“I never told you, darling,” said her husband, “that in your own house amongst your servants and our tenantry, you will take the position of a great lady.”
“I! a great lady!” she said; “I! poor little starved Nance of the Grange.”
“But starved no longer, and the Grange may well now be forgotten,” he said. “I told you that I was rich, did I not?”
“Yes. Have you not proved it?” she said; “why, you are made of money; I never heard of anyone throwing money away so lavishly.”
“Goodness, child! you know nothing of what really wealthy men can do. Understand once for all, Nance, that I am rich, I am very rich. It is my pleasure to give you everything that money can buy. I want to make your life one long dream of happiness.”
“You are doing so,” she said; “but I think in one way you make a mistake,” she added.
“How?” he asked, surprised at her tone.
“You think that I want such a lot of money, Adrian. In that sense you do not really know me. I like pretty dresses, but not too many; I like pretty jewels, but not too many again; I like the soft things of life, but a little of them contents me.”
“Then I am not making you happy,” he said in alarm.