Nell, who had been watching him in a dull, vacant way, lost him for a moment or two; then she heard his voice near her, and saw him dimly standing in the gallery doorway. She stifled a cry, and shrank back behind Mrs. Hawksley, so that the stout form of the old lady completely hid her. "Mr. Falconer?" she heard the deep voice say gravely. Falconer bowed, his violin under his arm, his pale, thin face perfectly composed. His music was still ringing in his ears, vibrating in his soul, too great to be stirred by the applause which had again broken out. "I have come to thank you for the sonata, Mr. Falconer, and to ask you to be so kind as to play again," said Drake, in the simple, impassive manner of the Englishman. "I shall be very pleased, my lord," said Falconer quietly; and he placed his violin in position. Drake looked absently round the gallery. It was only dimly lit by the candles in the music stands, and the servants had respectfully drawn back, so that Nell was still hidden; but she trembled with the fear that those in front of her might move, and that he might see her; for she knew how keen those eyes of his could be. Drake felt that the dim light was a pleasant contrast to the brilliance of the room below, and he lingered, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, his head drooped. He was so near Nell that she could almost have touched him--so near that she almost dreaded that he must hear the wild throbbings of her heart. Once, as the violin wailed out a passionate, despairing, yet exquisitely sweet passage of the Raff cavatina Falconer was playing, she heard Drake sigh. The cavatina came to an end, the last notes--those wonderful notes!--floating lingeringly like a human voice, and yet more exquisite than any human voice. Falconer lowered his violin, the applause broke out again as vehemently and enthusiastically as if the crowd below were at an ordinary concert, and Drake made his way to the player. As he did so, he stumbled over a violin case, the servants with a little cry--for the stumble of an Earl of Angleford is a matter of importance--moved apart, and Drake, putting out his hand as he recovered himself, touched Mrs. Hawksley's arm. "I beg your pardon," he said. "Ah! is it you, Mrs. Hawksley? You are so pleasantly dark up here." His eyes wandered from her face to that of the girl who had been shrinking behind her, and he paused, as if smitten by some sudden thought or memory. But Nell rose quickly and hid herself in the group, and Drake went on to Falconer. "Thank you again," he said. "I have never heard the cavatina--it was it, wasn't it?--better played. I am the bearer of a message from the Duchess of Cleavemere, Mr. Falconer. If you are not engaged, the duchess would be very glad if you could play for her at Cleavemere Court on the ninth of next month. I ask you at once and so unceremoniously, because her grace is anxious to know. The ninth." Falconer bowed. "May I consider, my lord?" he began hesitatingly.