‘You must try, sir, to keep your spirits up,’ said she.  ’To be sure this is a great change for one like you; but who knows the future?’

Mr. Archer turned towards her in the darkness, and she could clearly perceive that he smiled upon her very kindly.  ’There spoke a sweet nature,’ said he, ’and I must thank you for these words.  But I would not have you fancy that I regret the past for any happiness found in it, or that I fear the simplicity and hardship of the country.  I am a man that has been much tossed about in life; now up, now down; and do you think that I shall not be able to support what you support—­you who are kind, and therefore know how to feel pain; who are beautiful, and therefore hope; who are young, and therefore (or am I the more mistaken?) discontented?’

‘Nay, sir, not that, at least,’ said Nance; ’not discontented.  If I were to be discontented, how should I look those that have real sorrows in the face?  I have faults enough, but not that fault; and I have my merits too, for I have a good opinion of myself.  But for beauty, I am not so simple but that I can tell a banter from a compliment.’

‘Nay, nay,’ said Mr. Archer, ’I had half forgotten; grief is selfish, and I was thinking of myself and not of you, or I had never blurted out so bold a piece of praise.  ’Tis the best proof of my sincerity.  But come, now, I would lay a wager you are no coward?’

‘Indeed, sir, I am not more afraid than another,’ said Nance.  ‘None of my blood are given to fear.’

‘And you are honest?’ he returned.

‘I will answer for that,’ said she.

’Well, then, to be brave, to be honest, to be kind, and to be contented, since you say you are so—­is not that to fill up a great part of virtue?’

‘I fear you are but a flatterer,’ said Nance, but she did not say it clearly, for what with bewilderment and satisfaction, her heart was quite oppressed.

There could be no harm, certainly, in these grave compliments; but yet they charmed and frightened her, and to find favour, for reasons however obscure, in the eyes of this elegant, serious, and most unfortunate young gentleman, was a giddy elevation, was almost an apotheosis, for a country maid.

But she was to be no more exercised; for Mr. Archer, disclaiming any thought of flattery, turned off to other subjects, and held her all through the wood in conversation, addressing her with an air of perfect sincerity, and listening to her answers with every mark of interest.  Had open flattery continued, Nance would have soon found refuge in good sense; but the more subtle lure she could not suspect, much less avoid.  It was the first time she had ever taken part in a conversation illuminated by any ideas.  All was then true that she had heard and dreamed of gentlemen; they were a race apart, like deities knowing good and evil.  And then there burst upon her soul a divine thought, hope’s glorious