The Woodlanders

"One thing made it tolerable to us that your husband should come back

to the house," said Melbury at last--"the death of Mrs. Charmond."

"Ah, yes," said Grace, arousing slightly to the recollection, "he told

me so."

"Did he tell you how she died? It was no such death as Giles's. She

was shot--by a disappointed lover. It occurred in Germany. The

unfortunate man shot himself afterwards. He was that South Carolina

gentleman of very passionate nature who used to haunt this place to

force her to an interview, and followed her about everywhere. So ends

the brilliant Felice Charmond--once a good friend to me--but no friend

to you."

"I can forgive her," said Grace, absently. "Did Edgar tell you of

this?"

"No; but he put a London newspaper, giving an account of it, on the

hall table, folded in such a way that we should see it. It will be in

the Sherton paper this week, no doubt. To make the event more solemn

still to him, he had just before had sharp words with her, and left

her. He told Lucy this, as nothing about him appears in the newspaper.

And the cause of the quarrel was, of all people, she we've left behind

us."

"Do you mean Marty?" Grace spoke the words but perfunctorily. For,

pertinent and pointed as Melbury's story was, she had no heart for it

now.

"Yes. Marty South." Melbury persisted in his narrative, to divert her

from her present grief, if possible. "Before he went away she wrote

him a letter, which he kept in his, pocket a long while before reading.

He chanced to pull it out in Mrs. Charmond's, presence, and read it out

loud. It contained something which teased her very much, and that led

to the rupture. She was following him to make it up when she met with

her terrible death."

Melbury did not know enough to give the gist of the incident, which was

that Marty South's letter had been concerning a certain personal

adornment common to herself and Mrs. Charmond. Her bullet reached its

billet at last. The scene between Fitzpiers and Felice had been sharp,

as only a scene can be which arises out of the mortification of one

woman by another in the presence of a lover. True, Marty had not

effected it by word of mouth; the charge about the locks of hair was

made simply by Fitzpiers reading her letter to him aloud to Felice in

the playfully ironical tones of one who had become a little weary of

his situation, and was finding his friend, in the phrase of George

Herbert, a "flat delight." He had stroked those false tresses with his

hand many a time without knowing them to be transplanted, and it was

impossible when the discovery was so abruptly made to avoid being

finely satirical, despite her generous disposition.