ve Shorne Mills almost as keenly as
Nell and Drake themselves do. Nell is proud of Anglemere, and the other
places which her husband has inherited, but there is a certain corner in
her heart which is reserved for the little fishing place in which she
first saw, and learned to love, "Drake Vernon."

Watch them as they go down the steep and narrow way to the pier. It is a
July evening; the sun is still bright, but the shadows are casting a
purple tint on the hills beyond the moor; a faint breeze ripples the
opaline bay; the fishing boats are gliding in like "painted ships on a
painted ocean"; the tinkle of the cow bells mingles with the shrill cry
of the curlew and the guillemot. The _Seagull_ lies at anchor in the bay
ready to sail at a moment's notice. But Drake does not signal for the
dinghy as Nell and he reach the pier, for, though they are going for a
sail, it is not in the stately yacht.

By the slip lies an old herring boat, with _Annie Laurie_ painted on its
stern, and Brownie has got the sail up and stands waiting with a smile
to help his beloved "Miss Nell" into the old boat. Nell lays her hand
upon his shoulder as of old, and steps in and takes the tiller; Drake
makes taut the sheet, and the old boat glides away from the slip and
sails out into the open.

Drake looks up at the wind with a sailor's eye, and glances at Nell. He
does not speak, but she understands, and she steers the _Annie Laurie_
for the little piece of smooth beach which leads to the cave under the
cliff. It is to this point they nearly always make; for was it not here
that Drake Vernon told Nell Lorton of his love, and drew the confession
of hers from her lips? To this place they always come alone, for it is
sacred.

As, on this afternoon, they approach the spot, Drake utters an
exclamation of surprise.

"Why, Nell, there's another boat there!" he says.

"Not really, Drake?" she says, with a little disappointment in her
voice.

For the moments they spend in this spot are sweet and precious to her.

"Yes, there is," he says; "and, by George; there are two persons sitting
on the bowlder--our bowlder!"

Nell looks with keen eyes; then she blushes, and laughs softly.

"Drake, it's Dick and Lettie Angel!" she says, in a whisper, as if they
could hear her.

But she need not be afraid; the two young people who are seated on the
spot sacred to Nell and Drake's love, have no ears nor eyes for any but
themselves. The girl's face is downca