“Nevertheless, he must have gone to bed,” said Lady Georgina, “for I have not seen him for several hours. He was dancing with me, having a very good time, and making outrageous proposals, the monkey, that I should be his future wife. He was called out of the room by your maid, Hester Winsome, but promised to be back in a moment. He never came back, however.” “Mrs. Ferguson may have sent Hester to speak to him,” said Nance after a pause; “she is quite a dragon about early hours for the boy. I wonder he did not appeal to me. Poor little dear, he must have been disappointed if he was banished off to bed when he expected so thoroughly to enjoy himself.” “The boy was much better in bed,” said Rowton suddenly; “don’t fret yourselves about him now. Good-night, Lady Georgina.” He held out his hand as he spoke. The lady took it, favoured him with a full admiring glance, kissed Nance on her cheek, and left the room. “Now, Nancy, to bed, to bed. I cannot keep my eyes open a moment longer,” said her husband. He took her hand and they ran upstairs. A fire burnt in the beautiful bedroom; the doors of the two dressing-rooms were wide open—fires were also blazing there. Through the drawn curtains, with their soft shadows of rose colour, peeped in the first rays of the dawn. “How horribly dissipated I feel,” said Nance with a smile. “The fact is, I have never in the whole course of my life spent the entire night dancing before.” “You have enjoyed everything, have you not, dearest?” “Almost beyond the point of enjoyment,” she replied. “My happiness was so great that I felt, to allude to an old superstition, ‘fey,’ as they express it.” “Nonsense, little woman,” replied her husband. “This is the beginning, let us trust, of many scenes as gay, as fresh and invigorating.” Nance moved a step or two nearer to Rowton as he spoke. A ray of sunshine at that moment pierced through the rose curtains and fell across her face and figure. It gave her a sort of unearthly beauty. Rowton went up to her, put his arms round her, and clasped her to his heart. “What is there about you, child,” he said, “which moves all the best in me? The dead, forgotten good stirs feebly once again in my breast.” “But you are good. Why will you ever and always run yourself down?” she said, a note of pain in her voice. “To you I _am_ what I seem,” he said; “for you I could, devil that I am—yes, Nancy, for you I could almost become an angel.” He unloosed her suddenly as he said the words. “Get to bed, child,” he said; “take off those pearls and that diamond.” Nance put her hand to her head, took the black diamond from her hair, and then slipped the row of pearls from her neck. “I am glad to be rid of these priceless treasures,” she said. “Had you not better take them down to the safe at once, Adrian? Is it wise to keep them here till the morning?”