Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 58

Nell glanced at the clock and mechanically took up her gloves, which she had torn from her hands.

"I will go straight to the station."

"You do not wish to see Ada?" he said, speaking of his wife by her Christian name, for the first time in Nell's hearing.

"No," she said, quietly but firmly.

"Perhaps it is best," he murmured. "I will order a carriage for you--you will have something to eat?"

"No, no; I will not! The carriage, please! Tell--tell Lady Wolfer that I had to go home suddenly. Tell her anything--but the truth."

He inclined his head; then he went to the bureau and took out some notes.

"You will let me give you these?" he asked, very humbly and anxiously.

Nell looked at the money with a dull indifference.

"What is owing to me, please. No more," she said.

"If I gave you that, it would leave me beggared," he said gravely.

"Please give me your purse."

He folded some notes and put them in her purse, and held out his hand.

"You will let me go to the station?" he asked.

"No, no!" said Nell. "I would rather go alone."

"You are not afraid?" he ventured, in a low voice.

Nell was puzzled for a minute; then she understood that he meant afraid of Sir Archie. It was the last straw, and she broke down under it; but, instead of bursting into tears, she laughed--so wild, so eerie a laugh, that Wolfer was alarmed. But the laugh ceased suddenly, and she lowered her veil. He held out his hand again, and held hers in a warm and grateful grasp.

"G.o.d bless you, my dear!" he said. "If you are right, I--I shall owe my life's happiness to you!"

Nell went up to her room and told Burden to pack a small hand bag. "I am going away for a few days," she said; and though she endeavored to speak easily, the maid looked at her anxiously.

"Not bad news, miss, I hope?" she said.

"No; oh, no!" replied Nell.

The earl was waiting for her in the hall, and put her into the brougham; and he stood and looked after the carriage with conflicting emotions.

Then he went upstairs, and, after pausing for a moment or two, knocked at his wife's door.

"It is I," he said.

He heard her cross the room, and presently she opened the door. She was in her dressing robe, and she looked at him as if she were trying to keep her surprise from revealing itself in her face.

"May I come in?" he said, his color coming and going. "I--I want to speak to you."

She opened the door wide, and he entered and closed it after him.

She moved to the dressing table, and took up a toilet bottle in an aimless fashion.

"I have come to tell you that I have to go abroad," he said. He had thought out what he would say, but his voice sounded strange and forced, and, by reason of his agitation, graver even than usual.

"Yes," she said, with polite interest. "When do you go?"

"To-day--at once," he said. "Can you be ready in time for us to catch the afternoon mail?"

She turned her head and looked at him. The sun had come out, and shone through the muslin curtains upon her pretty face and soft brown hair.

"I!" she said, surprised and startled. "I! Do you want me to go?"

"Yes," he said.

He stood, his eyes fixed on hers, his brows knit in suspense and anxiety.

"Why?" she asked.

He came a little nearer, but did not stretch out his hands, though he longed to do so.

"Because--I want you," he replied.

She looked at him, and something in his eyes, something new, strange, and perplexing, made her heart beat fast, and caused the blood to rush to her face.

"You--want--me?" she said, in a low voice, which quavered. Its tremor drew him to her, and he held out his arms.

"Yes; I have wanted you--I have always wanted you. Ada, forgive me! Come to me!"

She half yielded, then she shrank back, her face white, her eyes full of remorse and something like fear.

"You--you don't know!" she panted.

"Yes, I know all--enough!" he said. "It was my fault as much--more than yours. Forgive me, Ada! Let us forget the past; let us begin our lives from to-day--this hour! No, don't speak! It is not necessary to say a word. Don't let us look back, but forward--forward! Ada, I love you! I have loved you all along, but I was a fool and blind; but my eyes are opened, and----Do you care for me? Or is it too late?"

She closed her eyes, and seemed as if about to fall, but he caught her in his arms, and, with a sob, she hid her face on his breast, weeping pa.s.sionately.

Nell sank into a corner of the luxurious carriage, and stared vacantly before her. The reaction had set in, and she felt bewildered and confused. She was leaving Wolfer House "under a cloud." For all her life one person, at least--Lord Wolfer--would deem her guilty of misconduct.

She shuddered and closed her eyes. How should she account to mamma for her sudden return? Then she tried to console herself, to ease her aching heart with the thought of the meeting, the reconciliation of the husband and wife. She had not sacrificed herself in vain, not in vain!

What did it matter that the earl deemed her guilty? As she had said, she was n.o.body, a girl for whom no one cared. She was going back to Shorne Mills. Well, thank G.o.d for that! In six hours she would be home. Home!

Her heart ached at the word, ached with the longing for rest and peace.

She found that a train did not start until three, and she walked up and down the station for some time, trying to forget her unhappiness in the bustle and confusion which, even at the end of this nineteenth century, make traveling a burden and a trial.