Even before he had met Nell, he had been utterly weary of the old life; and, even if he had still hankered after it, it was now not possible for him. It was very improbable that he would inherit the title and estates; he had quarreled with his uncle; he had learned the bitter truth, that the women of his set were incapable of a disinterested love. And he had desired to be loved for himself alone. Does not every man desire it?
Why should he not remain as "Drake Vernon," without title or fortune? If he won a woman's love, it would be for himself, not for the rank he could bestow——
"There is Dick!" said Nell.
Drake awoke from his reverie.
"Scarcely worth while going back for him, is it?" he said. "Besides, he'll want to shoot something—and these gulls look so happy and contented——"
"Why, you told him to get his gun!" she said, with surprise. "But it doesn't matter. He's going out in Willy's boat, I see. I suppose he thinks we shan't turn back for him. Isn't it lovely this evening?"
"Yes," he assented absently.
If—if Nell, now, for instance, were to—to promise to be his wife, he would be sure that it was for himself she cared! She did not know that he was anything other than just Mr. Drake Vernon. No carking doubts of the truth and purity of her love would ever embitter his happiness.
"Where are we going?" she asked, turning on her elbow as he steered for the cove where they had lunched the other day.
"I've a fancy to look into that cave," he said. "What a capital place it would be for a picnic! Shall we go ashore for a few minutes?"