"We all miss you—especially the butcher and the baker," replied Dick diplomatically. "And now I'm off. And, Nell—oh, do mind my hat!—if you know Drake's address, I should like to write to him."
She shook her head.
"Strange," said Dick. "I wrote to the address in London to which I posted the letters when he was ill, and it came back 'Not known.' I—I think he must have gone abroad. Well, there, I won't say any more; but—'he was werry good to me,' as poor Joe says in the novel, you know, Nell."
Yes, it was well for Nell that she had no time to dwell upon her heart's loss; and yet she found some minutes for that "Sorrow's crown of sorrow," the remembrance of happier days, as she leaned over her black lace bodice that night when the great house was silent, and the quiet room was filled with visions of Shorne Mills—visions in which Drake, the lover who had left her for Lady Luce, was the principal figure.
On the night of the big dinner party, she, having had the last consultation with Mrs. Hubbard and the butler, went downstairs. The vast drawing-room was empty, and she was standing by the fire and looking at the clock rather anxiously—for it was quite on the cards that Lady Wolfer would be late, and that some of the guests would arrive before the hostess was ready to receive them—when the door opened and her ladyship entered. She was handsomely dressed, and wore the family diamonds, and Nell, who had not before seen her so richly attired and bejeweled, was about to express her admiration, when Lady Wolfer stopped short and surveyed the slim figure of her "housekeeper companion" with widely opened eyes and a smile of surprise and friendly approval.
"My dear child, how—how——Ahem! no, it's no use; I must speak my mind! My dear Nell, if I were as vain as some women, and, like most, had a strong objection to being cut out in my own house by my own cousin, I should send you to bed! Where did you get that dress, and who made it?"
Nell laughed and blushed.
"I bought it in Regent Street—half of it—and made the rest; and please don't pretend that you like it."
"I won't," said Lady Wolfer succinctly. "My dear, you are too pretty for anything, and the dress is charming! Oh, mine! Mine is commonplace compared beside it, and smacks the modiste and the Louvre; while yours——Archie is right; you have more taste than Cerise herself——" She broke off as the earl entered. "Don't you admire Nell's dress?" she said, but with her eyes fixed on one of her bracelets, which appeared to have come unfastened.
The earl looked at Nell—blushing furiously now—with grave attention.