gave; but Jane knew that no such feeling influenced her pure soul. For one long year the two sisters traversed the hills between Cressbrook and Tideswell. But they had companions, and it was pleasant in the summer months. But winter came, and then it was a severe trial. To rise in the dark, and traverse those wild and bleak hills; to go through snow and drizzle, and face the sharpest winds in winter, was no trifling matter. Before winter was over, the two young women began seriously to revolve the chances of a nearer residence, or a change of employ. There were not few who blamed Jane excessively for the folly of refusing the last good offer. There were even more than one who, in the hearing of Nancy, blamed her. Nancy was thoughtful, agitated, and wept. "If I can, dear sister," she said, "have advised you to your injury, how shall I forgive myself? What shall become of me?"
But Jane clasped her sister to her heart, and said, "No! no! dearest sister, you are not to blame. I feel you are right; let us wait, and we shall see!"
CHAPTER III. – THE COURTSHIP AND ANOTHER SHIP
One evening, as the two sisters were hastening along the road through the woods on their way homeward, a young farmer drove up in his spring-cart, cast a look at them, stopped, and said, "Young women, if you are going my way. I shall be glad of your company. You are quite welcome to ride."
The sisters looked at each other. "Dunna be afreed," said the young farmer; "my name's James Cheshire. I'm well known in these parts; you may trust yersens wi' me, if it's agreeable."
To Jane's surprise, Nancy said, "No, sir, we are not afraid; we are much obliged to you."
The young farmer helped them up into the cart, and away they drove.
"I'm afraid we shall crowd you," said Jane.
"Not a bit of it," replied the young farmer. "There's room for three bigger nor us on this seat, and I'm no ways tedious."
The sisters saw nothing odd in his use of the word "tedious," as strangers would have done they knew it merely meant "not at all particular." They were soon in active talk. As he had told them who he was, he asked them in their turn if they worked at the mills there. They replied in the affirmative, and the young man said,
"I thought so. I've seen you sometimes going along together. I noticed you because you seemed so sisterly like, and you are sisters, I reckon."
They said "Yes."
"I've a good spanking horse, you seen," said James Cheshire. "I shall get over th' ground rayther faster nor you done a-foot, eh? My word, though, it must be nation cold on these bleak hills i' winter."
The sisters assented, and thanked the young farmer for taking them up.
"We are rather late," said they, "for we looked in on a friend, and the rest of the mill-hands were gone on."
"Well," said the young farmer, "never mind that. I fancy Bess, my mare here, can go a little faster nor they can. We shall very likely be at Tidser as soon as they are."
"But you are not going to Tidser," said Jane, "your farm is just before us there."
"Yay, I'm going to Tidser though. I've a bit of business to do there before I go hom."
On drove the farmer at what he called a spanking rate; presently they saw the young mill-people on the road before them.
"There are your companions," said James Cheshire; "we shall cut past them like a flash of lightning."
"Oh," exclaimed Jane Dunster, "what will they say at seeing us riding here?" and she blushed brightly.
"Say?" said the young farmer, smiling, "never mind what they'll say; depend upon it, they'd like to be here theirsens."
James Cheshire cracked his whip. The horse flew along. The party of the young mill-hands turned round, and on seeing Jane and Nancy in the cart, uttered exclamations of surprise.
"My word, though!" said Mary Smedley, a fresh buxom lass, somewhat inclined to stoutness.
"Well, if ever!" cried smart little Hannah Bowyer.
"Nay, then, what next?" said Tetty Wilton, a tall, thin girl of very good looks.
The two sisters nodded and smiled to their companions; Jane still blushing rosily, but Nancy sitting as pale and as gravely as if they were going on some solemn business.
The only notice the farmer took was to turn with a broad, smiling face, and shout to them, "Wouldn't you like to be here too?"
"Ay, take us up," shouted a number of voices together; but the farmer cracked his whip, and giving them a nod and a dozen smiles in one, said, "I can't stay. Ask the next farmer that comes up."
With this they drove on; the young farmer very merry and full of talk. They were soon by the side of his farm. "There's a flock of sheep on the turnips there," he said, proudly, "they're not to be beaten on this side Ashbourne. And there are some black oxen, going for the night to the straw-yard. Jolly fellows, those, eh? But I reckon you don't understand much of farming stock?"
"No," said Jane, and was again surprised at Nancy adding, "I wish we did. I think a farmer's life must be the very happiest of any."
"You think so?" said the farmer, turning and looking at her earnestly, and evidently with some wonder. "You are right," said he. "You little ones are knowing ones. You are right: it's the life for a king."
They were at the village. "Pray stop," said Jane, "and let us get down. I would not for the world go up the village thus. It would make such a talk!"
"Talk! who cares for talk?" said the farmer; "won't the youngsters we left on the road talk?"
"Quite enough," said Jane.
"And are you afraid of talk?" said the farmer to Nancy.
"I'm not afraid of it when I don't provoke it willfully," said Nancy; "but we are poor girls, and can't afford to lose even the good word of our acquaintance. You've been very kind in taking us up on the road; but to drive us to our door would cause such wonder as would perhaps make us wish we had not been obliged to you."
"Blame me, if you arn't right again!" said the young farmer, thoughtfully. "These are scandal-loving times, and th' neebors might plague you. That's a deep head of yourn, though – Nancy, I think your sister caw'd you. Well, here I stop then."
He jumped down, and helped them out.
"If you will drive on first," said Jane, "we will walk on after, and we are greatly obliged to you."
"Nay," said the young man, "I shall turn again here."
"But you've business."
"Oh! my business was to drive you here – that's all."
James Cheshire was mounting his cart, when Nancy stepped up, and said, "Excuse me, sir, but you'll meet the mill-people on your return, and it will make them talk all the more, as you have driven us past your farm. Have you no business that you can do in Tidser, sir?"
"Gad! but thou'rt right again! Ay, I'll go on!" and with a crack of his whip, and a "Good night!" he whirled into the village before them.
No sooner was he gone than Nancy, pressing her sister's arm to her side, said, "There's the right man at last, dear Jane."
"What!" said Jane,
