"Oh, yes, Styles and I are old friends," he said. "We mean to live here a great deal. I shall keep up the Home farm; they've offered me the mastership of the hounds, and I think I shall take it. Nell's a capital horsewoman. In fact, we shall lead a country life most of the time, and see as much as we can of our people."
"You're right," said the duke emphatically. "It's the best of all lives. If we all lived on our estates and looked after our people, we should hear very little of socialism, and such like troubles. It's the absenteeism which is answerable for most of the mischief."
They discussed county affairs, "horses, hounds, and the land," for some minutes; then Drake, who was anxious to go to Nell, asked the men if they would have any more wine, and, receiving a negative, rose, and made for the drawing-room.
Miss Angel was singing; Dick of course, was turning over her music. There was a little hushed buzz of conversation which is not too loud to permit the song to penetrate, and which indicates that things are going well. Drake went to Nell and leaned over the tall back of her chair without a word. When the song was finished, the countess went up to Falconer and asked him to play. A footman brought the precious violin, and Nell went to the piano and struck up the piece which they had chosen. Conversation ceased, and every one prepared to listen with eager anticipation.
Falconer may have played as well in his life, but he certainly never played better. One could have heard a pin drop during the softer notes of the exquisite music, so intense and almost breathless was the silence of the rapt audience. When the last note had died away, the countess went up to him.
"It is useless trying to thank you, Mr. Falconer," she said, "but if you will play again——"
"Certainly," said Falconer. He turned to Nell. "What shall I play next?" he asked, as if the choice must naturally rest with her.
She turned over the music and set up a Chopin, and he had placed the violin in position, when the door opened, and Lady Luce swept slowly in. She was superbly dressed, her neck and arms and hair were all a-glitter with diamonds. Though she was rather pale, her face was perfectly serene, and she smiled sweetly as she crossed the room.
Her entrance caused a surprise; the countess happened to be standing with her back to the door, and did not see her come in; but she felt the sudden silence and turned to ascertain the cause. For a moment she was rooted to the spot, and the color left her face. It says much for her aplomb that she did not cry out. Her confusion lasted only for a moment, then she went toward Lady Luce with outstretched hand.
"I am so sorry to be so late," said Luce, in her sweetest tones, "but my maid, who is a perfect tyrant, refused to dress me until I had rested——"