on the outside of things any more; somebody—­a very desirable and handsome somebody—­admired her, too.  She didn’t analyze her feelings.  Youth never thinks or analyzes, it feels and realizes; that is why it is divine, why it is lord of the earth.  Her growing liking for him was so shy, so naive, so touchingly sincere, that Glenn was profoundly moved when he became aware of it.  He had the old South Carolina chivalry; to him women were still invested with a halo, and one approached them with a manly reverence.  He had liked girls, many girls; he would have told you, himself, that he never met a pretty girl without loving her some!  But this was the first time Glenn had ever really fallen in love, and he fell headlong, with an impetuous ardor that all but swept him off his feet, and that was like strong wine to Nancy, whose drink heretofore had been lukewarm water.

He didn’t know whether or not she was Mr. Champney’s sole heir, and he didn’t care:  what difference could that make?  He was as well born as any Champneys, wasn’t he?  And if he wasn’t blessed with much of this world’s goods just now, he took it for granted he was going to be, after a while.  As for that, hadn’t Chadwick Champneys himself once been as poor as Job’s turkeys?  And hadn’t Mr. Champneys acknowledged the relationship existing between them, slight and distant though it was?  Who’d have the effrontery to look down on one of the Mitchells of Mitchellsville, South Carolina?  He’d like to know!  Glenn began to dream the rosy dreams of twenty.

It took Nancy somewhat longer to discover the amazing truth.  She was more suspicious and at the same time very much more humble-minded than Glenn.  But suspicion faded and failed before his honest passion.  His agitation, his eagerness, his face that altered so swiftly, so glowingly, whenever she appeared, would have told the truth to one duller than Nancy.  If Mrs. MacGregor could have suspected that anybody could fall in love with Anne Champneys, she must have seen the truth, too.  But she didn’t.  She was serenely blind to what was happening under her eyes.

Nancy never forgot the day she discovered that Glenn loved her.  Mrs. MacGregor had one of her rare headaches.  She was a woman who hated to upset the fixed routine of life, and as their afternoon outing was one of the established laws, she insisted that Nancy should go, though she herself must remain at home.  Half fearful, half delighted, Nancy went.  Glenn had looked at her, mutely entreating; in response to that entreaty she took the seat beside him.  For some time neither spoke—­Glenn because he was too wildly happy, Nancy because she hadn’t anything to say.  She was curious; she waited for him to speak.

“I wonder,” gulped Glenn, presently, “if you know just how happy I am.”

Nancy said demurely that she didn’t know; but if he was happy she was glad:  it must be very nice to be happy!

“Aren’t you happy?” he ventured.