“It may be anything you please as far as I care,” said Rowton. “I’ll change my mind for no man; now, help yourself to some beer.” Scrivener took a long draught, and Rowton ate in silence; his thoughts were far away, and his heart, for all his brave words, felt like lead in his breast. While he ate and frowned and thought, Scrivener regarded him furtively. “Where are you going to live when you marry?” he asked abruptly. Rowton brought his thoughts back to present things with an effort. “Did you speak?” he asked. “I only want to know, Silver, if your bride is to come to this house?” “She is not.” “Where then?” “She will come with me to Rowton Heights.” “What!” exclaimed Scrivener; “you don’t mean to say——” Rowton nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I do; the king will come into his own; I shall lord it at Rowton Heights, and mark my words, will be the great man of the place before I am six weeks in possession. I am marrying a lady, and she will help me to entertain the county folk.” Scrivener’s small eyes began to glitter. “It is like you, Rowton,” he said after a pause; “you always were magnificent in your ideas; but Rowton Heights! I did not think you would dare.” “There is nothing under Heaven that I would not dare,” said Rowton. “And now, with your permission, if you have lunched, I have got heaps to attend to. Take my message to Long John; tell him that I wed next week, that I take my full honeymoon with its four quarters; and that at the end of that time he will hear from me from Rowton Heights.” CHAPTER VII. THE WEDDING NIGHT. Adrian Rowton kept his word to the letter. His iron will seemed to bend all things to his wishes. Nancy Follett forgot her father’s dying injunctions. Long John in his lair in London remained passive. Samson did not dare to utter a word. Rowton went backwards and forwards day by day from London to Andover. The special licence was procured—the rector was asked to come to church to perform his duty; and on a certain dull morning early in December, when the snow lay on the ground and the world was steeped in a winter’s fog, Nancy Follett stood by Adrian Rowton’s side and was made, with the full blessing of the Church, his lawful wedded wife.