“Our good time is about to begin,” said Rowton, his arm round his wife’s waist as he spoke. “There is just a month from now to Easter. I presume all the neighbours have called on you, Nance?” “I suppose so. There are shoals and shoals of cards,” she answered. “We will look through them together—I know everybody. Have you returned the calls?” “I think so. Lady Georgina was my guide into polite society—she went with me everywhere. We left your cards with mine.” “Right. I knew you would make a splendid woman of the world. Have invitations come to us yet?” “Yes, half a dozen dinners and one or two rather big evening affairs. Oh, and a ball given by the officers at Pitstow. It is to take place in the town hall. I have not replied yet—the ball is for next Tuesday.” “We will go,” said Rowton; “we will dance our time away. I shall dance with my wife, no matter what the county say.” He hummed a bar of his favourite song, “Begone, dull care.” “You don’t look too well, Adrian,” said the young wife, glancing up tenderly into his face; “you don’t suppose I want balls or parties. You are with me again and my heart is full.” “Faith, Nance, gaiety is no delight to me,” he replied; “but ‘noblesse oblige,’ dearest—we must live up to our position. The Squire of Rowton Heights is the biggest man in the place—he must entertain. Dame Rowton must entertain too. Ah! pretty one, how superb you will look in that old dress—and I have brought home a trinket for you.” “A trinket!” said Nance; “but I have so many.” “None like this,” he answered. “What think you of a black diamond?” “Black,” she said. “Aye, such a beauty—fit for the brow of a queen. I am not going to show it you yet. You shall wear it at our own ball. To-night we will talk over that matter with Lady Georgina. She is worth her weight in gold when we take her really into our confidence.” “Yes, she has the kindest of hearts,” said Nance; “but do you really like all this excitement, Adrian? Does it really give you pleasure?” “Pleasure,” he answered, his brow darkening; “your kisses alone in all the wide world give me pleasure.” “Take them then,” she answered. CHAPTER XXI. THE RATS IN THE QUEEN ANNE WING. The new footman’s name was Jacob Short. On his arrival he had specially requested that he might be called by his Christian name. Nance saw no objection to this. The man, to outward appearance, was harmless in every way. Unlike his name he was somewhat tall of stature—this was his ostensible reason for making the request that he might be called Jacob. “I am lanky and long and thin,” he said to the maids, “and when I am spoken to as Short, it’s like inviting you all to make fun of me.” He quickly became popular in the servants’ hall and in the housekeeper’s room. He could tell good stories. He was extremely obliging and had a thorough knowledge of his duties.