tapping her satin-clad foot to the music which had begun again,
she was too excited, too anxious, to enjoy the costly delicacies before
her.

"I have so much to tell you, Drake!" she said, in a low voice, after one
or two remarks about the ball and its success. "It seems years, ages,
since I saw you! Why--why did you go away for so long, Drake? And why
did you not write to me?"

He looked at her with his grave eyes, and her own fell.

"I wrote to no one; I was never much of a hand at letter writing," he
said.

"But to me, Drake!" she whispered, with a pout. "I wanted to hear from
you so badly! Just a line that would have given me an excuse for writing
to you and telling you--explaining----"

He did not smile. He was not the man to remind a woman of her falseness,
but something in his eyes made her falter and lower her own.

"I went away because I was tired of England," he said. "I came back
because--well, because I was obliged."

"But you won't go away again?" she said, with genuine dismay in her
voice and face. "I--I feel as if, as if it were my fault; as if--ah,
Drake, have you not really forgiven me?"

Her eyes filled with tears, as genuine as her dismay--for think of the
greatness of the prize for which she was playing--and Drake's heart was
touched with a pity which was not wholly free from contempt.

"There shall be no such word as forgiveness between us, Luce," he said
gravely. She caught at this, though it was but a straw, and her hand,
from which she had taken her glove, stole over to his, and her eyes
sought his appealingly.

But before he could take her hand--if he had intended doing so--Lady
Angleford came up to them.

"Drake, they want you to lead the cotillon," she said.

He rose, but stood beside Luce.

"Directly Lady Luce has finished her supper, countess. Please don't
hurry."

But Lady Luce sprang up at once.

"I have finished long ago; I was not hungry."

"Come, then," he said, and he offered her his arm, "Will you dance it
with me?"

Her heart leaped.

"Yes. It will not be for the first time--Drake!" and as she entered the
room with him, her heart thrilled with hope, and her blue eyes sparkled
with a triumph which none could fail to notice.

CHAPTER XXX.

Certainly not poor Nell, who still remained in her dim corner in the
gallery. Mrs. Hawksley had begged her to come down to the supper which
had been laid for her and her brother and Falconer; but Nell, who felt
tha