And what about Nan? Well, things were going on in their usual jog-trot course at Lochenbreck. The winter was their dull season, and she had plenty of time at her disposal, which she employed in sewing, reading, practising her music, and occasionally taking part in the quiet social gatherings of her country neighbours. She was, of course, delighted to hear of her lover’s success in London. ‘Well, after all,’ she thought, ‘he seems to have known best.’ Then she thought smilingly of the time when he would be coming to claim the fulfilment of her promise; and she hoped she could induce him to spend part of the year at least at Lochenbreck. The parting with her father was the only drawback in her fair future; and she hoped this might be partially at least averted. She sometimes thought of her old and trusted friend the editor, and a shadow would come over her countenance for a moment. It passed quickly away, however, for she never thought but that he had long since forgotten her, amid the gaieties of the continent and his literary pursuits; for though far from London, he still held the editorial reins and wrote his usual articles for the _Olympic_. This pleasant, tranquil state of matters lasted for some weeks. Her lover still corresponded regularly with her; but his letters began to get shorter, and were, perhaps, not quite so profuse and warm in their amatory expressions. Then after a bit they came more irregularly and seldomer. Still Nan paid no heed to what another maiden might have taken as indications of their lover’s failing allegiance. Hers was a happy, contented disposition, with no morbid desire to conjure up possible future evils. She loved Alfred sincerely, and with all the warmth and fervour of a girl’s first love. That he had failings, her strong, keen sense showed her plainly enough; but then he was only a fallible mortal like herself and other people. She was not blind to the vanity he displayed in writing to her about his social triumphs. If there was anything that troubled her, it was the frequent references he made to Mrs Judson. She resented the control which this woman seemed to have acquired over her lover’s doings. True, the widow was almost old enough to be his mother, and had been very kind to him; but a man should have a mind of his own, and hold his future in his own hands; if he did consult with any one, it should be with her who was soon to be his wife.