“Why do you say ‘yes’ in that dismal way? Is he not glad? Will he not welcome me as a son-in-law after his own heart? A little talk will reassure him on many subjects. When can I have it?” “Never, I fear, Adrian; he is too ill.” “Well, then, I take you without his leave.” “That’s just it,” replied Nance, speaking with hesitation and distress. “You know, Adrian, how he began by taking a wonderful fancy to you. During all the six years of our residence in this dismal old Grange you are the only stranger who has set foot across our threshold. Father liked you to come—he liked to talk to you—he liked to talk of you when you went away. It comforted me immeasurably to feel that you and father suited each other. When I saw that you loved me I was more glad than I can say, to feel assured on the point of father also being tolerant to you. Well, things have changed. The dreadful change took place after your last visit. When you were gone, when you shut the hall-door behind you, I found father in a state of strange and nervous excitement. He was pacing up and down the room, clasping and unclasping his hands and muttering to himself. I really had not the least idea what it all meant. He kept saying under his breath: ‘Suspected—yes, suspected—there is a likeness—there is a possibility of my search being terminated.’ Oh, he has a secret, Adrian, but I don’t want to go into that now, and I thought his poor brain was turned and that he was off his head, and I went to him quite tenderly and touched him on his arm, and said, ‘Sit down, calm yourself.’” “‘I cannot,’ he said, shaking me off, ‘my heart is on fire and I am nearly mad. That man—that man—and I harboured him here.’” “‘What man?’ I asked in astonishment. “‘Rowton,’ he said, ‘Adrian Rowton; I have harboured him here and made a friend of him! Ah, but I shall track him down yet.’ “I felt myself turning quite faint with astonishment and an unaccountable sense of terror. “‘Father,’ I said, ‘you must be mad.’ “‘No,’ he answered, ‘not mad, but my suspicions are aroused. Good heaven! that I should have harboured that man here!’ “Then he pulled himself together, and tried to speak quietly. ‘Nancy,’ he said, ‘listen to me. My suspicions are aroused—the man who calls himself Adrian Rowton is never to come here again.’ “‘You cannot mean it,’ I said. “‘I can and do,’ he replied. ‘He is never to darken these doors again. Why, what is the matter?’ he exclaimed, for I was trembling and the tears were running down my cheeks. “‘It is only that I love Adrian Rowton better than anyone else in all the world,’ I replied. “Then he stood up and I thought he was going to curse me, but he did not curse me, he cursed you instead. Oh! he used awful, fearful words, and when they were over he fell down in a sort of fit. He got better after a little, and since then has not breathed your name. I do not know what he would do if he really knew that you and I were sitting here together.”