 CHAPTER 47 Where the inventors of automatic machines to be ranged according to the excellence of their devices for producing sound artistic torture, the creator of the Mantrap would occupy a very respectable, if not a very high place. Which would rather, however, be said, the inventor of the particular form of Mantrap of which this found in the Keeper's outhouse was a specimen. For there were other shapes and other sizes, instruments which, if placed in a row beside one of the type disinterred by Tim, would have worn the subordinate aspects of the bears, wild boars or wolves in a travelling menagerie, as compared with the leading lion or tiger. In short, though many varieties had been in use during those centuries, which we are accustomed to look back upon as the true and only period of merry England, in the rural districts more especially, and onward down to the third decade of the nineteenth century, this model had borne the palm, and had been most usually followed when the orchards and estates required new ones. There had been the toothless variety used by the softer-hearted landlords, quite contemptible in their clemency. The jaws of these resembled the jaws of an old woman to whom time has left nothing but gums. There were also the intermediate or half-toothed sorts, probably devised by the middle-natured squires or those under the influence of their wives, two inches of mercy, two inches of cruelty, two inches of mere nip, two inches of probe, and so on through the whole extent of the jaws. There were also as a class apart the bruisers, which did not lacerate the flesh but only crushed the bone. The sight of one of these jins went set produced a vivid impression that it was endowed with life. It exhibited the combined aspects of a shark, a crocodile, and a scorpion. Each tooth was in the form of a tapering spine, two and a quarter inches long, which, when the jaws were closed, stood in alternation from this side and from that. When they were open the two halves formed a complete circle between two and three feet in diameter. The plate are treading placed in the midst, being about a foot square, while from beneath extended in opposite directions the sole of the apparatus, a pair of springs, each one being of a stiffness to render necessary a lever or the whole weight of the body when forcing it down. There were men at this time still living at Hintock, who remembered when the gin and others like it were in use. Tim Tang's great-uncle had endured a night of six hours in this very trap which blamed him for life. Once a keeper of Hintock Woods set it on the track of a poacher, and afterwards, coming back that way, forgetful of what he had done, walked into it himself. The wound brought on lock-jaw of which he died. This event occurred during the thirties, and by the year 1840 the use of such implements was well night discontinued in the neighbourhood. But being made entirely of iron, they by no means disappeared, and in almost every village one could be found in some nook or corner as readily as this was found by Tim. It had indeed been a fearful amusement of Tim and other Hintock lads, especially those who had a dim sense of becoming renowned poachers when they reached a prime. To drag out this trap from its hiding, set it, and throw it with billets of wood, which were penetrated by the teeth to the depth of near an inch. As soon as he had examined the trap, and found that the hinges and springs were still perfect, he shouldered it without more ado, and returned with his burden to his own garden, passing on through the hedge to the path immediately outside the boundary. Here by the help of a stout stake he set the trap, and laid it carefully behind a bush while he went forward to reconnoiter. As had been stated, nobody passed this way for days together sometimes. But there was just a possibility that some other pedestrian than the one in request might arrive, and it behooved to Tim to be careful as to the identity of his victim. Going about a hundred yards along the rising ground to the right, he reached a ridge whereon a large and thick holly grew. Beyond this, for some distance, the wood was more open, and the course which its peers must pursue to reach the point, if he came to-night, was visible a long way forward. For some time there was no sign of him or anybody, then there shaped itself a spot out of the dim mid-distance between the masses of brushwood on either hand, and it enlarged, and Tim could hear the brushing of feet over the tufts of sour-grass. The airy gate revealed Fitzpiers even before his exact outline could be seen. Tim Tangs turned about and ran down the opposite side of the hill, till he was again at the head of his own garden. It was the work of a few moments to drag out the man-trap, very gently, that the plate might not be disturbed sufficiently to throw it, to a space between a pair of young oaks, which, rooted in contiguity, grew apart upward, forming a V-shape opening between, and being backed up by bushes, left this as the only course for a foot-passenger. In it he laid the trap with the same gentleness of handling, locked the chain round one of the trees, and finally slid back the guard which was placed to keep the gin from accidentally catching the arms of him who set it, or, to use a local and better word, toiled it. Having completed these arrangements, Tim sprang through the adjoining hedge of his father's garden, ran down the path and softly entered the house. Obedient to his order, Suki had gone to bed, and as soon as he had bolted the door, Tim unlaced and kicked off his boots at the foot of the stairs, and retired likewise, without lighting a candle. His objects seemed to be to undress as soon as possible. Before however he had completed the operation, a long cry resounded without, penetrating, but indescribable. "'What is that?' said Suki, starting up in bed. It sounds as if somebody has caught a hair in his gin. Oh, no!' she said. It was not a hair. It was louder. Hark! "'Do we get to sleep?' said Tim. How be you going to wake at half-past three else?' She lay down and was silent. Tim stealthily opened the window and listened. Above the low harmonies produced by the instrumentation of the various species of trees around the premises he could hear the twitching of a chain from the spot whereon he had set the man-trap, but further human sound there was none. Tim was puzzled. In the haste of his project he had not calculated upon a cry, but if won why not more? He soon ceased to essay an answer, for Hintock was dead to him already. In half a dozen hours he would be out of its precincts for life, on his way to the Antibodes. He closed the window and lay down. The hour which had brought these movements of Tim to Berth had been operating actively elsewhere. Awaiting in our father's house the minute of her appointment with her husband, Grace Fitzpiers deliberated on many things. Should she inform her father before going out that the estrangement of herself in Edgar was not so complete as he had imagined, and deemed desirable for her happiness? If she did, so she must in some measure become the apologist for her husband, and she was not prepared to go that far. As for him, he kept her in a mood of considerate gravity. He certainly had changed. He had, at his worst times, always been gentle in his manner towards her. Could it be that she might make of him a true and worthy husband yet? She had married him. There was no getting over that, and ought she any longer to keep him at a distance. His suave deference to her lightest whim on the question of his comings and goings, when as her husband he might show a little independence, was a trait in his character as unexpected as it was engaging. If she had been his empress, and he the thrall, he could not have exhibited a more sensitive care to avoid intruding upon her against her will. Led by a remembrance, she took down a prayer-book and turned to the marriage-service. Reading it slowly through, she became quite appalled at her recent off-handedness, when she discovered what awfully solemn promise she had made to him, at those chancell steps not so very long ago. She became lost in long ponderings on how far a person's conscience might be bound by vows made without at the time full recognition of their force. That particular sentence beginning, whom God hath joined together, was a stagger for a gentle woman of strong devotional sentiment. She wondered whether God really did join them together. Before she had done deliberating, the time of her engagement drew near, and she went out of the house almost at the moment that Tim Tang's retired to his own. The position of things at that critical juncture was briefly as follows. Two hundred yards to the right of the upper end of Tang's garden Fitzpiers was still advancing, having now nearly reached the summit of the wood-clothed ridge, the path being the actual one which further on passed between the two young oaks. Thus far it was according to Tim's conjecture. But about two hundred yards to the left, or rather less, was arising a condition which he had not divined. The emergence of grace as aforesaid from the upper corner of her father's garden, with the view of meeting Tim's intended victim. Midway between husband and wife was the diabolical trap, silent, open, ready. Fitzpiers's walk that night had been cheerful, for he was convinced that the slow and gentle method he had adopted was promising success. The very restraint that he was obliged to exercise upon himself so as not to kill the delicate bud of returning confidence fed his flame. He walked so much more rapidly than grace that if they continued advancing as they had begun he would reach the trap a good half-minute before she could reach the same spot. But here a new circumstance came in. To escape the unpleasantness of being watched or listened to by lurkers, naturally curious by reason of their strained relations, they had arranged that their meeting for tonight should be at the Hawn tree, on the ridge above named. So soon, accordingly, as Fitzpiers reached the tree, he stood still to await her. He did not pause under a prickly foliage more than two minutes when he thought he heard a scream from the other side of the ridge. Fitzpiers wondered what it could mean, but such wind as there was just now blew in an adverse direction, and his mood was light. He set down the origin of the sound to one of the superstitious freaks or frolics and skirmishes between sweethearts that still survived in Hintock from old English times, and waited on where he stood till ten minutes had passed. Being then a little uneasy, his mind reverted to the scream, and he went over the summit and down the empowered incline, till he reached the pair of sister oaks with the narrow opening between them. Fitzpiers stumbled and all but fell. Stretching out his hand to ascertain the obstruction, it came in contact with a confused mass of silk and drapery and ironwork that conveyed absolutely no explanatory idea to his mind at all. It was but the work of a moment to strike a match, and then he saw a sight which congealed his blood. The mantrap was thrown, and between its jaws was part of a woman's clothing, a patterned silk skirt, gripped in such violence that the iron teat had passed through it, skewering its tissue in a score of places. He immediately recognized the skirt as that of one of his wife's gowns, the gown that she had worn when she met him on the very last occasion. Fitzpiers had often studied the effect of these instruments when examining the collection at Hintock House, and the conception instantly flashed through him that Grace had been caught, taken out mangled by some chance-passer and carried home, some of her clothes being left behind in the difficulty of getting her free. The shock of this conviction, striking into the very current of high hope, was so great that he cried out like one in cup-oreal agony, and in his misery bowed himself down to the ground. Of all the degrees and qualities of punishment that Fitzpiers had undergone since his sins against Grace first began, not any even approximated in intensity to this. "'Oh, my own, my darling, oh, cruel heaven, it is too much this,' he cried, writhing and rocking himself over the sorry accessories of her he adored. The voice of his distress was sufficiently loud to be audible to anyone who might have been there to hear it, and one there was. Right and left of the narrow pass between the oaks were dense bushes, and now from behind these a female figure glided, whose appearance even in the gloom was, though graceful and outline, noticeably strange. She was in white up to the waist, and figured above. She was, in short, Grace, his wife, lacking the portion of her dress which the gin retained. "'Don't be grieved about me, don't, Edgar, dear,' she exclaimed, rushing up and bending over him. I am not hurt a bit. I was coming out to find you after I had released myself, but I heard footsteps and I hid away, because I was without some of my clothing, and I did not know who the person might be.' Fitzpiers had sprung to his feet, and his next act was no less unpremeditated by him than it was irresistible by her, and would have been so by any woman, not of Amazonian strength. He clasped his arms completely around her, pressed her to his breast and kissed her passionately. "'You are not dead. You are not hurt. Thank God! Thank God!' he said, almost sobbing in his delight and relief from the horror of his apprehension. Grace! My wife! My love! How is this? What has happened?' "'I was coming to you,' she said, as distinctly as she could in the half-smothered state of her face against his. I was trying to be as punctual as possible, and as I had started a minute late, I ran along the path very swiftly, fortunately for myself. Just when I passed between the trees I felt something clutch at my dress from behind with a noise, and the next moment I was pulled backward by it and fell to the ground. I screamed with terror, thinking it was a man lying down there to murder me, but the next moment I discovered it was iron, and that my clothes were caught in a trap. I pulled this way and that, but the thing would not let go, drag it as I would, and I did not know what to do. I did not want to allow my father or anybody, as I wished nobody to know of these meetings with you, so I could think of no other plan than slipping off my skirt, meaning to run on and tell you what a strange accident had happened to me. But when I had just freed myself by leaving the dress behind, I heard steps, and not being sure of it with you, I did not like to be seen in such a pickle, so I hid away. There is only your speed that saved you. One or both of your legs would have been broken if you had come at ordinary walking pace. Or yours, if you had got here first, said she, beginning to realize the whole gasiness of the possibility. Oh, Edgar, there has been an eye watching over us tonight, and we should be thankful indeed. He continued to press his face to hers. You are mine, mine again now. She gently owned that she supposed she was. I heard what you said when you thought I was injured. She went on, shyly. And I know that a man who could suffer as you were suffering must have a tender regard for me. But how does his awful thing come here? I suppose it has something to do with poachers. Fitzpiers was still so shaken by the sense of her danger that he was obliged to sit awhile, and it was not until Grave said, if I could only get my skirt out nobody would know anything about it, that he bestirred himself. By their united efforts, each standing on one of the springs of the trap, they pressed him down sufficiently to insert across the jaws a billet which they dragged from a faggot near at hand, and it was then possible to extract the silk mouthful from the monster's bite, creased and pierced with many holes but not torn. Fitzpiers assisted her to put it on again, and when her customary contours were thus restored they walked on together, Grace taking his arm, till he affected an improvement by clasping it around her waist. The ice, having been broken in this unexpected manner, she made no further attempt at reserve. I would ask you to come into the house, she said, but my meetings which you have been kept secret from my father, and I should like to prepare them. Never mind, dearest, I could not very well have accepted the invitation. I shall never live here again, as much for your sake as for mine. I haven't used to tell you on this very point, but my alarm had put it out of my head. I have bought a practice, or rather a partnership, in the midlands, and I must go there in a week to take up my permanent residence. My poor old great aunt died about eight months ago, and left me enough to do this. I have taken a little furnished house for a time, till we can get one of our own. He described the place and the surroundings, and the view from the windows, and Grace became much interested. "'But why are you not there now?' she said. "'Because I cannot tear myself away from here till I have your promise. Now, darling, you will accompany me there, will you not? It has settled that.' Grace's trembling had gone off, and she did not say nay. They went on together. The adventure and the emotions consequent upon the reunion which that event had forced on, combined to render Grace oblivious of the direction of the Dusseltree ramble, till she noticed that they were in an encircling blade in the densest part of the wood, whereon the moon that had imperceptibly added its rays to the scene shone almost vertically. It was an exceptionally soft, balmy evening for the time of year, and it was just that that transient period in the May month, when the beach-trees had suddenly unfolded large, limp, young leaves of the softness of butterflies' wings, boughs bearing such leaves hung low around, and completely enclosed them, so that it was as if they were in a great green vase, which had moss for its bottom and leaf sides. The clouds having been packed in the west that evening so as to retain the departing glare a long while, the hour had seemed much earlier than it was, but suddenly the question of time occurred to her. "'I must go back,' she said without further delay, as they set their faces toward Hintock. As they walked he examined his watch by the aid of the now strong moonlight. "'By the gods, I think I have lost my train,' said Fitzpiers. "'Do me. Whereabouts are we?' said she, two miles in the direction of Sherton. "'Then do hasten on, Edgar. I am not in the least afraid. I recognise now the part of the wood we are in, and I can find my way back quite easily. I'll tell my father we have made it up. I wish I had not kept our meeting so private, for it may vex him a little to know I have been seeing you. He had been getting old and irritable. That is why I did not. Good-bye.' "'But as I must stay at the Earl of Wessex tonight, for I cannot possibly catch the train, I think it would be safer for you to let me take care of you.' "'But what will my father think has become of me? He does not know in the least where I am. He thinks I only went into the garden for a few minutes.' "'He will surely guess. Somebody has seen me for certain. I shall go all the way back with you to-morrow.' "'But that newly done-up place, the Earl of Wessex. If you are so very particular about the publicity, I will stay at the tree-tons. Oh, no! It is not that I am particular, but I don't have a brush, a comb, or anything.' CHAPTER 48 All the evening Melbury had been coming to his door, saying, "'I wonder where in the world that girl is. Never in all my born days did I know where to buy it out like this. Surely she said she was going into the garden, to get some parsley.' Melbury searched the garden, the parsley-bed in the orchard, but could find no trace of her. And then he made inquiries of the cottages of such of his workmen as had not gone to bed, avoiding tangs because he knew the young people would rise early to leave. In these inquiries one of the men's wives somewhat unconsciously let out the fact that she had heard a scream in the wood, though from which direction she could not say. This set Melbury's fears on end. He told the men to light lanterns, and headed by himself they started, creedle, following at the last moment with quite a burden of grapenails and ropes, which he could not be persuaded to leave behind, and the company being joined by the hollow-turner and the man who kept the cider-house as they went along. They explored the precincts of the village, and in a short time lighted upon the man-trap. This discovery simply added an item of fact without helping their conjectures, but Melbury's indefinite alarm was greatly increased when holding a candle to the ground. He saw in the teeth of the instrument some fraying from Grace's clothing. No intelligence of any kind was gained till they met a woodman from Delborough, who said that he had seen a lady answering to the description her father gave of Grace walking through the wood on a gentleman's arm in the direction of Sherton. "'Was he clutching her tight?' said Melbury. "'Well, rather,' said the man. "'Did she walk lame?' "'Well, it is true, her head hung over towards him a bit.' Creedle groaned tragically. Melbury, not suspecting the presence of its peers, coupled this account with the man-trap and the scream. He could not understand what it all meant, but the sinister event of the trap made him follow on. Accordingly they bore away towards the town, shouting as they went, and in due course emerged upon the highway. Nearing Sherton Abbas the previous information was confirmed by other strollers, though the gentleman's supporting arm had disappeared from these later accounts. At last they were so near to Sherton that Melbury informed his faithful followers that he did not wish to drag them farther at so late an hour, since he could go on alone and inquire if the woman who had been seen really were Grace. But they would not leave him alone in his anxiety, and trudged onward till the lamp-light from the town began to illuminate their fronts. At the entrance to the high street they got fresh scent of the pursuit, but coupled with the new condition that the lady in the costume described had been going up the street alone. "'Faith, I believe she's mesmerised, a walkin' in her sleep,' said Melbury. However the identity of this woman with Grace was by no means certain, but they plodded along the street. Percum, the hairdresser who had despoiled Marty of her tresses, was standing at his door, and they duly put enquiries to him. "'Ah, how's a little Hintock folk by now?' he said before replying. Never have I been over there since one winter night, some three years ago, and then I lost myself in finding it. How can you live in such a one-eyed place? A great Hintock is bad enough. But little Hintock, the bats and owls had drive me melancholy mad. It took two days to raise me spirits to their troop hitch again after that night I went there. Mr. Melbury, sir, as a man that's put money by, why not retire and live here and see something of the world?' The responses, at last given by him to their queries, guided him to the building that offered the best accommodation in Sherton, having been in large contemporaneously with the construction of the railway, namely the Earl of Wessex Hotel. Leaving the others without, Melbury made prompt inquiry here. His alarm was lessened, though his perplexity was increased when he received a brief reply that such a lady was in the house. "'Do you know if it's my daughter?' asked Melbury. The waiter did not. "'Do you know the lady's name?' Of this, too, the household was ignorant, though, to hell having been taken by brand new people from a distance. They knew the gentleman very well by sight, and had not thought it necessary to ask him to enter his name. "'Oh, the gentleman appears again now,' said Melbury, to himself. "'Well, I want to see the lady,' he declared. A message was taken up, and after some delay the shape of grace appeared ascending round the bend of the staircase, looking as if she lived there, but in other respects rather guilty and frightened. "'Way, what the name?' began her father. "'I thought you went out to get parsley.' "'Oh, yes, I did. But it is all right,' said Grace in a flurry twisper. "'I am not alone here. I am here with Edgar. It is entirely owing to an accident, father.' "'Edgar? An accident? How does he come here? I thought he was two hundred miles off.' "'Yes, so he is. I mean, he has got a beautiful practice, two hundred miles off. He has bought it with his own money, some that came to him. But he travelled here, and I was nearly caught in a man-trap. And that's how it is I am here. We were just thinking of sending a messenger to let you know.' "'Melbury did not seem to be particularly enlightened by this explanation.' "'He was caught in a man-trap.' "'Yes, my dress was. That's how it arose. He was upstairs in his own sitting-room.' She went on. "'I would not mind seeing you, I am sure.' "'Oh, Faith, I don't want to see him. I have seen him too often already. I'll see him another time, perhaps, if it's to oblige.' "'He came to see me. He wanted to consult me about this large partnership I speak of, as it is very promising.' "'Oh, I am glad to hear it,' said Melbury, dryly. A pause ensued, during which the enquiring faces and whitey-brown clothes of Melbury's companions appeared in the doorway. "'Then paint you coming home with us,' he asked. "'I think not,' said Grace, blushing. "'Ah, very well. You were your own mistress. He returned in tones which seemed to assert otherwise. Good night.' And Melbury retreated towards the door. "'Don't be angry, Father,' she said, following him a few steps. "'I have done it for the best.' "'I am not angry, though it is true I have been a little misled in this. However, good night, I must get home along.' He left the hotel, not without relief, for it to be under the eyes of strangers while he conversed with his lost child had embarrassed him much. His search-party, too, had looked awkward here, having rushed to the task of investigation, some in their short sleeves, others in their leather aprons, and all much stained, just as they had come from their work of barking, and not under certain marketing attire, while Creadle, with his robes and drapnels and air of impending tragedy, had added melancholy to gawkiness. "'Now, neighbours,' said Melbury, and joining them, "'as it is getting late, we'll leg it home again as fast as we can. I ought to tell you that there has been some mistake, some arrangement entered into between Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpiers which I didn't quite understand. An important practice in the Midland Count, he says, come to him, which made it necessary for her to join him to-night. So she says, "'That's all it was, and I'm sorry I dragged you out.'" "'Well,' said the hollow-turner, "'here be we six miles from home, and night-time, and not a house our four-foot-creeping thing to our name. I say we'll have a muscle, and a drop of summit, to strengthen our nears before we vamp all the way back again. My trouts is dry as a kex. What do you say, sirs?' They all concurred in the need for this course, and proceeded to the antique and lampless back-street in which the red curtain of the tree-tons was the only radiant object. As soon as they had stumbled down into the room, Melbury ordered them to be served, when they made themselves comfortable by the long table, and stretched out their legs upon the herring-bone sand of the floor. Melbury himself, restless as usual, walked to the door while he waited for them, and looked up and down the street. "'I'd gear a good shake if you were my maid, pretendin' to go out in the garden, and leadin' folk a twelve-mile traipse that I've got to get up at five o'clock to-morrow,' said a bark-ripper who, not working regularly for Melbury, could afford to indulge in strong opinions. "'I don't speak so warm as that,' said the hollow-turner, but if to drive a couples to make a country-talk about their separatin' and excite the neighbours, and then make fools of them like this, why I haven't stood upon one leg for five and twenty-year.' All his listeners knew that when he alluded to his footlade, in these enigmatic terms, the speaker meant to be impressive, and Creadle chimed in with, "'Ah, young women do wax-wantin' in these days. Why couldn't she abound with her father, and been fateful?' Poor Creadle was thinking of his old employer. "'But this deceivin' a folks, is not an unusual ematrimony,' said Farmer Bartrey. "'I know the man and a wife, Faith, I don't mind ownin' as there's no strangers here, that the pair were my own relations. They'd be at it that hot one hour that you'd hear the poker and the tongs and the bellows and the warm-and-pan flee across the house with the movements of their vengeance, and the next hour you'd hear them singin' this spotted cow together, as peaceable as two holy twins. Yes, and very good voices they had, and what strike in like professional ballad-singers to one another's support in the high notes.' "'And I know the woman, and the husband the whole went away for four and twenty year,' said the bark-ripper, and one night he came home when she was sittin' by the fire, and thereupon he sat down himself on the other side in the chimney-corner. "'Well,' says she, "'have any news?' "'We don't know as I have, says he. Have you?' "'No, says she, except that my daughter by my second husband was married last month, which was a year after I was made a widow by him.' "'Oh, anything else, says he?' "'No,' says she. And there they sat, one on each side of the chimney-corner, and were found by the neighbours sound asleep in their chairs, not havin' known what to talk about at all. "'Well, I don't care who the man is,' said Creedle. "'They required a good deal to talk about, and that's true. It won't be the same with these. He's such a project, you see, and she's such a wonderful scholar, too.' "'What women do know nowadays,' observed the hollow-corner, "'ye can't deceive them as ye could do in my time.' "'What they know then was not small,' said John Up John, "'always a good deal more than the men. Why, when I was caught in my wife that is now, the skillfulness that she would show in keeping me on her pretty side as she walked was beyond all belief. Perhaps ye've noticed that she's got a pretty side to her face, as well as a plain one.' "'Ey, can't say I've noticed it in particular much,' said the hollow-corner, blandly. "'Well,' continued Up John, not disconcerted, she has. "'All women under the sun be pretty on one side and other. And as I was sayin', the pain she would take to make me walk on her pretty side were unending. I warn't that whether she were going with the sun or against the sun, or pale or downhill, in the wind or the lute, that wart of hers was always toward a hedge, and that dimple towards me. There was I, too simple to see her wheelings and tornons, and she so artful, though two years younger, that she could lead me with a cotton thread like a blind ram, for that was in the toward climate of our courtship. No, I don't think women have got cleverer, for there was never otherwise.' "'How many climates may there be in courtship, Mr. Up John?' inquired a youth, the same who had assisted at Winterborne's Christmas party. "'Five, from the coldest to the hottest. At least there was five in mine.' "'Can you give us the chronicle of them, Mr. Up John?' "'Yes, I could. I could certainly. But it's quite unnecessary. They'll come to you by night, young man, too soon for your own good.' "'At present Mrs. Fitzpiers can lead the doctor, as your Mrs. could lead you,' the hollow turner remarked. She's got him quite tame. But how long till last I can't say? I happened to be settin' a wire in the top of my garden one night, when he met her on the other side of the hedge, and the way she queened it and fenced and kept that poor fellow at a distance was enough to freeze your blood, I should never suppose that of such a girl.' Melbury now returned into the room, and the men having declared themselves refreshed. They all started on the homeward journey, which was by no means cheerless under the rays of the high moon. Having to walk the whole distance, they came by a footpath rather shorter than the highway, though difficult except to those who knew the country well. This brought them by way of great hintock, and passing the churchyard they observed as they walked, a motionless figure, standing by the gate. "'I think it was Marty South,' said the hollow turner, parenthetically. "'I think it was. It was always a lonely maid,' said up John, and they passed on homeward and thought of the matter no more.' It was Marty, as they had supposed. That evening had been a particular one of the week upon which Grace and herself had been accustomed to privately deposit flowers on Giles's grave. And this was the first occasion since his death, eight months earlier, on which Grace had failed to keep her appointment. Marty had waited in the road just outside Little Hintock, where her fellow pilgrim had been want to join her, till she was weary. And at last, thinking that Grace had missed her and gone on alone, she followed the way to Great Hintock, but saw no Grace in front of her. It got later, and Marty continued her walk till she reached the churchyard gate, but still no Grace. Yet her sense of comradeship would not allow her to go on to the grave alone, and still thinking the delay had been unavoidable, she stood there with her little basket of flowers in her class tans, and her feet chilled by the damp ground till more than two hours had passed. She then heard the footsteps of Melbury's men, who presently passed on the return from the search. In the silence of the night Marty could not help hearing fragments of her conversation, from which she acquired a general idea of what had occurred, and where Mrs. Fitzpiers then was. Immediately they had dropped down the hill, she entered the churchyard, going to a secluded corner behind the bushes, where rose the unadorned stone that marked the last bed of Giles Winterborne. As this solitary and silent girl stood there in the moonlight, a straight, slim figure, clothed in a plattless gown, the contours of womanhood so undeveloped as to be scarcely perceptible, the marks of poverty and toil effaced by the misty hour, she touched sublimity at points, and looked almost like a being who had rejected with indifference the attribute of sex for the loftier quality of abstract humanism. She stooped down, and cleared away the withered flowers that Grace had herself laid there the previous week, and put her fresh ones in their place. Now my own own love, she whispered, you are mine and only mine, for she has forgotten you at last, although for her you died. But I, whenever I get up, I'll think of you, and whenever I lay down, I'll think of you. Whenever I plant the young larches, I'll think that none can ever plant as you planted, and whenever I split a gad, and whenever I turn the side of a ring, I'll say no one could do it like you. If I ever forget your name, let me forget home and heaven. But no, no, my love, I can never forget you, for you was a good man, and did good things.