"But why—how——What have you been doing?" demanded Mrs. Lorton; and Nell could have laughed.
"Nothing very bad, mamma," she said.
"But you must have," insisted Mrs. Lorton. "Of course it's your fault."
"Is it absolutely necessary that there should be any fault?" said Nell wearily. "But let us say that it is my fault. Perhaps it is!" She laughed unconsciously, and with a touch of bitterness. "What does it matter whose fault it is? The reason isn't of any consequence at all; the fact is the only important thing, and it is a fact that our engagement is broken. It was broken last night, and I tell you at once, mamma; and I want to beg you not to ask me any questions. Drake—Mr. Vernon—will no doubt go away to-day, and we shan't see him any more." She went to the window to arrange the blind, and Mrs. Lorton didn't see the twitching of the white lips which spoke so calmly. "And I want to forget him; I want you, too, to try and forget him, and not to remind me of him by a single word. It was very foolish, my thinking that he cared for me——Oh, I can't say another word——"
She stopped suddenly, her hands writhing together.
Mrs. Lorton stared at the counterpane with a half-sly, half-speculative expression in her faded eyes.
"After all," she said meditatively, "it was not such a particularly good match. One knows nothing about him or his people, and—and I suppose you've not felt quite satisfied. Yes, perhaps you might do better. You may have some chances now. You've read the letter, and made up your mind, of course?"
"The letter?" echoed Nell stupidly.
Mrs. Lorton stared at her angrily, and with a flush of resentment on her peevish face.
"The letter I gave you last night, of course," she said. "Do you mean to tell me that you haven't read it? The most important letter I have ever received! At least, it is of the greatest importance to you. It is from my cousin, Lord Wolfer. What have you done with it, Eleanor?"