Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 43

"Where is Nell, by the way?" cut in Drake, with all a lover's impatience.

d.i.c.k looked rather taken aback.

"Oh--ah--that is--I say, you know, what's this s.h.i.+ndy between you and Nell?" he said, with a somewhat uneasy grin.

"s.h.i.+ndy? What do you mean?" demanded Drake.

d.i.c.k began to look uncomfortable.

"I don't know anything about it," he said hesitatingly, "only what she told me. She was awfully upset this morning; red-eyed and white about the gills, and all I could understand was that it was 'all over' between you." He grinned again, but more uncomfortably. "Of course, I knew it was only a lovers' tiff--'make it up and kiss again,' don't you know."

His voice and the grin died away under the change in Drake's expressive countenance.

"What is the matter, anyway?" he demanded. "Is there a real quarrel?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," said Drake, speaking as a man speaks when a cold fear is beginning to creep about his heart.

"Well, I don't know myself," said d.i.c.k desperately. "Oh, I've got a letter for you somewhere--perhaps that will explain. Now, what did I do with it? Oh, I know! Wait a moment!"

He ran into the house, and Drake waited, mechanically stroking his horse's sweating neck.

d.i.c.k came out and held out a letter.

"She gave me this for you."

Drake opened the letter, and read:

"DEAR DRAKE: I may call you so for the last time. I am writing to tell you that our engagement must come to an end. I have found that I have, that we both have, made a mistake. You, who are so quick to understand, will know, even as you read this, that I have discovered all that you have kept secret from me, and that, now I know it all, it is impossible, quite impossible, that I should----" Here a line was hastily scratched through. "I want you to believe that I don't blame you in the least; it is quite impossible that I could care for you any longer, or that I could consent to remain your promised wife; indeed, I am sorry, very, very sorry, that we should have met. If I had known all that I know now, I would rather have died than have let you speak a word of love to me.

"So it is 'good-by' forever. Please do not make it harder for me by writing to me or attempting to see me--but I know that you have cared, perhaps still care enough for me not to do so. Nothing would induce me to renew our engagement, though I shall always think kindly of you, and wish you well. I return the ring you gave me. You will let me keep the silver pencil as a souvenir of one who will always remain as, but can never be more than, a friend.

"Yours, ELEANOR LORTON."

Men take the blows of Fate in various fas.h.i.+ons. Drake's way was to take his punishment with as little fuss as possible. His face went very white, and his nostrils contracted, just as they would have done if he had come an ugly cropper over a piece of timber.

"Where--where is Nell?" he asked, in so changed and strained a voice that d.i.c.k started, and gaped at him, aghast.

"She's----Didn't I tell you? Didn't she tell you? She's gone----"

"Gone!" repeated Drake dully.

"Yes; she's gone to London, to some relations of ours--that is, mamma's, you know!"

Drake didn't know where she had gone, but he thought he understood why she had gone. She meant to abide by her resolution to break with him.

Her love had changed to distrust, perhaps--G.o.d knew!--to actual dislike.

He turned to the horse and mechanically arranged the bridle.

"It--it doesn't matter," he said. "I'll take the horse down. Oh, by the way, d.i.c.k, I may have to go to London to-night."

"What, you, too!" said d.i.c.k. "I say, there's nothing serious the matter, is there? It's only a lovers' tiff, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid not," said Drake, as calmly as he could. "See here, d.i.c.k, we won't talk about it; I can't. Your--your sister has broken our engagement----Hold on! there's no use discussing it. She's quite right.

Do you hear? She's quite right," he repeated, with a sudden fierceness.

"Everything she says is right. I--I admit it. I am to blame."

"Why, that's what she said!" exclaimed the mystified and somewhat exasperated d.i.c.k.

"What she has said is true--too true," continued Drake; "and there's no more to be said. When you write--if you see her, tell her that--that--I obey her--it's the least I can do--and that I won't--won't worry her.

Her word, her wish, is law to me. And--and you may say I deserve it all.

You may say, too, that----"

He broke off, and slowly, with the heaviness of a man become suddenly tired, got on his horse.

"No; say nothing, excepting that I obey her, and that I won't worry her.

Good-by, d.i.c.k."

He held out his hand, and d.i.c.k, with an anxious face and bewildered eyes, clung to it.

"Here, I say, Drake; this is awful! You don't mean to say it's 'good-by'!

I don't understand."

"I'm afraid it is," said Drake, pulling himself together, and forcing a smile. "I'm sorry to leave you, d.i.c.k; you and I have been good friends; but--well, the best of friends must part. I shall have gone to-night. I can catch the train. Look up Bardsley & Bardsley."

With a nod--the nod which we give nowadays when we are saying farewell with a broken heart--he turned the horse down the hill and rode away.

He tossed his things into a portmanteau, got the one available trap to carry them to the station, and caught the night mail. At Salisbury he changed for Southampton, and reached that flouris.h.i.+ng port the next morning.

The sailing master of the _Seagull_ happened to be on board when the owner of that well-known yacht was rowed alongside, and he hastened to the side and touched his hat as Drake climbed the ladder.

"Did you wire, my lord?" he asked. "I haven't had anything."

"No; I came rather unexpectedly," said Drake quietly. "Is everything ready?"

"Quite, my lord, or nearly so. I think we could sail, say, in half a dozen hours."

Drake nodded.

"If my cabin is ready, I'll go below and change," he said. "We'll sail as soon as possible."

"Certainly, my lord. Where are we bound for?" asked Mr. Murphy, in as casual a manner as he could manage; for, though he was used to short notice, this, to quote his expression to the mate later on, "took the cake."

Drake looked absently at the sky line.

"Oh, the Mediterranean, I suppose," he said listlessly. He stood for a moment with his hand upon the rail of the saloon steps, and Mr. Murphy ventured to inquire:

"Quite well, I hope, my lord?" for there was a pallor on his lords.h.i.+p's face which caused the worthy skipper a vague uneasiness. He had seen his master under various and peculiar circ.u.mstances, but had never seen him look quite like this.