heap, which thereupon burst into
a flame. On looking around by the light thus obtained she for the
first time saw the illumined face of Fitzpiers, precisely in the spot
where she had left him.

Grace gave a start and a scream: the place had been associated with him
in her thoughts, but she had not expected to find him there still.
Fitzpiers lost not a moment in rising and going to her side.

"I frightened you dreadfully, I know," he said. "I ought to have
spoken; but I did not at first expect it to be you. I have been
sitting here ever since."

He was actually supporting her with his arm, as though under the
impression that she was quite overcome, and in danger of falling. As
soon as she could collect her ideas she gently withdrew from his grasp,
and explained what she had returned for: in getting up or down from the
gig, or when sitting by the hut fire, she had dropped her purse.

"Now we will find it," said Fitzpiers.

He threw an armful of last year's leaves on to the fire, which made the
flame leap higher, and the encompassing shades to weave themselves into
a denser contrast, turning eve into night in a moment. By this
radiance they groped about on their hands and knees, till Fitzpiers
rested on his elbow, and looked at Grace. "We must always meet in odd
circumstances," he said; "and this is one of the oddest. I wonder if
it means anything?"

"Oh no, I am sure it doesn't," said Grace in haste, quickly assuming an
erect posture. "Pray don't say it any more."

"I hope there was not much money in the purse," said Fitzpiers, rising
to his feet more slowly, and brushing the leaves from his trousers.

"Scarcely any. I cared most about the purse itself, because it was
given me. Indeed, money is of little more use at Hintock than on
Crusoe's island; there's hardly any way of spending it."

They had given up the search when Fitzpiers discerned something by his
foot. "Here it is," he said, "so that your father, mother, friend, or
ADMIRER will not have his or her feelings hurt by a sense of your
negligence after all."

"Oh, he knows nothing of what I do now."

"The admirer?" said Fitzpiers, slyly.

"I don't know if you would call him that," said Grace, with simplicity.
"The admirer is a superficial, conditional creature, and this person is
quite different."

"He has all the cardinal virtues."

"Perhaps--though I don't know them precisely."

"You unconsciously practise them, Miss Melbury, which is