“But starved no longer, and the Grange may well now be forgotten,” he said. “I told you that I was rich, did I not?” “Yes. Have you not proved it?” she said; “why, you are made of money; I never heard of anyone throwing money away so lavishly.” “Goodness, child! you know nothing of what really wealthy men can do. Understand once for all, Nance, that I am rich, I am very rich. It is my pleasure to give you everything that money can buy. I want to make your life one long dream of happiness.” “You are doing so,” she said; “but I think in one way you make a mistake,” she added. “How?” he asked, surprised at her tone. “You think that I want such a lot of money, Adrian. In that sense you do not really know me. I like pretty dresses, but not too many; I like pretty jewels, but not too many again; I like the soft things of life, but a little of them contents me.” “Then I am not making you happy,” he said in alarm. “Yes, yes,” she answered: “but not because of these things. You make me happy because you love me, because you fill my heart with love, because you give me your sweetest and your best in the way of love, and because I give you all the love of my heart.” “Sweetheart, you are adorable,” he said, catching her hand and squeezing it. “You must accept the wealth and the responsibility it brings, even if you do not care for it, Nance, for it is my lot, my portion in life, to have more money than I know what to do with. Now, here we are. Come, let me introduce you to my housekeeper, to the servants. Put on the airs of a _grande dame_, pretty Nance.” She was tall, and very slender. Her neck was somewhat long and her head was set on it with perfect grace. Rowton watched her as she held that small queenly head high; his heart glowed with admiration and love. “She would fill any position,” he said to himself. “Could that curmudgeon, her father, see her now, would he know her, my beautiful, lovely darling? Ah! I cannot corrupt a heart like hers; she wants a _little_ wealth, and a _few_ pretty dresses, and a _few_ jewels forsooth, and—love, love, love for everything else. Will she always remain like that? Heaven grant it.” Meanwhile the steward, Maberly, had come up, and Mrs. Ferguson, the housekeeper, had presented a bunch of keys to Nance. Instructed by her husband she gave them back again to the good woman, telling her in a sweet voice that she knew far better what to do with them than she did. A long string of servants, all neatly attired, with white satin rosettes pinned on to their dresses, gave deep curtsies as Nance and her husband walked down the great hall through their midst. “Take Mrs. Rowton to her bedroom at once,” said Rowton, addressing the housekeeper; “see that she has everything she wants. Have you engaged a good maid for her?”