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“You shall be a happy woman for the rest of your days, to make up for those six years of misery.”

“Adrian, you must hear me out.”

“Walk up and down with me, sweetheart; you’ll catch cold if you stand still.”

Rowton stole his strong arm round Nancy’s waist; they walked in front of the old Grange. Nancy soon found her head resting against her lover’s shoulder.

“Now we can talk,” he said, “but I defy you to say much about parting while I am as near to you as I am now; out with your secret, my wild bird, we’ll share it.”

“That’s just it—I cannot tell it to you.”

“What! not even to your husband?”

“You are not my husband yet.”

“I shall be in a week; won’t you tell me your secret then?”

“Never—never on this side eternity.”

“Is it so bad as all that?”

“Yes, it is ghastly, terrible.”

Rowton gave vent to a long, significant whistle.

“Tell me what you can,” he said after a pause.

“I cannot say much, Adrian. After you left me last night, father sent for me. He made me promise to do something terrible. He bound me down on pain of his curse to carry on the work which he had not time to finish. I struggled to refuse, but he frightened me into compliance. He even threatened to return as a ghost to haunt me if I would not yield to his wishes.”