For a brief space she
leaned against the cold railings, looking intently at a branch of ivy
which the north wind was tossing against the diamond-shaped panes of the
window--then she drew herself up hastily and proudly, and walked on
rapidly towards the bleak hills which she must cross to reach her
father's farm at Braley Brook.
"How I wish I was out of my time," she said to herself, as the crisp
snow crackled beneath her small feet. "I could go away then and earn my
living, where I could never see him--or hear him--. Oh, Fred!" she broke
out in what was almost a cry, "_why_ have you met me and walked with me
so often, if you meant to leave off and say no more? It must be because
my dress has grown so shabby--I don't look so--so nice as I did--yet if
his father were not hard I might have more." And poor Nancy being now
far from any habitation gave herself the relief of a good cry, knowing
she could not be observed.
In the meantime the organ at the church had ceased playing, and the
young man who was seated at it began turning over a pile of music which
lay beside him. But this he did mechanically--he was not going to play
again that evening, he did it as an accompaniment to perplexed thought.
He remained so long silent that Benny Dodd, who had been "blowing" for
him, ventured out from among the shadows cast by the organ pipes and
asked, "Please, Mr. Fred, are you going to play any more?"
Fred Hurst looked up smiling, and feeling in his waistcoat pocket for
the customary coin, said cheerfully, "I had quite forgotten you, Benny!
No, I shall not play any more to-night.
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