story I shall some day write. Miss Sabina's performances upon the
pianoforte were limited to such compositions as the "Canary Birds'
Quadrilles," "My Heart is Over the Sea," etc., which she never played at
all now. But she looked at the old piano, and recalled her
sister-in-law's pretty baby looks and tragic end, and prophesied evil
for Fred. Jacob Hurst laughed the whole business to scorn. The one being
in Shenton who could have genuinely rejoiced at Fred's success knew
nothing about it.

Nancy's thoughts were constantly with him, however, and when her work
ended for the day, and she walked homeward across the hills to Braley
Brook, she connected many an inanimate object she passed with some look
or word of his. These looks and words had always been so kind, so
gentle, that as the brook, where the forget-me-nots grew in summer, or
the bank in the hollow where the primroses grew thickest in spring, or
the fallen tree, which, as the weeks passed, would become golden with
moss and lichen again--as all these would awaken to summer sunshine and
gladness;--so would her heart. Fred's love for her--she felt sure he had
loved her--was only hidden away like the flowers under the snow, to
bloom forth again in spring. It was her winter, that was all, she told
herself. She must wait as the flowers did.

When she reached home, her mind was filled with hope--hope which but too
soon was to give place to despair. Last night Mrs. Forest had struck
her--but then she had not looked nearly so angry as she did now when her
daughter appeared before her.

"Where is my ten shillings?" she cried menacingly, as Nancy closed the
kitchen-door behind her. "What have you done with it, you ungrateful,
unnatural girl?" she repeated loudly.