One or two others had proposed to Nancy in hot-headed, boyish fashion. That had been part of girlhood's fun. One, a Junior, after begging her to elope with him, had gone away crushed, and vengeful, only to send her, two weeks later, a bunch of violets and a little note thanking her for her "common-sense," explaining that "Pop had threatened to cut his allowance in half unless he settled down and made his mid-years."
These had been boys; dear, sentimental, clean-hearted boys, but Peter Hyde was different—
She had not dreamed of this—not for a moment, until she had seen it in his eyes that afternoon as they sat under the maple tree with B'lindy's lunch spread between them. He had been such a jolly comrade through these weeks at Freedom, he had been so understandable, like Claire and Anne and Daddy! He had never thought she was silly or not-grown-up-enough, he liked children and animals and knew just what to do to make Nonie and Davy happy; he had shared with her his ambitions in his work as though she was a man but, with it all, he was a farmer—his lot had been cast in the narrow confines of Judson's farm and barns and piggery—except for these pleasant days at Happy House she, Nancy Leavitt, with her heart set on a goal as distant as the stars themselves, could have little in common with him.
All this flashed through her mind as she walked slowly, reluctantly toward the orchard—and with it an annoyance that their pleasant comradeship should end this way. So that when, a little later, a very earnest Peter began to tell her in stumbling, awkward words how much her going must mean to him, she wanted to cry out and beg him to stop.
"Nancy—I'm clumsy as the devil. Don't you know what I want to tell you? I can't let you go without knowing it—and—and—Nancy, could you ever—ever love a fellow—like me—enough—to—want—to marry him?"
Then the woman's heart within her made Nancy ages old.
"Oh, Peter!" she said with tender compassion. She didn't want to hurt this very dear friend!
"I'm not nearly good enough for you, Nancy, but then, any fellow isn't good enough! And, Nancy, there isn't anything in this whole world I wouldn't do—if you cared."
"Oh, Peter!" Why in the world couldn't she say something more, she thought. Why couldn't she stem that flood she knew was coming? Why could she not make him see instantly, how impossible it all was—and say good-bye and go!
"I'll make you happy, Nancy—if loving will do it," he finished humbly.