He entered the park by the small gate behind which Ted and Burden had stood on the preceding night, and was treading his way through the wood when he saw two figures--those of a man and a girl--walking in the garden behind the south lodge. He glanced at them absently for a moment, then he stopped, and, leaning heavily on his stick, caught his breath. The man was Falconer, and the girl was--Nell! They were pacing up and down the path slowly, she with her eyes downcast, some flowers in her hands, he with his face turned toward her, a rapt look in his eyes, his hands, folded behind his back, twitching nervously. They turned full face to Drake as he stood watching them, and he saw her distinctly. It seemed marvelous to him that he had not fully recognized her last night, that he had not guessed that the young engineer was Dick. The blood rushed to his face, then left it pale, and he stood, unseen by them, gnawing at his mustache. In all his musings on the past, all his thoughts and dreams of her, the possibility of her being engaged or married had never occurred to him. He had always pictured her as still "Nell of Shorne Mills," living at The Cottage as she had done when she and he were lovers. And it was she--she, Nell!--to whom this musician was engaged! A wave of bitterness swept over him, and in the agony of his jealousy he could have laughed aloud. He had been sighing for her, longing for her, feeding his soul on his memory of her, all these months, while she had not only forgotten him, but had learned to love another man! He stood and stared at them, as if he saw them through a mist, too overwhelmed to move; but presently he saw Nell look up with tears in her eyes, and hold out her hand slowly, timidly. Falconer took it and put his lips to it. The sight broke the spell that held Drake, and, with a muttered oath, he turned and walked away quickly through the wood toward the house. The first dinner bell was ringing as he entered the hall. Most of the guests had gone up to dress, but one or two still lingered in the hall, and among them Lady Angleford and Lady Luce. The former came to meet him as he entered. "Why, where have you been, Drake?" she said, with the little maternal manner with which she always addressed him. Lady Luce was lounging in a chair, playing with a grayhound, and she looked up at him with a smile, then lowered her eyes, as if she were afraid their welcome should be too marked. "I've been for a walk," he said. His face was flushed, his eyes bright--too bright--with suppressed emotion. "I've been lunching at the Styles' farm----" "That's a long way! Aren't you tired? Will you have some tea? I'll get some made in a moment or two. Do!" "No, no; thanks!" he said, as he pitched his cap on the stand. "It's too late." As he spoke he went up to Lady Luce and looked down at her, his face still flushed, his eyes still unnaturally bright. "What have you been doing with yourself, Luce?" he asked.