“I wish you would not remind me of that,” she said after a pause.
“You force me to,” he replied; “the time has come for me to remind you of it, Nancy; I shall not interfere with your secrets if you do not interfere with mine.”
“Then you have secrets?” she said again.
“Yes, little girl,” he answered—his voice was low—there was shame in the tone.
“Ah!” he said suddenly, “you would make me an angel and worship me as such, but I am a fiend. Do not try to know too much; be happy—you can be happy, but knowledge would be your death-blow.”
She sat quite still and did not speak another word. In the distance she heard a child’s laughter.
“Hark to the young cock sparrow—he has recovered,” said Adrian; “nothing depresses him long, and nothing can crush him.”
CHAPTER XI.
THE QUEEN ANNE WING AND GARDEN.
Nancy lay long awake that night. Her husband slept soundly by her side, but sleep seemed determined not to visit her; she was agitated, alarmed, depressed. All the glory of that summer moon through which she had lived had faded not only into autumn, but into winter.
What were Adrian’s secrets? Why was he cruel to his own sister? What was the mystery which hung over him? The burden Nance had herself to carry was quite sufficiently heavy to daunt most women, but just at present she seemed to have laid it aside. All her thoughts were for Adrian. She loved him more deeply, more passionately than ever, but she found herself not only anxious but curious. What did he mean by those dark hints? Where she found him angel, why did other people think of him as fiend? Towards morning the tired girl fell asleep. She slept until late, and awoke to find a snow-covered world, but much comfort around her. A fire had already been lighted in her room and her maid, Hester, was waiting to attend on her.