A thousand hopes, fancies, and fears flashed through his mind and heart; then Alice shyly lifted her eyes to his. "May I walk home with you, Alice?" he stammered. "Yes, if you will, Tom," and the two walked away, side by side. They walked up Liverpool Road together for some time without speaking a word. On every side the crowd passed them, but Tom did not heed, his heart was too full for words, his mind too occupied with wild, turbulent fancies. Presently they passed into a quiet lane where they were apparently alone. "Alice," said Tom at length, "I'm fair ashamed of myself, I--I'm just a----" "No," and Alice interrupted him, "you are a hero, Tom, you have done wonderful things." "Ah, but that is nothing," was Tom's reply, "I could not help doing that, no decent lad could. But the other now--ay, Alice, I am ashamed of myself. I was such a fool too!" Alice did not speak; perhaps she was delighted at Tom's self-condemnation, or perhaps, which was more likely, she was eagerly waiting for him to say more. "Is it true what mother told me?" he asked, after what seemed a long silence. "What did she tell you?" "That you are engaged to Harry Briarfield." "No!" replied the girl eagerly, "I never was!" "Then is it that young parson?" "No, Tom; who could have told you such lies?" Lancashire people are very undemonstrative in their love-making, as in most of their things, and although Tom was nearly swept off his feet with joy at what Alice had said, he still walked on by her side quietly, and for some seconds did not speak again. "I never really cared about Polly Powell," he said presently, "even at the time I--I----" "I knew, Tom," and the girl almost sobbed as she spoke, "I knew all the time you could never really care for her, and--and that you would come back to me. That was why----" "Why what?" asked Tom. "Why there was never anybody else but you, Tom." "Do you mean it, Alice? do you really mean it?" and Tom's voice was hoarse and tremulous. "Can you forgive me? I chucked Polly Powell long ago, and I let her know it yesterday when I came home. She met me at the station with the others, and I never knew what a fool I had been till I saw her just as she was. Ay, I must have been mad!" "I heard all about it," replied the girl, "but it didn't need that to tell me that you would come back to me, Tom." "Ay," said Tom, "but I feel so ashamed. I feel as though I have nothing to offer you. I am only a poor Tommy with a bob a day, but will you wait for me, Alice, till the war is over?--and then if God spares my life I will work for you night and day, and I will give you as good a home as there is in Brunford." "I can't help waiting for you," sobbed Alice. "Can't help! Why?" asked Tom. "Because--because---- oh, you know."