world, and so had dismissed the idea from his mind. And now--well, of course, he would not change his Nora for any woman. She was a glory to him, whilst poor Nell would only have been a disgrace. Still he wished from the bottom of his heart that she had been more reasonable, and gone home quietly to her friends, and, by-and-by, married some man in her own station of life, who would have considered the settlement he wished to make on her a little fortune. Lord Ilfracombe wondered, by the way, who _were_ Nell’s friends, and where she came from. She had never mentioned her old home to him. Did they know of her sad death, he wondered; or of the circumstances that led to it? He thought not. She was not the sort of woman to betray the man she loved even in death. She would have carried her secret with her to the grave. It was done, and it could not be undone, he would tell himself, but the thought made the house very distasteful to him. He became nervous, even timid. He did not care to enter his private rooms at dusk, and would fancy he heard a sigh, or caught sight of a shadowy form flitting by him in the gloaming. One day he called his wife ‘Nell.’ It was a fearful mistake, and his face grew crimson as he discovered it; but Nora was wonderfully calm under the little _désagrément_. ‘Was that Miss Llewellyn’s name, Ilfracombe?’ she asked archly. ‘Oh, my love, forgive me!’ cried the earl. ‘What can I have been thinking of? It was the mere force of habit. You know she was here with me, and it is the first time I have been in the house since.’ ‘Did you think I should be angry?’ asked Nora, looking back at him over her shoulder. ‘Surely it is the most natural thing in the world that you should think of the poor girl. You would be a brute if you didn’t; but don’t get melancholy over it, dear boy. Come into the Park with me, or let us go down the river together. I won’t leave you moping here by yourself.’ And it was such things that made Lord Ilfracombe say, and rightly, that he had gained a wife in a thousand. He was anxious that she should accompany him to the Derby, for two reasons--anxious that she should see the biggest race of the year, which, of course, she had never yet had an opportunity of doing; and anxious to let the racing world see what a charming countess he had secured. The Dowager Lady Ilfracombe was very much against the idea, and the Ladies Devenish said it was decidedly vulgar and not at all _comme il faut_. ‘If Ilfracombe had taken you to Ascot, or Goodwood, it would have been different, but the Derby! Why, hardly any ladies go there. There is always such a vulgar crowd, and, coming back by the road, you are bound to be insulted.’ ‘Do you think so?’ said Nora. ‘I should like to see the man who would dare to insult me in Ilfracombe’s presence.’