Part 14 (1/2)

”For me?” she exclaimed.

They were opposite Sandy's stables, and d.i.c.k dropped off his horse and brought out the other.

”Look at her, Nell!” he exclaimed, with bated breath. ”Perfect, isn't she?”

Nell looked at her with a flush that came and went

”Oh, but I--I--could not!” she breathed.

Mr. Drake Vernon laughed.

”Why not?” he said argumentatively. ”Fair play's a jewel. You can't expect to have all the innings your side, Miss Nell. You've treated me--well, like a prince; and you won't refuse to ride a horse of mine that's simply spoiling for want of exercise!”

Nell looked from him to the horse, and from the horse to him.

”I--I--am so surprised,” she faltered. ”I--I will ask mamma.”

”That's all right,” said Vernon, who had learned to know ”mamma” by this time.

Nell left d.i.c.k and Vernon standing round the horses in man fas.h.i.+on. d.i.c.k was all aglow with satisfaction and admiration.

”Never saw a better pair than these, Mr. Vernon,” he said. ”I should think this one could jump.”

She had just won a military steeplechase, and Vernon nodded a.s.sent.

”You must persuade your sister to ride her,” he said.

As he spoke, he seated himself on the edge of the steep roadway which led to the jetty.

”Take the horses in,” he said. ”I'll come up in a few minutes.”

But the minutes ran into hours. He looked out to sea with a meditative and retrospective mind. He was going over the past which seemed so far away, so vague, since he had gone sailing in the _Annie Laurie_ this morning.

Then suddenly the past became the present. There was a stir on the jetty below him. Voices--the voice of fas.h.i.+onable people, the voices of ”society”--rose in an indistinguishable sound to his ears. He moved uneasily, and refilled and lit the pipe that he had borrowed of d.i.c.k. He heard the footsteps of several persons climbing the steep stairs. One seemed familiar to him. He pulled at his pipe, and crossed his legs with an air of preparation, of resignation.

The voices came nearer, and presently one said:

”I certainly, for one, decline to go any farther. I think it is too absurd to expect one to climb these ridiculous steps. And there is nothing to see up there, is there?”

At the sound of the voice, clear and bell-like, yet languid, with the languor of the fas.h.i.+onable woman, Mr. Drake Vernon bit his lips and colored. He half rose, but sank down again, as if uncertain whether to meet her, or to remain where he was; eventually he crossed his legs again, rammed down his pipe, and waited.

”Oh, but you'll come up to the top, Lady Lucille!” remonstrated a man's voice, the half-nasal drawl of the man about town--the ordinary club lounger. ”There's a view, don't you know--there really is!”

”I don't care for views. Not another step, Archie. I'll wait here till you come back. You can describe the view--or, rather, you can't, thank Heaven!”

As she spoke, she mounted a few steps, and turned into the small square which offered a resting place on the steep ascent, and so came full upon Mr. Vernon.

He rose and raised his hat, and she looked at him, at first with the vagueness of sheer amazement, then with a start of recognition, and with her fair face all crimson for one instant, and, the next, pale, she said, in a suppressed voice, as if she were afraid of being overheard: