At the passionate "Nell! Nell!" at the grasp of his hand, the blood

rushed to Nell's face, and her breath came painfully. She was startled

and not a little alarmed. Why was he kneeling at her feet, why did he

call upon her name with the appeal of love, the note of entreaty, in his

voice? He was no longer Drake Vernon, but the Earl of Angleford, the

promised husband of Lady Lucille.

The color left her face, and she drew her hand from his and shrank away

from him, so that she almost leaned against the tree.

He half rose and looked at her penitently, and with something like shame

for his vehemence. Indeed, he had rushed from the lodge in search of

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her, remembering nothing, thinking of nothing, but the fact that they

were both free. But now he realized how suddenly he had come upon her,

how great a shock his passionate words, his excited manner, must have

been to her.

"Forgive me!" he said, still on one knee; "forgive me! I have frightened

you. I forgot."

Nell tried to still the throbbing of her heart, to regain composure; but

she could not speak. He rose and stood before her, his eyes fixed on

her, eloquent with love and admiration. She had never seemed more

beautiful to him than at this moment. Her face was thinner and paler

than it had been in the happy days at Shorne Mills, but it had grown in

beauty, in that spiritual loveliness which replaces in the woman that

which the girl loses. The gray eyes were pure violet now, and fuller and

deeper, as they mirrored the soul which had expanded in the bracing

atmosphere of sorrow and trial.

He had fallen in love with an innocent, unsophisticated girl; he was

still more passionately in love with her now that, a girl still in

years, she had developed into glorious, divine womanhood. His eyes

scanned her face hungrily, yet reverently, as he thought: Was it

possible that he had once kissed those beautiful lips, had once heard

them murmur "I love you?" And was it possible that he might again hear

those magic words? His soul thirsted for them. It seemed to him that if

he were to lose her now, if she were to send him away, life would not be

worth having, that nothing remained for him in the future but misery and

despair. To few men is it given to love as he loved the girl before him,

and in that moment he suffered an agony of suspense which might well

have caused the recording angel to blot out the follies of his past

life.




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