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“The best, the bravest, the noblest in the world,” she answered. “You are an honourable English gentleman; a man whose word is as good as his bond. You are a true man in heart and in soul.”

“Faith! child, do not say any more or you’ll crush me to the earth. Why, you poor little girl, I am not a bit like that in reality. Do you think I have no wild blood in me. Don’t I look at times, at times—the truth now, Nancy—don’t I look at times a very Ishmaelite, a man whose hand might be against every other man? Has not my eye a wild gleam in it? Look at me now, Nance, and say truly what you think.”

“You never appear anything to me but what I have just said,” she answered, giving him a somewhat timid glance, “but it is true that others have told me——”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Rowton, “I thought that whisper would get about. You see, my fair Nancy, I am not exactly what I seem. To you, my darling, I am all that is true, all that is honourable, but to the world at large—I will whisper it to you, Nancy—the world and I, the world and Adrian Rowton, are at daggers drawn. Now, my love, will you marry me, knowing this?”