Nan could not answer, could only shake her head in a mute dissent. No; it was far from depressing--it was beautiful, inspiring--but, oh, what a responsibility! Gervase might say that he would not willingly shorten her girlhood, but, alas! had he not already done so? To feel that another heart leant on her own, another life depended on her for happiness--was this not a reflection to sober the most careless and most light-hearted of natures? Nan knew full well that this short interview was as a milestone in her life, and that at one step she had left behind the careless days of youth. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. AFTER TWO YEARS. Nearly two years had passed by since Lilias had broken off her engagement with Ned Talbot, and Gervase Vanburgh had told Nan of his love, and a stranger passing along the village highroad one bright May day might have discerned an air of unusual excitement and bustle in Thurston House. The housemaids were hanging clean curtains in every window from attic to cellar; the gardener was bedding out plants; message boys besieged the house with trays of provisions, and the Parcel Delivery van seemed to empty its entire contents at the door. Nor did the bustle grow less as one entered the house, for the hall was banked up with plants, and seven girls enveloped in aprons seemed to be chasing one another up and down stairs, so rapid and unceasing were their movements. There would have been no difficulty in recognising our old friends, though the years had not passed without bringing changes in their wake. Maud's sweet face had lost its look of sadness, and blossomed into fresh youth; Lilias was still the professional beauty, whose very apron was donned with an air to effect; while, wonder of wonders! Nan had grown tidy, possessing hair as daintily coiled and hands as carefully kept as Lilias's own. In the old days it had been hazarded as an occasional conjecture that Nan was pretty; but there could be no doubt on that question now, for the plump face had moulded into shape, the complexion toned down to a soft pink and white, and the dark eyes shone with happiness. Happiness, indeed, seemed to radiate from Nan to-day, as she raced up and down the house, as hard-worked as any of her sisters, yet in some indefinable way distinguished from the rest, for she was given the precedence in all that went on, while every time that she and her mother came together, they embraced with fresh unction. For the rest, Elsie had reached her ambition, and the age when she might dress her hair as she chose, and by means of parting it in the middle and plastering it over her ears had given herself an appropriately funereal aspect. Even Agatha boasted a coil at the back of her head, while Christabel and Kitty wore skirts which reached to their ankles.