The Woodlanders

Fitzpiers's mental sufferings and suspense led him at last to take a

melancholy journey to the neighborhood of Little Hintock; and here he

hovered for hours around the scene of the purest emotional experiences

that he had ever known in his life. He walked about the woods that

surrounded Melbury's house, keeping out of sight like a criminal. It

was a fine evening, and on his way homeward he passed near Marty

South's cottage. As usual she had lighted her candle without closing

her shutters; he saw her within as he had seen her many times before.

She was polishing tools, and though he had not wished to show himself,

he could not resist speaking in to her through the half-open door.

"What are you doing that for, Marty?"

"Because I want to clean them. They are not mine." He could see,

indeed, that they were not hers, for one was a spade, large and heavy,

and another was a bill-hook which she could only have used with both

hands. The spade, though not a new one, had been so completely

burnished that it was bright as silver.

Fitzpiers somehow divined that they were Giles Winterborne's, and he

put the question to her.

She replied in the affirmative. "I am going to keep 'em," she said,

"but I can't get his apple-mill and press. I wish could; it is going

to be sold, they say."

"Then I will buy it for you," said Fitzpiers. "That will be making you

a return for a kindness you did me." His glance fell upon the girl's

rare-colored hair, which had grown again. "Oh, Marty, those locks of

yours--and that letter! But it was a kindness to send it,

nevertheless," he added, musingly.

After this there was confidence between them--such confidence as there

had never been before. Marty was shy, indeed, of speaking about the

letter, and her motives in writing it; but she thanked him warmly for

his promise of the cider-press. She would travel with it in the autumn

season, as he had done, she said. She would be quite strong enough,

with old Creedle as an assistant.

"Ah! there was one nearer to him than you," said Fitzpiers, referring

to Winterborne. "One who lived where he lived, and was with him when

he died."

Then Marty, suspecting that he did not know the true circumstances,

from the fact that Mrs. Fitzpiers and himself were living apart, told

him of Giles's generosity to Grace in giving up his house to her at the

risk, and possibly the sacrifice, of his own life. When the surgeon

heard it he almost envied Giles his chivalrous character. He expressed

a wish to Marty that his visit to her should be kept secret, and went

home thoughtful, feeling that in more that one sense his journey to

Hintock had not been in vain.