The Woodlanders

"I cannot attempt to reply to your raving eloquence," returned the

other, struggling to restore a dignity which had completely collapsed.

"My acts will be my proofs. In the world which you have seen nothing

of, friendships between men and women are not unknown, and it would

have been better both for you and your father if you had each judged me

more respectfully, and left me alone. As it is I wish never to see or

speak to you, madam, any more."

Grace bowed, and Mrs. Charmond turned away. The two went apart in

directly opposite courses, and were soon hidden from each other by

their umbrageous surroundings and by the shadows of eve.

In the excitement of their long argument they had walked onward and

zigzagged about without regarding direction or distance. All sound of

the woodcutters had long since faded into remoteness, and even had not

the interval been too great for hearing them they would have been

silent and homeward bound at this twilight hour. But Grace went on her

course without any misgiving, though there was much underwood here,

with only the narrowest passages for walking, across which brambles

hung. She had not, however, traversed this the wildest part of the

wood since her childhood, and the transformation of outlines had been

great; old trees which once were landmarks had been felled or blown

down, and the bushes which then had been small and scrubby were now

large and overhanging. She soon found that her ideas as to direction

were vague--that she had indeed no ideas as to direction at all. If

the evening had not been growing so dark, and the wind had not put on

its night moan so distinctly, Grace would not have minded; but she was

rather frightened now, and began to strike across hither and thither in

random courses.

Denser grew the darkness, more developed the wind-voices, and still no

recognizable spot or outlet of any kind appeared, nor any sound of the

Hintocks floated near, though she had wandered probably between one and

two hours, and began to be weary. She was vexed at her foolishness,

since the ground she had covered, if in a straight line, must

inevitably have taken her out of the wood to some remote village or

other; but she had wasted her forces in countermarches; and now, in

much alarm, wondered if she would have to pass the night here. She

stood still to meditate, and fancied that between the soughing of the

wind she heard shuffling footsteps on the leaves heavier than those of

rabbits or hares. Though fearing at first to meet anybody on the chance

of his being a friend, she decided that the fellow night-rambler, even

if a poacher, would not injure her, and that he might possibly be some

one sent to search for her. She accordingly shouted a rather timid

"Hoi!"