Nell sat still--very, very still. The vast room seemed to rise and sway

before her like a ship in a heavy sea; the lights danced in a mad whirl;

the music roared a chaos of sound in her ears, and a deathly feeling

crept over her.

"I will not faint--I will not faint!" she said to herself, clenching her

teeth hard, and gripping her dress with her cold hands. "It is a

mistake--a mistake. It is not Drake. I thought I saw him the other

night; it is thinking, always thinking of him, that makes me fancy any

one like him must be he! Yes; it is a mistake."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them and found

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that the room had ceased rocking, and the lights were still, she leaned

forward, calling all her courage to her aid, and looked again.

A waltz was in progress, and the rich dresses, the flashing jewels

whirled like the colored pieces of a kaleidoscope, and for a moment or

two she could not distinguish the members of the glittering crowd; but

presently she saw the tall figure again. He was dancing with Lady Luce;

they came down toward the gallery end of the room, floating with the

exquisite grace of a couple whose steps are in perfect harmony, and Nell

saw that she had made no mistake--that it was Drake indeed.

She drew a long breath, and sank back; Mrs. Hawksley leaned toward her.

"Do you feel faint, Miss Lorton? It's very hot up here. Would you like

to go down----"

"No, no!" said Nell quickly, almost anxiously. She did not want to go.

It was agony to see him dancing with this beautiful woman, whose hair

shone like gold, whose grace of form and movement were conspicuous even

among so many graceful and beautiful women; but a kind of fascination

made Nell feel as if she could not go, as if she must drain her cup of

misery to the dregs. "No, no; I am not faint--not now. It is hot, but I

am--all right."

She gazed with set face and panic-stricken eyes at the couple, as they

floated down the room again. It was Drake, but--how changed! He looked

many years older--and his face was stern and grave--sterner and graver

and sadder even than when she had first seen it that day the horse had

flung him at her feet. It had grown brighter and happier while he had

stayed at Shorne Mills--it had been transformed, indeed, for the few

short weeks he had been her lover; but the look of content, of joy in

life which it wore in her remembrance, had gone again. Had he been ill?

she wondered. Where had he been; what had he been doing?




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