He had performed some
miles of his walk across the hills, and was within an appreciable
distance of Braley Brook, when he observed a dark figure crouching on a
fallen tree. He was at first a little startled, for it was most unusual
to meet anyone in this place, above all at such an hour: it was after
midnight. On coming nearer he saw that the figure was that of a woman.
It might be one of the cottagers from Shenton--who had been to Exboro'
and been taken ill on the way home--he would see.
He came close and touched the crouching figure, and asked gently, "Are
you ill? Can I do anything for you?"
The figure started violently and looked up at him, and in the starlight
he recognised the face of Nancy Forest.
In a moment he was seated on the fallen tree beside her, and had placed
his arm about her. "Nancy, dearest Nancy," he cried, pressing burning
kisses on her cold cheek--the first he had ever given her. "Nancy, speak
to me; tell me what is the meaning of your being here."
But she could not answer him then; she simply laid her cheek against his
shoulder and wept bitterly. But she did tell him all presently; and he
told her what he had long since wished to tell, and they walked together
to the old farm, for, of course, Nancy must return to her parents for a
little time--only a very little time, they decided. When they reached
the farm, John Forest and his wife were standing by the round table in
the house-place, where the half-sovereign lay.
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