window.

Lady Chesney looked at her, then laughed.

"My dear, you look transformed. Was that--but of course it was! Well?
But one need not ask any questions. Your face tells its own tale."

Luce laughed, and touched her lips with her handkerchief.

"Yes, it was Drake," she said. "What luck! what luck! And they say there
is no Providence!"

"And--and it is all right?" asked Lady Chesney, anxiously.

Lady Luce laughed softly.

"Oh, yes! Didn't I tell you that if I could have him to myself for ten
minutes----And we have been longer, haven't we? You see, he was fond of
me, and----Oh! have you brought a cigarette? I am simply dying for one
now!"

Lady Chesney held one out to her.

"Here it is. But hadn't you better go in? They will miss you----"

Lady Luce shrugged her shoulders as she struck a match from the gold box
Drake had given her.

"What does it matter what these people think?" she retorted. "Nothing
matters now. I have got Drake back, and----All the same, we will get out
of sight of the window, lest we shock these simple folk. Yes, I am a
lucky young woman."

They passed along the terrace, and Nell, as if released from a spell,
fell into the seat and covered her face with her hands.

CHAPTER XVII.

Presently she let them fall slowly and looked vacantly with her brows
drawn--as if waiting for the return of some sharp pain--in the direction
of Shorne Mills. The lights had gone out; so also had died the light of
her young life.

She tried to realize what this was that had happened to her; but it was
so difficult--so difficult! Only a little while ago she had been happy
in the possession of Drake's love. He had been hers--was her sweetheart,
her very own; he was to have been her husband; she was to have been his
wife.

And now--what had happened? Was she dead--had she done some evil thing
which had turned his love for her to hate and driven him from her?

Slowly the numbed sensation, the feeling of stupor passed, and the
truth, as she thought of it, came upon her with a rush and made her
press her hand to her heart as if a knife had stabbed it.

Drake loved her no longer. He had never loved her. The woman he had
loved was the most beautiful of God's creatures, and Drake had only
turned to her--Nell--in a moment of pique. And this woman with the
perfect face, and soft, lingering voice; this woman whose every movement
was grace itself, who carried herself like an empress--an empress in the