t
Nancy was no longer a shy, timid little girl ready to place her hand
in his, but a young woman who would need to be wooed before she was
won,--even though there were no Raymond.

"What had he expected anyway?" he reiterated sternly. "That she would
be waiting his coming, all ready for the plucking?" He straightened
himself in the saddle. He had long since learned how to work and wait
for things he wanted; he could do it again.

He led the conversation away from the personal. They talked of nature,
each finding under the spur of companionship many new interests in the
old wood; and being a devoted nature lover, Steve was pleased to find
that Nancy had added to her tender interest in the feathered folk much
information as to peculiar characteristics of varying species. It was
an easy transition from nature to nature's interpreters, the poets,
and the two found mutual interest in recalling some choice things of
literature. She had spent four years at a fine old Kentucky college,
graduating in June with high honours. There was still a sweet
seriousness about her as in the little Nancy of old, in spite of her
girlish gaiety, and while the years of study had brought her an
unmistakable breadth and culture, there was also a quaint freshness of
speech and manner that made her especially attractive. Steve found
keen satisfaction in the conversation, for the girl understood his
view-point and yet had fresh conceptions of her own which she knew how
to express.

He said to himself as he studied her (which having put aside the
personal he could now do), "She has the New England alertness of mind
inherited from her mother without the New England reticence, and from
her Kentucky father, eccentric as he is, she gets the vivacity and
charm which is the Kentucky girl's birthright."

And yet in the midst of his enjoyment an insistent despair of heart
returned as he recalled a certain good fellowship in her attitude
towards Raymond, which was missing with him. Obtuse as lovers usually
are, it never occurred to him that this was one of the best of
symptoms in his favour!

They had gone in leisurely fashion through the wood, but the tall
trees began to drop away at last, and they went down the slope till
the old mill stood before them in soft, quaker-gray upon the bank of a
turbulent, rushing mountain creek. The big, wooden wheel had fallen
from its place and the old mill itself was fast dropping into complete
decay, but the trees i