Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 32

"Married!"

She drew away from him and caught her breath.

"Why not?" he asked. "I shan't be any the richer for waiting, and--and I want you very badly."

"But I am here--you have got me," she said, with all the innocence of a child. "Oh, why should we hurry?"

He bit his pipe hard.

"I know," he said, rather huskily. "But I want you altogether--for my very own. I don't want to have to part with you at the gate of The Cottage. You don't understand; but I don't want you to. But, Nell, as we are going to be married, we might as well be married now as months hence."

Her head sank lower; the _Annie Laurie_ lost the wind, and fell off and rolled on the ground swell.

"Do you--want to marry me--so soon?" she murmured.

"So soon!" he echoed. "Why, it is months--weeks--since we were engaged."

"But--but--aren't you happy--content?" she asked. "I--I am so happy. I know that you love me; that is happiness enough."

He drew her to him and kissed her with a reverence which he thought no woman would have received from him.

"No; it is not enough, dearest," he said. "You don't understand. I'll put the banns up to-morrow--no; I'll get a special license. I want you for my own, all my own, Nell."

When they sailed into the slip by the jetty, d.i.c.k was waiting for them.

"Hal-lo!" he yelled. "I've been waiting for you for the last two hours.

I've news for you."

"News?" said Drake.

Nell was coiling the sheet in a methodical fas.h.i.+on, and thinking of Drake's words.

"Yes. The Maltbys are going to give a dance, and you and I and Nell are asked."

"And who are the Maltbys?" he inquired, with a lack of interest which nettled d.i.c.k.

"The Maltbys are our salt of the earth," he replied; "they are our especial 'local gentry'; and, let me tell you, an invitation from them is not to be sneezed at."

"I didn't sneeze," said Drake, clasping Nell's hand as he helped her out of the boat.

"It's for the fifth," said d.i.c.k; "and it's sure to be a good dance; better still, it's sure to be a good supper. Now, look here, don't you two spoons say you 'don't care about it,' for, I've set my mind upon going."

Drake laughed easily.

"Would you like to go?" he asked of Nell.

"Would you?" she returned.

Loverlike, he thought of a dance with her. She was, her girlish innocence, so sparing of her caresses, that the prospect of holding her in his arms during a waltz set him aching with longing.

"Yes," he said, "if you like."

"All right," she said. "Yes, I should think we might go, d.i.c.k."

"I should think so!" he shouted. "Fancy chucking away the chance of a dance!"

"How did they come to ask us?" Nell inquired. "We don't know them very well," she explained to Drake. "The Maltbys are quite grand folk compared with us; and, though Lady Maltby calls once in a blue moon, and sends us cards for a garden party now and again, this is the first time we have been invited to a dance."

"You have to thank me, young people," said d.i.c.k, with exaggerated self-satisfaction. "I happened to meet young Maltby--he's home for a spell; fancy he's sent down from Oxford--and he asked me to go rabbiting with him. He's not much of a shot, though he is a baronet's son and heir, and I rather think I put him up to a wrinkle or two. Anyway, the other day he mentioned that they were going to have a dance--quite an informal affair--and asked if I'd care to go; and Lady Maltby's just sent a note."

"All right," said Drake.

Then he suddenly remembered his masquerade, and looked grave and thoughtful. Yes, it was just possible that some one there might recognize him.

"Who are the Maltbys?" he asked. "I never heard of them."

d.i.c.k's eyes twinkled.

"I can't truthfully say that that argues you unknown," he said; "for they are very quiet people, and only famous in their own straw yard. Old Sir William hates London, and he and Lady Maltby seldom leave the Grange."

"There is no daughter, only this one son," explained Nell. "They are not at all 'grand,' and I think you will like them. Lady Maltby is always very kind, and Sir William is a dear old man, who loves to talk about his prize cattle."

"Do you happen to know who is staying at the house?" asked Drake.

After all, perhaps, he would run no risk of detection; as he had never met the Maltbys, it was highly improbable that they had heard of him.

"Oh, it's not a large party. I remember some of the names, because young Maltby ran over them. He said there weren't enough in the house to make up a dance. I shrewdly conjectured that that's one reason why we were asked."

"Wise but ungrateful youth!" said Drake. "Let us hear the names."

d.i.c.k repeated all that he could remember.

"Know any of them?" he asked.

"No," replied Drake, with relief.

"The fifth," mused Nell, thinking of her dress. "It is very short notice."

"It's only a scratch affair; but, all the same, I should wear my white satin with Brussels lace, and put on my suite of diamonds and rubies, if I were you," advised d.i.c.k.

Nell laughed, as she glanced up at Drake.

"I am just wondering whether I have outgrown my nun's veiling," she said simply. "It's the only dress I have. I'm afraid"--she hesitated--"I'm afraid you will think it a very poor one!"

"Are you?" he said significantly. "You never can tell. Perhaps I shall admire it."

As he spoke he asked himself whether he should send up to Bond Street for some jewels for her; but he resisted the temptation. Later on, when they were married, he would give himself the treat of buying her some of the things women loved. Even in the matter of the engagement ring he had held himself in check, and only a very simple affair encircled the third finger of Nell's left hand.

They found Mrs. Lorton in a flutter of excitement, and she handed Drake the note of invitation with the air of an empress conferring a patent of n.o.bility.