better.
According to Schleiermacher they are Self-control, Perseverance,
Wisdom, and Love; and his is the best list that I know."

"I am afraid poor--" She was going to say that she feared
Winterborne--the giver of the purse years before--had not much
perseverance, though he had all the other three; but she determined to
go no further in this direction, and was silent.

These half-revelations made a perceptible difference in Fitzpiers. His
sense of personal superiority wasted away, and Grace assumed in his
eyes the true aspect of a mistress in her lover's regard.

"Miss Melbury," he said, suddenly, "I divine that this virtuous man you
mention has been refused by you?"

She could do no otherwise than admit it.

"I do not inquire without good reason. God forbid that I should kneel
in another's place at any shrine unfairly. But, my dear Miss Melbury,
now that he is gone, may I draw near?"

"I--I can't say anything about that!" she cried, quickly. "Because when
a man has been refused you feel pity for him, and like him more than
you did before."

This increasing complication added still more value to Grace in the
surgeon's eyes: it rendered her adorable. "But cannot you say?" he
pleaded, distractedly.

"I'd rather not--I think I must go home at once."

"Oh yes," said Fitzpiers. But as he did not move she felt it awkward
to walk straight away from him; and so they stood silently together. A
diversion was created by the accident of two birds, that had either
been roosting above their heads or nesting there, tumbling one over the
other into the hot ashes at their feet, apparently engrossed in a
desperate quarrel that prevented the use of their wings. They speedily
parted, however, and flew up, and were seen no more.

"That's the end of what is called love!" said some one.

The speaker was neither Grace nor Fitzpiers, but Marty South, who
approached with her face turned up to the sky in her endeavor to trace
the birds. Suddenly perceiving Grace, she exclaimed, "Oh, Miss
Melbury! I have been following they pigeons, and didn't see you. And
here's Mr. Winterborne!" she continued, shyly, as she looked towards
Fitzpiers, who stood in the background.

"Marty," Grace interrupted. "I want you to walk home with me--will
you? Come along." And without lingering longer she took hold of Marty's
arm and led her away.

They went between the spectral arms of the peeled trees as they lay,
and onward among the growing t