“No, Nancy, you will do nothing of the kind,” said Rowton. He spoke, on purpose, in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. “You are over excited now and very much upset. Put on your hat, darling, and let us go outside. It is not so gloomy out as in; this tumble-down old Grange is enough to give the blues to anyone. You don’t live another week in such a hole. Wait, my angel, until you know what life really is, and life with me. I’ll show you what it is to live. Why, you won’t know yourself—no more dull days, no more cold and starvation. You shall have the softest of homes, the most luxurious of lives, the most tempting delicacies to eat, the most beautiful dresses to wear. You shall listen to music, you shall sing yourself, you shall see laughing faces around you, amusements of every sort shall but await your orders, and above and beyond all these things, sweetheart, there will be love. The mighty love of my heart will surround you.” Rowton had by no means a tender face—his bold black eyes, his stalwart frame, his swarthy complexion, his ringing voice, were all made to command—but when he chose, no man could be more tender; his deep voice could thrill to the very depths of the soul, his eyes could speak volumes of passionate adoration. Nancy shivered as she looked at him. “How much I love you,” she repeated, twining and untwining her slender hands as she spoke, “and yet, Adrian, I must part from you.” “Not a bit of it, wild bird,” was the reply. “You and I are never going to part again in this world—we shall be man and wife before a week is out. Now, Nancy, do you really believe that a slender bit of a girl like you can oppose a man of my sort, more particularly when you confess how much you love me? Why, the last obstacle to our marriage was withdrawn last night, and now you talk about a secret, as if any secret that ever existed can come between us. After all, Nance, that old father of yours was a very crabbed nut to crack—well, he is out of the way, now.” “He was my father—do not speak against him.” “I won’t, child; far be it from me to hurt you by disparaging the dead. Your father is dead now and you are alone. I whistle and you come to me, my pretty bird. I lure you to my side and you stay with me always. We’ll be married next week. Hullo! what are you trying to say, sweetheart? You had a terrible night, forsooth, and you speak of an awful doom which you say hangs over you. Faith! Nancy, there is no doom which ever yet hung over a girl’s head that can part you from me. Now, look me full in the eyes. Jove! child, you have almost wept your pretty eyes out of your head. Well, look full at me if you can. Dare to say ‘no’ when you look me full in the eyes.”