all go out, will prevent me."

On the following evening Dick and Falconer went up to the house before Nell, Dick wanting to be present at the lighting up, and Falconer being desirous of ascertaining exactly where he "came in" with his violin; and Nell, having donned her best dress, went round to the housekeeper's room. She had found Mrs. Hawksley "partaking" of a cup of tea, in which Nell was easily induced to join, and Mrs. Hawksley chatted in the stately way which thinly hid a wealth of motherly kindness.

"I am so glad you have come, Miss Lorton; for it will be a grand sight, the like of which you have probably not seen, and may not see again."

And Nell nodded, suppressing a smile as she thought of her short sojourn in the world of fashion.

"Some of the dresses, the maids tell me, are magnificent; and the jewels! But, there; none of them can be finer than the Angleford diamonds. I do hope the countess will wear them, though it's doubtful, seeing that her ladyship's still in mourning. You say you've seen the countess, Miss Lorton? A sweet-looking lady. It's quite touching to see her ladyship and his lordship together, she so young, and his aunt, too! You haven't seen the earl yet, have you?"

"No; tell me what he is like, Mrs. Hawksley," said Nell, knowing how delighted the old lady would be to comply.

"Well, Miss Lorton, though I suppose I shouldn't, seeing he kind of belongs to us, I must say that his lordship will be the handsomest and finest gentleman in the room to-night, let who will be coming. Not but what he's changed. It gave me quite a turn—as the maids say," she picked herself up apologetically—"when he came right into this very room, with his hand stretched out, and his 'Well, Mrs. Hawksley, and how are you, after this long time?'"

"Because he was so friendly?" asked Nell innocently.

The old lady drew herself up.

"No, Miss Lorton. The Anglefords were always friendly to their old servants, because they know that we shouldn't take advantage of it and forget our proper places. No, but because he was so changed. He used to be so bright and—and boyish, as one may say, with all respect; but now he's as grave as grave can be—almost stern-looking, so to speak—and there's gray hairs at his temples, and he's a way of looking beyond you in a sad sort of fashion. His lordship's had some trouble, I know. I said so to his man, but he wouldn't say anything. He hasn't been with the earl for some time, and mightn't know——There's the music; and, hark; I can hear them moving into the ballroom. We'd better be going up to the gallery; and I do hope you will enjoy yourself, Miss Lorton."

Nell followed the old lady into the small gallery, where some chairs had been placed for the servants, behind the musicians. She saw Falconer in front, his whole soul absorbed in his business; but he turned his eyes as she entered, and smiled for a moment.

"Can you see?" asked Mrs. Hawksley. "Go a little nearer to the front. Make room for Miss Lorton, please."

Nell shook her head.

"I can see very well," she said, also in a whisper, for she did not want to be seen.

She craned forward and looked down on the brilliant, glittering crowd. The lights of which Dick was so proud dazzled her for a moment or two; but presently her eyes became accustomed to them, and she recognized Lady Angleford, the Wolfers, and others. Lady Angleford was in black satin and lace, and, at Drake's request, had put on the family diamonds.

"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."