Then suddenly, faintly, there came floating down to him the clear, sweet voice of Nell. What was it she was singing?
"Though years have passed, I love you yet;
Do you still remember, or do you forget?"
A great wave of bitterness swept over him, and, between his teeth, he muttered:
"They are all alike—with the face and the voice of an angel, and the heart of the Man with the Muck-rake. God save me from them from this time henceforth!"
CHAPTER VIII.
The weeks glided by, Drake's arm got mended, but he still lingered on at Shorne Mills.
There was something in the beauty, the repose, of the place which fascinated and held him. He was so weary of the world, sore with disappointment, and shrinking from the pity of his friends who were, as he knew, dying to commiserate with him over his altered prospects.
The weather was lovely, the air balmy, and for amusement—well, there was sailing in the Annie Laurie, lounging with a pipe on the jetty, listening, and sometimes talking, to the fishermen and sailors, and teaching Miss Nell Lorton to ride.
"Not that you need much teaching," he said on the first day they rode together—that was before his arm was quite right, and Mrs. Lorton filled the air with her fears and anxieties for his safety. "But you have 'picked it up,' as they say, and there are one or two hints I may be able to give you which will make you as perfect a horsewoman as one would wish to see."