ess and passion.

"Yes, yes," assented Lady Luce quickly. "Some one may come, and--and--we
have so much to say, haven't we, Drake?"

He drew her arm within his mechanically, as he would have drawn it if he
had been leading her to a dance, or in to dinner, and they moved beyond
Nell's hearing.

Drake bit his lip, and glanced sideways toward the house. What could she
have to say to him? and what did this sudden tenderness, this humility,
of hers mean?

Suddenly it occurred to him that she had seen his uncle, and heard of
the old man's offer. Ten thousand a year was not a large income for one
in Lady Lucille Turfleigh's position; but--well, she might have been
tempted by it. His face hardened with an expression of cold cynicism
which Nell had never seen.

"What have we to say, Luce?" he asked. "I thought you and I had
exhausted all topics of absorbing interest when we parted the other
day."

She winced, and looked up at him reproachfully.

"Oh, how cruel of you, Drake!" she murmured, "As if I hadn't suffered
enough!"

"Suffered!"

He smiled down at her, with something as nearly approaching a sneer as
Drake Selbie could bring himself to bestow upon a woman.

"Yes. Drake, did you think I was quite heartless? that--I--I--did what I
did without suffering? Ah, no, you couldn't think that; you know me too
well."

Her audacity brought a smile to his lips, and he found it difficult to
restrain a laugh of amusement. It was because he had learned to know her
so well that he himself had not suffered a pang at their broken
engagement--at least, no pang since he had learned to know and love
Nell.

Where was she? How could he get away from this woman, whose face was
upturned to him with passionate pleading on it?

"Have you seen my uncle lately?" he asked grimly, but with a kind of
suddenness.

"No," she replied, and the lie came "like truth"--so like truth that
Drake felt ashamed of his suspicion of her motive.

She had not, then, heard of his uncle's offer? Then--then why was she
moved at sight of him? Why were her eyes moist with unshed tears, the
pressure of her hand on his arm tremulous and beseeching?

"No," she said; "I--I have been scarcely anywhere. I have--not been
well. I came down here to the Chesneys' to bury myself--just to bury
myself. I have been so wretched, so miserable, Drake."

"I'm sorry," he said gravely. "But why?"

She looked up at him reproachfully.

"Don't you--know? Ah, Drake, can't