It was not a moment for cheering, but sudden exclamations burst from the
men, most of the women were in tears, and Nell was sobbing as she lay on
her friend's bosom.
Lady Luce alone remained smiling. Her face was white, her breath came in
quick, labored gasps.
"What a charming romance!" she exclaimed, with a forced sneer. "So
completely satisfactory!"
At the sound of her voice, the countess' spirit rose in true Anglo-Saxon
fashion. She checked her sobs, wiped her eyes with a morsel of lace she
called a handkerchief, and, sweeping in a stately manner to the door,
said, with the extreme of patrician hauteur: "A carriage for Lady Lucille Turfleigh, please!"
Lady Luce shrugged her shoulders, turned, and slowly moved toward the
door; and, as she went, the crowd made way for her, and left her a clear
passage, as if she had suddenly become infectious.
Nell did not see her go, did not hear the mingled expressions of
indignation and congratulation which buzzed round her.
All she heard was Drake's "Nell! Nell! My dearest! my own!" as he put
his arms round her and drew her head to his breast.
Those persons who are fortunate enough to receive invitations to the
summer and shooting parties, which Lord and Lady Angleford give at
Anglemere, have very good reason to congratulate themselves; but those who
are still more fortunate to receive a letter from Nell, asking them to
spend a fortnight at the picturesque and "cottagy" house which Drake has
built at a certain out-of-the-way spot in Devonshire called Shorne Mills,
go about pluming themselves as if they had drawn one of the prizes in
life's lottery. For only very intimate and dear friends are asked to
Shorne Mills.
The house is not large. With the exception of the grooms, there are no
menservants; there is no state, and very little formality; life there is
mostly spent in the open air, in that delicious mixture of sea and
moorland air in which everyday worries and anxieties do not seem able to
exist.
At The Cottage no one finds time hanging heavily on his or her hands; no
one is bored. It is a small Liberty Hall. There are horses to ride;
there are tramps to be taken across the heather-scented hills; there are
yachting and fishing in the bay, and there is always light-hearted
laughter round and about the house--especially when her ladyship's
brother, Mr. Dick Lorton, is present; and he and the famous musician,
Mr. Falconer, always come down together, and remain while the family
occupy The Cottage. There, too, the dowager countess is always a regular
visitor; indeed, Nell and she are very seldom apart, for, if the
countess could tear herself away from Nell, she certainly could not
leave the baby son and heir, who is as often in her arms as in his
mother's.