Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 51

Nell knit her brows and made another call on her memory.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, in a tone of triumph, which rather surprised Sir Charles. "I remember reading about it. Lord Selbie! Yes--oh, yes; I recollect."

Her voice grew sad and absent, as she recalled the afternoon when Mrs.

Lorton had insisted upon her reading the stupid society paper to Drake.

How long ago it seemed! How unreal!

"I dare say," said Sir Charles. "It's one of those things which the world chatters about, and the newspapers paragraph. Poor Selbie!"

"Was he a very great friend of yours?" asked Nell, rather mechanically, her eyes wandering from one face to another.

"Yes, very great," replied the undersecretary, with a warmth which one does not look for in a professional politician. "We were at Eton together, and we saw a great deal of each other afterward, though he went into the army, and I, for my sins, fell into politics. He is one of the best of fellows, an Admirable Crichton, at once the envy and the despair of his companions. There is scarcely anything that Selbie doesn't do, and he does all things well--the best shot, the best rider, the best fencer, the best dancer of his set, and the best-hearted. Poor old chap!"

It was evident that he had, in his enthusiasm, almost forgotten his auditor.

"Where is he now?" asked Nell. "I heard Lady Angleford say that he is abroad."

"Yes. No one knows where he is. He has disappeared. It sounds a strong word, but it is the only one that will meet the case. And perhaps it was the best thing he could do. When a man's prospects are blighted, and his ladylove has jilted him----"

Nell turned quickly. She had tried to remember the whole of the paragraph she had read to Drake, but she could not.

"What was the name of the lady who--who jilted him?" she asked.

Sir Charles was about to reply, and if he had spoken, Nell would have learned Drake's ident.i.ty; but at that moment there came a lull in the conversation, and before it had recommenced, the prime minister leaned forward and asked a question of his friend. The answer led to a general discussion, and at its close Lady Wolfer smiled and raised her eyebrows at the d.u.c.h.ess, received a responsive nod, and the ladies rose.

Sir Archie was the gentleman nearest the door, and he opened it for them. As Lady Wolfer was pa.s.sing through, a flower fell from the bosom of her dress. He picked it up and held it out to her, with a bow and a smile; but she had turned to say something to the lady behind her, and he drew his hand back and concealed the flower in it.

Nell, who chanced to be looking at him, was, perhaps, the only one who saw the action, and she thought little of it. He could scarcely interrupt Lady Wolfer by a too-insistent restoration of the blossom.

With the flower in his hand, Sir Archie went back to the table. The other men had closed up near the earl, but Sir Archie retained his seat.

He allowed the butler to fill his gla.s.s and raised it to his lips with his right hand; then, after a moment or two, he took the flower from his left and fixed it in the b.u.t.tonhole of his coat.

It was a daring thing to do; but he had been--well, not too sparing of the wine, and his usually pale and impa.s.sive face was flushed, and indicative of a kind of suppressed excitement.

Perhaps he thought that no one would recognize the flower, and probably no one did--no one, that is, but the earl. His eyes, as they glanced down the row of men, saw the blossom in its conspicuous place in Sir Archie's coat, and the earl's face went white, and his thin lips twitched.

"Have you any wine, Walbrooke?" he asked.

The butler had left the room.

Sir Archie started, as if his thoughts had been wandering.

"Eh? Oh--ah! thanks!" he said.

He took the decanter from the man next him, and filled his gla.s.s. The earl's eyes rested grimly upon the flower for a moment, then, as if with an effort, he turned to Mr. Gresham and got into talk with him. No man in the whole world was more ready to talk than the prime minister. The other men joined in the conversation, which was anything but political--all but Sir Archie. He sat silent and preoccupied, filling his gla.s.s whenever the decanter was near him, and drinking in a mechanical way, as if he were scarcely conscious of what he was doing.

Now and then he glanced at the flower in his coat, deeming the glance unnoticed; but the earl saw it, and every time he detected the downward droop of the eyes, his own grew sterner and more troubled.

Meanwhile, in the drawing-room, the ladies were sipping their coffee and conversing in the perfunctory fas.h.i.+on which prevails while they are awaiting the arrival of the gentlemen.

Lady Wolfer, who had, up to the present, borne her part in the entertainment extremely well, suddenly appeared to have lost all interest and all desire to continue it. She seated herself beside the fire and next the easy-chair into which the d.u.c.h.ess had sunk, and gazed dreamily over the screen which she held in her hand. Some of the ladies gathered in little groups, others turned to the books and alb.u.ms, one or two yawned almost openly. A kind of blight seemed falling upon them.

Nell, who was unused to the phenomena of dinner parties, looked round, aghast. Were they all going to sleep? Suddenly she realized that it was at just such a moment as this that she was supposed to come in. She went up to Lady Wolfer and bent down to her.

"Won't somebody play or sing?" she asked. "They all seem as if they were going to sleep."

"Let them!" retorted Lady Wolfer, almost loudly enough for those near to hear. "I don't care. Ask some one to sing, if you like."

Nell went up to a young girl who stood, half yawning, before a picture of Burne-Jones'.

"Will you play or sing?" she asked.

The girl looked at her with languid good humor.

"I'd sing; but I can't. I have no parlor tricks," she said. "Besides, what's the use? n.o.body wants it," and she smiled with appalling candor.

Nell turned from her in despair, and met Lady Angleford's eyes bent upon her with smiling and friendly interest. Nell went up to her appealingly.

"I want some one to sing or play--or do something, Lady Angleford," she said.

Lady Angleford laughed, the comprehensive, American laugh which conveys so much.

"And they won't? I know. It isn't worth while till the gentlemen come in," she said. "I know that--now. It used to puzzle me at first; but I know now. You English are so--funny! In America a girl is quite content to sing to her lady friends; but here--well, only men count as audience.

They will all wake up when the men appear. I have learned that. Or perhaps you will play or sing?"

Lady Wolfer was near enough to hear.

"Yes, Nell, sing," she said, with a forced smile.

Nell looked round shyly, then went to the piano.

"That's the sweetest girl I've seen in England," said Lady Angleford to her neighbor, who happened to be the dowager d.u.c.h.ess. Her grace put up her eyegla.s.ses, with their long holder, and surveyed the slim, girlish figure on its way to the grand piano.

"Yes? She's awfully pretty. And very young, too. A connection of the Wolfers', isn't she? Rather sad face."

"A face with a history," said Lady Angleford, more to herself than the d.u.c.h.ess. "Do you know anything about her, d.u.c.h.ess?"

Her grace shrugged her fat shoulders sleepily.

"Nothing at all. She's here as a kind of lady companion, or something of the sort. Yes, she's pretty, decidedly. Are you going on to the Meridues' reception?"

Nell sat down and played her prelude rather nervously; then she sang one of the songs which she had sung in The Cottage at Shorne Mills--one of the songs to which Drake had never seemed tired of listening. There was a lull in the lifeless, perfunctory conversation, and one or two of the sleepy women murmured: "Thank you! Thank you very much!"

"Bravo! Sing us something else, Nell!" said Lady Wolfer.

Nell was in the middle of the second song when the men filed in. Some of them came straight into the room and sought the women they wanted, others hung about the doors, and, hiding their yawns, glanced quite openly at their watches.

The earl made his way to his wife where she was sitting by the fire, her eyes fixed on the flames, which she could just see over the top of her hand screen.

"I have to go on to the Meridues' when these have gone," he said. "Are you coming, Ada?"