“I see we shall be capital friends,” she said, looking at him affectionately. “We’ll often talk together of that tall girl whom you are to marry. Now come out into the grounds; a little of the fresh air may take off my headache.” They walked about for some time, and then a beautifully-appointed carriage being brought round, Nancy ran upstairs to put on her bonnet and mantle, and she and Murray drove to church together. After all, Rowton did not come back in time to go with them. Nancy’s heart sank within her. She did not want to face the eager and curious congregation without him. Her life had been so solitary for such a number of years that she was often affected by almost painful shyness—she felt queerly shy now, and quite trembled as she walked up the little church. A verger went before her, opened the family pew with much ceremony, and ushered in the bride and Murray Cameron. Murray had very quick perceptions. He seemed to guess all that Nancy was feeling—accordingly he sat close to her, seeming to take possession of her. He found her places for her, and saw that she was accommodated with a comfortable footstool; now and then his eyes fixed themselves on her lovely face; when he saw that it looked pale and sad, he slipped his little hand into hers. The service was about half way through, when the pew door was suddenly opened, and, to Nancy’s surprise, and indescribable delight, Rowton came in. He just glanced at her and then seated himself at her other side. His face looked perfectly serene and contented. Nancy’s face now shared the look of apparent happiness which was seen on his. All her depression vanished on the instant—she felt comforted, soothed, blissful. He had gone away, but he had come back again; the first separation was over; how full of delight were the joys of reunion! After church Rowton stopped to speak to one or two friends. He introduced Nancy to an old lady with a kindly face, and beautiful grey hair. “This is my wife, Lady Joyce.” Lady Joyce favoured Nance with a piercing and yet kindly glance. She held out her hand cordially. “I am delighted to see you, Mrs. Rowton,” she said. “I hope to have the pleasure of calling on you to-morrow. It was a good day for us all when this young man married and elected to bring his bride back to Rowton Heights.” Rowton smiled and said something in a light tone. His remark, of a trivial nature, amused the old lady; she laughed in a very hearty way, shaking her sides as she did so. “Ah! you always were a sad dog,” she said. “Don’t forget that I have known you since you were as tall as that little lad,” pointing to Murray as she spoke. “Mrs. Rowton, I’ll have plenty of tales to tell you of that good husband of yours when we get better acquainted—so you had better keep in my good graces, young man, for you were a pickle when you were young.” The good lady hobbled off to her carriage as she spoke. Rowton helped her in, and presently Nance, he, and the boy, returned home.