said she. "To be sure this
is a great change for one like you; but who knows the future?"

Mr. Archer turned towards her in the darkness, and she could clearly
perceive that he smiled upon her very kindly. "There spoke a sweet
nature," said he, "and I must thank you for these words. But I would not
have you fancy that I regret the past for any happiness found in it, or
that I fear the simplicity and hardship of the country. I am a man that
has been much tossed about in life; now up, now down; and do you think
that I shall not be able to support what you support--you who are kind,
and therefore know how to feel pain; who are beautiful, and therefore
hope; who are young, and therefore (or am I the more mistaken?)
discontented?"

"Nay, sir, not that, at least," said Nance; "not discontented. If I were
to be discontented, how should I look those that have real sorrows in
the face? I have faults enough, but not that fault; and I have my merits
too, for I have a good opinion of myself. But for beauty, I am not so
simple but that I can tell a banter from a compliment."

"Nay, nay," said Mr. Archer, "I had half forgotten; grief is selfish,
and I was thinking of myself and not of you, or I had never blurted out
so bold a piece of praise. 'Tis the best proof of my sincerity. But
come, now, I would lay a wager you are no coward?"

"Indeed, sir, I am not more afraid than another," said Nance. "None of
my blood are given to fear."

"And you are honest?" he returned.

"I will answer for that," said she.

"Well, then, to be brave, to be honest, to be kind, and to be contented,
since you say you are so--is not that to fill up a great part of
virtue?"

"I fear you are but a flatterer," said Nance, but she did not say it
clearly, for what with bewilderment and satisfaction, her heart was
quite oppressed.

There could be no harm, certainly, in these grave compliments; but yet
they charmed and frightened her, and to find favour, for reasons however
obscure, in the eyes of this elegant, serious, and most unfortunate
young gentleman, was a giddy elevation, was almost an apotheosis, for a
country maid.

But she was to be no more exercised; for Mr. Archer, disclaiming any
thought of flattery, turned off to other subjects, and held her all
through the wood in conversation, addressing her with an air of perfect
sincerity, and listening to her answers with every mark of interest. Had
open flattery continued, Nance would have soon fou