The Woodlanders

Grace, however, was no specialist in men's manners, and she admired the

sentiment without thinking of the form. And she was embarrassed:

"lovely creature" made explanation awkward to her gentle modesty.

"But can it be," said he, suddenly, "that you really were here?"

"I have to confess that I have been in the room once before," faltered

she. "The woman showed me in, and went away to fetch you; but as she

did not return, I left."

"And you saw me asleep," he murmured, with the faintest show of

humiliation.

"Yes--IF you were asleep, and did not deceive me."

"Why do you say if?"

"I saw your eyes open in the glass, but as they were closed when I

looked round upon you, I thought you were perhaps deceiving me.

"Never," said Fitzpiers, fervently--"never could I deceive you."

Foreknowledge to the distance of a year or so in either of them might

have spoiled the effect of that pretty speech. Never deceive her! But

they knew nothing, and the phrase had its day.

Grace began now to be anxious to terminate the interview, but the

compelling power of Fitzpiers's atmosphere still held her there. She

was like an inexperienced actress who, having at last taken up her

position on the boards, and spoken her speeches, does not know how to

move off. The thought of Grammer occurred to her. "I'll go at once

and tell poor Grammer of your generosity," she said. "It will relieve

her at once."

"Grammer's a nervous disease, too--how singular!" he answered,

accompanying her to the door. "One moment; look at this--it is

something which may interest you."

He had thrown open the door on the other side of the passage, and she

saw a microscope on the table of the confronting room. "Look into it,

please; you'll be interested," he repeated.

She applied her eye, and saw the usual circle of light patterned all

over with a cellular tissue of some indescribable sort. "What do you

think that is?" said Fitzpiers.

She did not know.

"That's a fragment of old John South's brain, which I am investigating."

She started back, not with aversion, but with wonder as to how it

should have got there. Fitzpiers laughed.

"Here am I," he said, "endeavoring to carry on simultaneously the study

of physiology and transcendental philosophy, the material world and the

ideal, so as to discover if possible a point of contrast between them;

and your finer sense is quite offended!"