“Yes, I was occupied with other matters.”
For some reason which Nancy could not understand there was annoyance in his tone. With a woman’s tact she hastened to change the subject.
“How lovely this room is!” she said; “no wonder you gave me to understand that you would dazzle me some day. I cannot believe that I am really the mistress of this house.”
“I am glad you like it!” said her husband, recovering his good humour on the instant. “Ah! I think the servant has just announced dinner. Come, Nancy mine, let me have the pleasure of leading you to the head of your table.”
The dinner passed off somewhat tamely. The dining-room was a long and decidedly sombre apartment. But the Rowtons sat at a cheerful little table at one end, laid with glittering glass and massive plate; it was brought up close to the fire, and was lit by candles with coloured shades over them. The rose coloured light somewhat softened Rowton’s harsh complexion, and cast a fairy-like gleam over Nancy with her golden hair, pale face and soft draperies. Two footmen waited, doing their work noiselessly; the rest of the room was in absolute gloom.
Nancy could scarcely tell why she felt a sudden depression. She would not yield to it, however, and struggled hard to keep up the gaiety which she had really experienced not a few minutes ago.
When the dessert was on the table she raised her voice somewhat timidly.
“May not Murray come in?” she said. “I should like to see him again.”
“Tell Master Cameron that dessert is served,” said Rowton, turning to one of the footmen.
They both noiselessly left the room and the husband and wife were for a moment alone.