Now, while all Anglemere talked of its lord and master, it had no
suspicion that he was near at hand.

Two days before Nell and Dick had arrived at the lodge, the _Seagull_
sailed, with all the grace and ease of its namesake, into Southampton
water, with my Lord of Angleford on board.

Drake leaned against the rail and looked with grave face and preoccupied
air at his native land. Two years had passed since he had last seen it,
and they had scored their log upon his face. It was handsome still, but
the temples were flecked with gray, and there were certain lines on the
forehead and about the mouth which are graven by other hands than
Time's.

It was the face of one who lived in the past, and could find no pleasure
in the present; and the expression in his eyes was that of the man to
whom the gods have given everything but the one thing his heart desired.

As he leaned against the side, with his hands in his pockets, his yacht
cap tilted over his eyes, he pondered on the vanity of human wishes.

Here he was, the Earl of Anglemere, owner of an historic title, the
master of all the Angleford estates and wealth. Almost every man who
heard his name envied him--some doubtless hated him--because of his
wealth and rank. And yet he would have given it all if by so doing he
could have been the "Drake Vernon" who had been loved by a certain Nell
Lorton; and as he looked at the blue water, rippling in the sunlight
round the stately yacht, his thoughts went back sadly to the _Annie
Laurie_ and its girl owner, and he sighed heavily.