It was maliciously observed sometimes by the gossips in the village that Tim Nicol did not visit one whom he had professed to love, and that sufficient amusement for his leisure hours could be found within the boundaries of the Manor Farm. The observation was unfair, for Tim had never been a constant visitor anywhere, and was now much occupied at the foundry, which was ‘on overtime;’ and if in his spare moments he was more at the Manor than before, there were many reasons why he should not leave its shelter. He had never quite recovered from the scene at the Rantan, and was obliged to be careful of his health; and, besides, he was studying for some science classes, for the sake of which he stayed in the town two evenings in the week. No doubt, when he was not there he could be found in the Manor kitchen, but then the kitchen was warm and bright for study, whilst his own little bedroom was dark and cold above; and, if he had to endure much wisdom from the lips of Farmer Robson, he could be sure that Farmer Robson would not be always in the room. Alice was there, almost always, but she sat at her knitting, and did not speak to him. ‘There never was such a good girl as Alice,’ Tim reflected; ‘she stays at her work so as you’d not know she was near.’ For this power of being present and yet inaudible is a decided virtue in a woman--in the opinion, that is to say, of a man. So these two were often together--young companions--whilst, without, the winter evenings were dark and indistinct, or the yard was full of the pallor of dense grey mist, which hid the light of the rising moon behind it. Within, all was bright and tending to cheerfulness, and Tim’s books would be piled on one of the wooden chairs; and, whilst he made mechanical drawings, or knit his brows in study, Alice’s strips of red knitting grew longer on her lap. It is so comfortable, in one’s times of trouble, to be near to another who has suffered like oneself, and to feel, through the silence of uninterrupted business, the presence of an unspoken sympathy. But it is the sheep in the fold who can thus draw near to each other; the wanderers are in darkness and alone.