“It seems months back,” said Nance, pushing her hair from her flushed face. “I told Adrian then that my excitement and high spirits were almost ‘fey,’ as the saying is. I have the same feeling to-night. Never mind; while I feel happy let me enjoy life. I believe that I shall soon hear news of the boy and also of my husband. Ah! who is that?”
At this moment Scrivener was announced. Nance, with the flush on her cheeks and the queer bright light in her eyes, went forward at once to meet him. She felt stimulated all over to an extraordinary degree. Crossley had spoken the most utter nonsense. His tidings had not given her the slightest pain. A shadow of doubt of the man she loved could not visit her loyal heart.
“I seem to know your face,” she said, looking into that of Scrivener with a puzzled expression. “Ah, yes, I remember now. Surely I saw you once at Rowton Heights.”
“I saw you also, madam,” said the man.
He bowed awkwardly. Then his eyes travelled to Lady Georgina, who, bold, upright, and firm, stood not far away.
“I have a message for you alone, Mrs. Rowton,” he said.
“Please leave us, Lady Georgina,” said Nance.
“I will not,” replied Lady Georgina. “You are left in my charge by your husband, Nance, and I prefer to remain with you whatever happens. Sir, I do not know what your business can be with this young lady, but I must ask you to say it before me.”
“Very well, madam,” replied the man. “We have not a moment to lose, Mrs. Rowton,” he continued; “your husband has sent for you. I am commissioned to bring you to him immediately.”
“To bring me to him!” said Nance, her eyes lighting up with sudden tumultuous joy. “I won’t keep you. But why can he not come to me?”