But Nancy Forest had left Shenton early, as we have seen, so Fred Hurst did not overtake her.  He went all the way to Braley Brook, however, and right up to the ruinous old farmhouse where the Forests lived, and waited in the orchard some time, hoping that Nancy would come out to bring in some linen which hung to bleach among the bare apple trees.  He knew that Nancy always helped her mother in the evenings.  But on this evening no errand seemed to bring her out of doors, and Fred Hurst went away without seeing her, meaning to meet her next day.

It would have been wiser if Fred had gone boldly to the farmhouse and asked to see Nancy; but we are none of us wise at all times, and we have generally to pay in pain for our lack of wisdom as well as for our actual faults, though perhaps not in the same degree.

II.

Fred Hurst’s father was Nancy’s father’s master, as we have seen; and a hard enough master, as Mrs. Dodd had said.  John Forest and his family—­that is, his wife and Nancy—­lived in the only habitable part of what had once been a considerable farmhouse.  John worked on the “land,” took care of the horses and other live stock—­there were not many—­and his wife attended to the poultry, which were numerous enough.  She also earned a little by mending the holes which the rats bit in the corn-sacks.  In harvest-time she made gentian beer for the men, and a kind of harvest cake, originally made for a four o’clock meal, which explains the word known as “fourses.”  But with all these little extras the Forests found it sufficiently hard to live, and of course Nancy was not yet earning.

“You ought to have sent that girl of yours to service,” Mr. Hurst would not infrequently say to Nancy’s mother.  He, moreover, said the same thing to his maiden sister Sabina, when Fred was present.

It was then that Fred’s eyes opened to the fact that Nancy Forest was more to him than anything else in the world—­far, far more than the old playmate he had thought her.  Send Nancy to service! sweet, delicate, lady-like little Nancy, with her dimpled white hands.  Perhaps Nancy had no business to have white hands, and dainty, refined ways; but she had, and that was Aunt Sabina’s fault for having her so much at the Manor.  It was partly nature’s fault, too, certainly, for Nancy had always seemed like a changeling, she was so above her surroundings.

Fred Hurst having thus discovered his own love, proceeded to discover Nancy’s.  It was all clear to him now, he was sure she had given her pure childlike heart to him, perhaps unwittingly, as he had done.  How blind he had been!  With knowledge, caution came.  Fred made up his mind that he must no more walk with Nancy till he was prepared to do so in his true character—­that of a lover.  This would be impossible till he could offer a home to Nancy.  It might be that his father would even turn the Forests away, if he suspected his son’s affection for their only child.  He could not risk that.  So two months passed.