“I’ll fetch a candle,” she answered. She ran across the hall, opened the door of a sitting-room some little distance away, and returned in a moment, holding a lighted candle high above her head. “The fire is out in the dining-room,” she said with another shiver, “but we had better go there; I can talk to you better there, and I have something to say.” “You don’t utter a word until you have a good fire to say it by,” replied Rowton. “This sort of thing is intolerable. You are going to be my wife, you know, Nance, so you have to obey me, whether your father wishes it or not. Here, give me the candle; why, your poor little hand shakes, you would drop it in another moment.” He took the light out of the girl’s trembling hands, and holding it in such a manner that he could see her face, gazed long and earnestly into it. It was a face of great spirit and beauty. The features were straight and delicate in outline, the brows perfectly black and delicately marked, the eyes large and of a lovely shade of grey, the golden hair looked like a tangled web of many lights. But now the girl’s complexion was pinched and blue with cold, and the lovely eyes had red rims round them. “Come, let us light a big fire,” said Rowton. “I’ll soon set it going; here are logs of wood and lumps of coal; fetch me an old newspaper, Nancy. Now we’ll set to work.” He dropped on his knees as he spoke, used his great hands deftly, and in a moment or two a huge fire was roaring merrily up the old chimney. “There now, that’s better,” he said. “You shall warm yourself—you shall get back your delicate complexion. Why, my wild bird, you wanted me sorely. Give me your hand—here, let me warm it. Sit on my knee close to this blaze; it will tingle right through you. Whisper one word to me, sweetheart; when did you last have a right, good, comforting meal?” “Never mind about that, Adrian; how can I eat when my poor father is dying? I love him, although——” “Although he turned your life into a hell,” interrupted the young man fiercely. “That is true,” she replied; “but never mind that now—he has gone through fearful sorrow, and I am heart and soul with him in everything.” “Well, dearest, he is your father and one cannot account for the feelings of affectionate girls like yourself. Thank heaven! I never had home ties—I cannot remember my father—my mother died when I was an infant—I was brought up in the roughest imaginable school. Yes, the school of life was hard on me, and it has turned me out a pretty rough specimen; a rough diamond, eh! sweet Nancy?” “Not to me,” she answered with sudden tenderness. “To me you are the best, the noblest of men; why will you run yourself down?” “I won’t again,” he answered. “Now let us to business. Have you told your father yet that you have promised to be my wife?” “Yes,” she replied.