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“And mine for you means madness if thwarted,” he replied. “There is not a man on earth can keep me from winning and holding you. There, you may go to the old man now, for I see you want to; we’ll be man and wife before another moon is passed. I’ll come back in the morning to learn your news. Good-night.”

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Rowton left the house, clinking his spurs as he did so; Nancy listened to the sound he made with a beating heart.

“Suppose father hears,” she thought; but then she remembered that the old man was lying in a state of stupor, which, in all probability, would end in death. He could not, therefore, hear. So far she was safe. Why did her father hate her lover? Why had he cursed the man whom she loved? Well, he was dying, and dead men were powerless to interfere with those who lived. Rowton’s strong will would assuredly win the day, and Nancy would be his bride.

“His willing bride,” she murmured, clasping and unclasping her fingers. “It is awful to think of marrying him against father’s wishes, but I know perfectly well that I shall do it. I am incapable of refusing him anything. I love him to desperation, and who can wonder! I love my father, too, but not as I love Adrian.”