The honeymoon was over; the four weeks all of pure gold had come slowly but surely to an end. Nancy had forgotten much during this time. The look of trouble, of anxiety, had absolutely left her face: it bloomed into greater and greater beauty in the new atmosphere. Rowton, too, appeared to be a different man. A great deal of his harshness and roughness had left him. He could be polished when he chose. In the early days of his life he had only associated with gentlemen; he was of good birth, and his natural breeding quickly re-asserted itself. “You are just like a tamed lion,” Nance was fond of saying to him. “You are so gentle to me; so courteous and kind to everyone, but I know——” “What do you know, sweet wife?” he said, clasping her round her slender waist and looking into her deep, beautiful eyes; “you must not get to know me too well, Nancy; be satisfied with the surface of me, and do not penetrate too deep.” “Ah!” she said smiling, “you will run yourself down; but I know the deepest and the best of you. I leave the shallow part to strangers.” “You were going to make a remark about the lion,” he said, patting her soft hand; “so you really think I am a roaring lion, my darling?” “You never roar to me,” she answered; “but that you can roar I am firmly convinced.” “Capital,” he said with a great laugh; “well, Nancy, I hope it will never be your fate to hear one of my manifestations. Child, we go back to England to-morrow; are you glad or sorry?” “Glad,” she replied. “I was intensely happy on our honeymoon; oh! what lovely places we have seen; how grand and magnificent the world is! It has been sunshine inside and out ever since I gave myself to you.” “And yet you want to leave it all and to go home,” he said. “I do. I love you so much that to see you at home must be the best of all; to live with you at home must be the sweetest of all.” “You are mistaken,” he said, but he said it low, and the inaudible words never reached his lips. “Pack, child, now,” he said. “Our wearisome journey begins to-morrow.” A day or two later, the Rowtons arrived at Rowton Heights in Yorkshire. Nancy had never been in this part of the country, and her excitement and delight reached the utmost bounds as they approached nearer and nearer to their destination. “You must tell me all about the place?” she said when they drove in through the gates of the long winding avenue. “Oh! what are all those people doing?” she exclaimed suddenly; “they have torches and they are coming to meet us.” “Some of the tenants on the estate, I presume,” said Rowton. “I expect Maberly, my steward, has been getting up a little display. Never mind, Nancy, it is in your honour.” “In mine,” she said in astonishment; “how very sweet of them!” “I never told you, darling,” said her husband, “that in your own house amongst your servants and our tenantry, you will take the position of a great lady.” “I! a great lady!” she said; “I! poor little starved Nance of the Grange.”