s suddenly from it, leaving it stone white.

"Drake--Mr. Vernon?" she said, almost inaudibly. "I--I do not know. I--I
have not seen--heard."

"No? That's rum! I should have thought that tiff was over by this time.
Can't make it out! What have you been doing, Miss Lorton?"

Nell bravely tried to smile.

"You--you have seen him? You never wrote and told me, Dick! You--you
gave him my note?"

Dick nodded rather gravely.

"Yes."

"And--and----" She could not speak.

"Oh, yes; I gave it him, and he said----Well, he looked broken up over
it; quite broken up. He said--let me see; I didn't pay very much
attention because I thought he'd write to you and see you. They
generally wind up that way, after a quarrel, don't they?"

"It does not matter. No, I have not seen or heard," said Nell.

"Well, he said: 'Tell her that it's quite true.' Dashed if I know what
he meant! And that he wouldn't worry you, but would obey you and not
write or see you. I think that was all."

It was enough. If the faintest spark of hope had been left to glow in
Nell's bosom, Drake's message extinguished it.

Her head dropped for a moment, then she looked up bravely.

"It was what I expected, Dick. It--was like him. No, no; don't speak;
don't say any more about it. And you'll stay, Dick? Lady Wolfer will be
glad to see you. They are all so kind to me, and----"

"I'm so glad to hear that," said Dick; "because if they hadn't been I
should have insisted upon your going home. But I suppose they really are
kind, and don't starve you, though you are so thin."

"It's the London air, or want of air," said Nell. "And mamma, does
she"--she faltered wistfully--"miss me?"

"We all miss you--especially the butcher and the baker," replied Dick
diplomatically. "And now I'm off. And, Nell--oh, do mind my hat!--if you
know Drake's address, I should like to write to him."

She shook her head.

"Strange," said Dick. "I wrote to the address in London to which I
posted the letters when he was ill, and it came back 'Not known.' I--I
think he must have gone abroad. Well, there, I won't say any more;
but--'he was werry good to me,' as poor Joe says in the novel, you know,
Nell."

Yes, it was well for Nell that she had no time to dwell upon her heart's
loss; and yet she found some minutes for that "Sorrow's crown of
sorrow," the remembrance of happier days, as she leaned over her black
lace bodice that night when the great house was silent, and the quiet
r