The Woodlanders

Fitzpiers had hardly been gone an hour when Grace began to sicken. The

next day she kept her room. Old Jones was called in; he murmured some

statements in which the words "feverish symptoms" occurred. Grace

heard them, and guessed the means by which she had brought this

visitation upon herself.

One day, while she still lay there with her head throbbing, wondering

if she were really going to join him who had gone before, Grammer

Oliver came to her bedside. "I don't know whe'r this is meant for you

to take, ma'am," she said, "but I have found it on the table. It was

left by Marty, I think, when she came this morning."

Grace turned her hot eyes upon what Grammer held up. It was the phial

left at the hut by her husband when he had begged her to take some

drops of its contents if she wished to preserve herself from falling a

victim to the malady which had pulled down Winterborne. She examined

it as well as she could. The liquid was of an opaline hue, and bore a

label with an inscription in Italian. He had probably got it in his

wanderings abroad. She knew but little Italian, but could understand

that the cordial was a febrifuge of some sort. Her father, her mother,

and all the household were anxious for her recovery, and she resolved

to obey her husband's directions. Whatever the risk, if any, she was

prepared to run it. A glass of water was brought, and the drops

dropped in.

The effect, though not miraculous, was remarkable. In less than an

hour she felt calmer, cooler, better able to reflect--less inclined to

fret and chafe and wear herself away. She took a few drops more. From

that time the fever retreated, and went out like a damped conflagration.

"How clever he is!" she said, regretfully. "Why could he not have had

more principle, so as to turn his great talents to good account?

Perhaps he has saved my useless life. But he doesn't know it, and

doesn't care whether he has saved it or not; and on that account will

never be told by me! Probably he only gave it to me in the arrogance of

his skill, to show the greatness of his resources beside mine, as

Elijah drew down fire from heaven."

As soon as she had quite recovered from this foiled attack upon her

life, Grace went to Marty South's cottage. The current of her being

had again set towards the lost Giles Winterborne.

"Marty," she said, "we both loved him. We will go to his grave

together."