For a moment the name did not strike with its full significance upon Nell's mind, and the soft voice had continued for a sentence or two before she realized that the man of whom this woman was speaking, the lover whose loss she was regretting, bore the same name as Drake. She had no suspicion that the men were the same; it only seemed strange and almost incredible that there should be two Drakes at Shorne Mills. "I can imagine the scene," said Lady Chesney; "and I can quite understand how you feel about it. But, Luce, is it altogether hopeless?" Lady Luce laughed bitterly. "You don't know Drake," she said. There was a pause. "And yet"--she hesitated, and her tone became thoughtful and speculative--"sometimes I think that I could get him back. He is very fond of me; it must have nearly broken his heart. Yes; sometimes I feel sure that if I could have him to myself for, say, ten minutes, it would all come right." "Don't you know where he is?" "No. There was a row royal between his uncle and him, and he disappeared. No one knows where he is. It is just possible that he has gone abroad." "There is danger in that," said Lady Chesney gravely. "One never knows what a man may do in a moment of pique. They are strange animals." "You mean that he might be caught on the rebound, and marry some 'dusky bride' or ruddy-cheeked dairymaid?" said Lady Luce, with a little laugh of scorn. "You don't know Drake. He's the last man to marry beneath him. If I were not afraid of seeming egotistical, dear, I would say that he has known me too long and loved me too well----But there! don't let us talk any more about it. The gods may send him to my side again. If they do, I shall avail myself of their gracious favor and get him back; if not----" She sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens! how I wish I had a cigarette!" "My dear, you shall have one," said Lady Chesney, with a laugh. "I know where the smoking room is. I'll go and get you one, you poor, dear soul!" She went in, and Nell rose from her seat. She could not remain a moment longer, even if she had to tell this lady she had overheard their conversation, and beg her pardon for having played, most reluctantly, the eavesdropper. But as she stood fighting with her nervousness, a man came out through the window. Her heart leaped with relief and thanksgiving, for it was Drake. "Is that you?" he said, as he saw the figure against the coping. Lady Luce turned; the light streamed full upon her face, and he stopped dead short and stared at her. "Luce!" he exclaimed, in a low voice. She stood for a moment as motionless as one of the statues. Another woman would have started, would probably have shrunk back, with a cry of amazement or of joy; but she stood for just that instant, motionless and silent, and looking at him with her eyes dilating with surprise and delight. Then, holding out both hands, she moved toward him, murmuring: "Drake! Thank God!" CHAPTER XVI.