rite to have
deceived you so. I'm not worth it. I'm not, indeed. If you only knew
what a wretch I am, you couldn't think of me any more. There are such
lots of nice girls. If you would only choose somebody proper and
sensible and accomplished and clever--"

"Oh, Nan, I don't want her. Don't force her on me, please. I've met
her such scores and scores of times, and she bored me so unutterably. I
want just you, and no one else; but don't trouble your head about me for
another year. Live your own bright life. I would not for the world
shorten your girlhood or make you old before your time. It won't be a
very depressing thought, dear, will it, that somewhere a hundred miles
away a man is loving you, and trying to live a better life because of
his love?"

Nan could not answer, could only shake her head in a mute dissent. No;
it was far from depressing--it was beautiful, inspiring--but, oh, what a
responsibility! Gervase might say that he would not willingly shorten
her girlhood, but, alas! had he not already done so? To feel that
another heart leant on her own, another life depended on her for
happiness--was this not a reflection to sober the most careless and most
light-hearted of natures? Nan knew full well that this short interview
was as a milestone in her life, and that at one step she had left behind
the careless days of youth.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

AFTER TWO YEARS.

Nearly two years had passed by since Lilias had broken off her
engagement with Ned Talbot, and Gervase Vanburgh had told Nan of his
love, and a stranger passing along the village highroad one bright May
day might have discerned an air of unusual excitement and bustle in
Thurston House. The housemaids were hanging clean curtains in every
window from attic to cellar; the gardener was bedding out plants;
message boys besieged the house with trays of provisions, and the Parcel
Delivery van seemed to empty its entire contents at the door. Nor did
the bustle grow less as one entered the house, for the hall was banked
up with plants, and seven girls enveloped in aprons seemed to be chasing
one another up and down stairs, so rapid and unceasing were their
movements. There would have been no difficulty in recognising our old
friends, though the years had not passed without bringing changes in
their wake. Maud's sweet face had lost its look of sadness, and
blossomed into fresh youth; Lilias was still the professional beauty,
whose ver