Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 8

Nell hesitated a moment, then took a chair at the other side of the window.

"You've a splendid view here," he remarked, staring steadily out of the window, for he felt rather than saw that the girl was a little shy--not shy, but, rather, that she scarcely knew what to say.

"Oh, yes," she a.s.sented, in a voice in which there was certainly no shyness. "There is a good view from all the windows; we are so high.

Won't you have your beef tea?"

"Certainly. I'd forgotten it. Don't get up. I'll----"

But Nell had got up before he could rise. As she brought the tray to him he glanced up at her. He had been staring at the bedroom wall paper for some days, and perhaps the contrast offered by Nell's fresh, young loveliness made it seem all the fresher and more striking. There was something in the curve of the lips, in the expression of the gray eyes, a "sweet sadness," as the poet puts it, which impressed him.

"It's very good to be down again," he said. She had not gone back to her chair, but leaned in the angle of the bay window, and looked down at the village below. "I seem to have been in bed for ages."

She nodded.

"I know. I remember feeling like that when I got up after the measles, years ago."

"Not many years ago," he suggested, with a faint smile.

"It seems a long time ago to me," said Nell. "I remember that for weeks and months after I got well I hated the sight and smell of beef tea and arrowroot. And Doctor Spence--your doctor, you know--gave me a gla.s.s of ale one day, and stood over me while I drank it. He can be very firm when he likes, not to say obstinate."

Mr. Vernon listened to the musical voice, and looked at the slim, girlish figure and spirituelle face absently; and when there fell a silence he showed no disposition to break it. It was difficult to find anything to talk about with so young and inexperienced a girl, and it was almost with an air of relief that he turned as Mrs. Lorton entered.

"And how do you feel now?" she asked, with bated breath. "Weak and faint, I'm afraid. I know how exhausting one feels the first time of getting down. Eleanor, I do hope you have not been tiring Mr. Vernon by talking too much."

Mr. Vernon struggled with a frown.

"Miss Lorton has scarcely said two words," he said. "I a.s.sure you, my dear madame, that there is absolutely nothing the matter with me, and that--that I could stand a steam phonograph."

"I am so glad!" simpered Mrs. Lorton. "I have brought this week's _Society News_. I thought it might amuse you if I read some of the paragraphs--Eleanor, I think you might read them. Don't you think indolence is one of the greatest sins of the day, Mr. Vernon?" she broke off to inquire.

Vernon smiled grimly, and glanced at Nell, who colored under the amused expression in his eyes.

"I dare say it is," he said. "Speaking for myself, I can honestly say that I never do anything unless I am compelled."

Nell laughed, her short, soft laugh; but Mrs. Lorton was not at all discomfited.

"That is all very well for a man, though I am sure you do yourself an injustice, Mr. Vernon; but for a young girl! I think you will find something interesting on the third page, under the heading of 'Doings of the Elite,' Eleanor."

Nell took the paper--the journal she especially detested, and d.i.c.k never failed to mock at--and glanced at Mr. Vernon; but he looked straight before him, down at the jetty below; and, not shyly, but, with a kind of resignation, she began:

"'Lord and Lady Bullnoze have gone on a visit to the Countess of Crowntires. Her ladys.h.i.+p is staying at the family seat, Cromerspokes, which is famous for its old oak and stained gla.s.s. It is not generally known that Lady Crowntires inherited this princely estate from her aunt, the d.u.c.h.ess of Bogs.h.i.+re.'"

"A most beautiful place," commented Mrs. Lorton. "I've seen a photograph of it--a private photograph."

Nell looked appealingly and despairingly at Mr. Vernon, but his face was perfectly impa.s.sive; and, smothering a sigh, she went on:

"'Lord Pygskin will hunt the Clodford hounds next season. His lords.h.i.+p has been staying at Blenheim for some weeks, recovering from an attack of the gout. It is said that his engagement with the charming and popular Miss Bung has been broken off.'"

"Dear me! How sad!" murmured Mrs. Lorton. "I am always so sorry to hear of these broken engagements of the aristocracy. Miss Bung--I think it said last week--is the daughter of the great brewer. Poor girl! it will be a blow for her!"

Not a smile crossed the impa.s.sive face; Nell thought that perhaps he was not listening, but she went on mechanically:

"'The marriage of the Earl of Angleford has caused quite a flutter of excitement among the elite. His lords.h.i.+p, as our readers are aware, is somewhat advanced in years, and had always been regarded as a confirmed bachelor----'"

At this point Nell became aware that the dark eyes had turned from the window to her face, and she paused and looked up. There was a faint dash of color on Mr. Vernon's cheeks, and a tightening of the lips. It seemed to Nell, judging by his expression, that he had suddenly become impatient of the twaddle, and she instantly dropped the paper on her lap. But Mrs. Lorton was enjoying herself too much to permit of such an interruption.

"Why do you stop, Eleanor?" she inquired. "It is most interesting. Pray, go on."

Nell again glanced at Mr. Vernon, but his gaze had returned to the window, and he shrugged his shoulders slightly, as if he were indifferent, as if he could bear it.

----"'A confirmed bachelor,'" resumed Nell, "'and his sudden and unexpected marriage must have been a surprise, and a very unpleasant surprise to his family; especially to his nephew, Lord Selbie, who is the heir presumptive to the t.i.tle and estates. We say "presumptive,"

because in the event of the earl being blessed with a son and heir of his own, Lord Selbie will, of course, not inherit the t.i.tle or the vast lands and moneys of the powerful and ancient family.'"

"How disappointed he must be!" said Mrs. Lorton, sympathetically.

"Really, such a marriage should not be permitted. What do you think, Mr.

Vernon?"

Mr. Vernon started slightly, and looked at the weak and foolish face as if he scarcely saw it.

"Why not!" he said, rather curtly. "It's a free country, and a man may marry whom he pleases."

"Yes, certainly; that is, an ordinary man--one of the middle cla.s.s; but not, certainly not, a n.o.bleman of Lord Angleford's rank and position.

How old did it say he is, Eleanor?"

"It doesn't say, mamma," replied Nell.

"Ah, well, I know he is quite old; for I remember reading a paragraph about him a few weeks ago. They were describing the ancestral home of the Anglefords--Anglemere, it is called; one of the historic houses, like Blenheim and Chatsworth, you know. And this poor Lord Selbie, the nephew, will lose the t.i.tle and everything. Dear me! how interesting! Is there anything more about him?'

"Oh, yes; a great deal more," said Nell despairfully.

"Then pray continue--that is, if Mr. Vernon is not tired; though, speaking from experience, there is nothing so soothing as being read to."

Mr. Vernon did not look as if he found the impertinent paragraphs in the _Society News_ particularly soothing, but he said:

"I'm not at all tired. It's very interesting, as you say. Please go on, Miss Lorton."

Nell looked at him doubtfully, for there was a kind of sarcasm in his voice. But she took up the parable.

"'Lord Selbie is, in consequence of this marriage of his uncle, the object of profound and general sympathy; for, as the readers must be aware, he is a persona grata in society----' What is a persona grata?"

Nell broke off to inquire.

"Lord knows!" replied Mr. Vernon grimly. "I don't suppose the bounder who wrote these things does."

Mrs. Lorton simpered.

"It's Italian, and it means that he is very popular, a general favorite."

"Then why don't they say so?" asked Nell, in a patiently disgusted fas.h.i.+on. "'Is a persona grata in society. He is strikingly handsome----'"