was seated at the foot of one of the big elms, and heard his quick,
firm steps. She looked up, and would have risen and flown, but he was
upon her before she could move--was upon her, and in some strange,
never-to-be-explained way had got her hand in his.

"Nell--Nell!" was all he could say, as he knelt beside her and looked
into her eyes.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

At the passionate "Nell! Nell!" at the grasp of his hand, the blood
rushed to Nell's face, and her breath came painfully. She was startled
and not a little alarmed. Why was he kneeling at her feet, why did he
call upon her name with the appeal of love, the note of entreaty, in his
voice? He was no longer Drake Vernon, but the Earl of Angleford, the
promised husband of Lady Lucille.

The color left her face, and she drew her hand from his and shrank away
from him, so that she almost leaned against the tree.

He half rose and looked at her penitently, and with something like shame
for his vehemence. Indeed, he had rushed from the lodge in search of
her, remembering nothing, thinking of nothing, but the fact that they
were both free. But now he realized how suddenly he had come upon her,
how great a shock his passionate words, his excited manner, must have
been to her.

"Forgive me!" he said, still on one knee; "forgive me! I have frightened
you. I forgot."

Nell tried to still the throbbing of her heart, to regain composure; but
she could not speak. He rose and stood before her, his eyes fixed on
her, eloquent with love and admiration. She had never seemed more
beautiful to him than at this moment. Her face was thinner and paler
than it had been in the happy days at Shorne Mills, but it had grown in
beauty, in that spiritual loveliness which replaces in the woman that
which the girl loses. The gray eyes were pure violet now, and fuller and
deeper, as they mirrored the soul which had expanded in the bracing
atmosphere of sorrow and trial.

He had fallen in love with an innocent, unsophisticated girl; he was
still more passionately in love with her now that, a girl still in
years, she had developed into glorious, divine womanhood. His eyes
scanned her face hungrily, yet reverently, as he thought: Was it
possible that he had once kissed those beautiful lips, had once heard
them murmur "I love you?" And was it possible that he might again hear
those magic words? His soul thirsted for them. It seemed to him that if
he were to lose her now, if she were to s