When you're ready to change the brine on your pickles, I'll come down and do it." "Thank you, Molly," answered the other; "you're a nice light hand for such things." In some almost imperceptible manner she felt that the girl had rebuffed her.

The conversation had been pleasant enough, yet Kesiah had meant to show in it that she considered Molly's position changed since the evening before; and it was this very suggestion that the girl had tossed lightly aside--tossed without rudeness or malice, but with a firmness, a finality, which appeared to settle the question forever.

The acknowledged daughter of Mr.Jonathan Gay was determined that she should continue to be known merely as the granddaughter of his overseer.
Kesiah's overtures, had been--well, not exactly repulsed, but certainly ignored; her advice had melted to thin air as soon as it was spoken.
As Molly flitted from her over the young weeds in the meadow, the older woman stood looking after her with a heaviness, like the weight of unshed tears, in her eyes.

Not the girl's future, but her own, appeared to her barren of interest, robbed even of hope.

The spirit that combats, she saw, had never been hers--nor had the courage that prevails.