“So early!” exclaimed Lady Georgina; “I am often on horseback at seven o’clock. Ah! and you might bring your husband’s little nephew with you; that boy rides splendidly—he has no fear in him.” Nancy did not reply. The sound of wheels was heard on the gravel. “There is the dog-cart,” she said, looking at Rowton. “So it is,” he answered—he looked at his watch—“and time for me to be off too. I see they have put the luggage on. Good-bye, Lady Georgina, a thousand thanks. Good-bye, little woman, expect to hear from me from town.” “Good-bye, Adrian,” said Nancy. Her voice felt like ice, but her heart was on fire. Rowton took her in his arms and pressed her to his breast; his lips met hers passionately, his eyes, bold and yet full of subdued anguish, looked into hers. He turned abruptly, the door sounded behind him, and a moment later the crunching of wheels on the gravel became distinctly audible. “I would not overdo it,” said Lady Georgina, looking at Nance. “Overdo what?” she answered somewhat proudly. “Well, you know you feel horribly lonely without that good fellow. I never saw anything more plucky in my life than the way you subdued your feelings and let him go away without a murmur, but you need not mind me—I am the soul of frankness—the essence of openness. I always say what I think and show what I feel. You can copy me. It strikes me, by the way, that you and I are going to be friends.” “I hope so,” said Nancy. “I know it, that is, if you will have me. I am a good friend, Mrs. Rowton, and a very nasty enemy. You may as well take me as a friend, will you?” “You are Adrian’s friend, and you shall be mine,” said Nancy. “That is right. Now, look here, child. I am not going to leave you to your own miserable feelings for the rest of the day. I know that good man you have married fifty times better than you do.” “I can scarcely allow you to think that,” said Nancy. “Oh! tut, tut, of course, I don’t mean the love-making side of him. He never would make love to anybody, although half the girls round the Heights had a try for it in the old days; but I know a side of him that you do not know. He is restless, he is essentially a rover—a gay rover, we all call him here. You must get accustomed to his vanishing in the peculiar way he has just vanished—he will come back as suddenly; without the least warning, any day or any hour the sunshine of his presence will once more light up the house. Now, come for a walk in the grounds—and, oh! by the way, pray invite me to dinner.” Nancy could scarcely forbear from smiling. “Will you stay?” she asked. “Scarcely a cordial invitation,” said Lady Georgina, biting her lips and smiling; “all the same I shall accept it. If you will excuse me, I’ll just go and speak to my groom; he can take Dandy round to the stables. I need not send for a dinner dress, need I?” “Oh, no; stay as you are,” said Nance. She felt slightly stunned, but Lady Georgina’s presence forced her to rouse herself.