g--was a threatening development. The
mere presence of Fitzpiers in the building, after his statement, was
wellnigh conclusive as far as he was concerned; but Melbury resolved
yet to watch.

He had to wait long. Autumn drew shiveringly to its end. One day
something seemed to be gone from the gardens; the tenderer leaves of
vegetables had shrunk under the first smart frost, and hung like faded
linen rags; then the forest leaves, which had been descending at
leisure, descended in haste and in multitudes, and all the golden
colors that had hung overhead were now crowded together in a degraded
mass underfoot, where the fallen myriads got redder and hornier, and
curled themselves up to rot. The only suspicious features in Mrs.
Charmond's existence at this season were two: the first, that she lived
with no companion or relative about her, which, considering her age and
attractions, was somewhat unusual conduct for a young widow in a lonely
country-house; the other, that she did not, as in previous years,
start from Hintock to winter abroad. In Fitzpiers, the only change
from his last autumn's habits lay in his abandonment of night
study--his lamp never shone from his new dwelling as from his old.

If the suspected ones met, it was by such adroit contrivances that even
Melbury's vigilance could not encounter them together. A simple call
at her house by the doctor had nothing irregular about it, and that he
had paid two or three such calls was certain. What had passed at those
interviews was known only to the parties themselves; but that Felice
Charmond was under some one's influence Melbury soon had opportunity of
perceiving.

Winter had come on. Owls began to be noisy in the mornings and
evenings, and flocks of wood-pigeons made themselves prominent again.
One day in February, about six months after the marriage of Fitzpiers,
Melbury was returning from Great Hintock on foot through the lane, when
he saw before him the surgeon also walking. Melbury would have
overtaken him, but at that moment Fitzpiers turned in through a gate to
one of the rambling drives among the trees at this side of the wood,
which led to nowhere in particular, and the beauty of whose serpentine
curves was the only justification of their existence. Felice almost
simultaneously trotted down the lane towards the timber-dealer, in a
little basket-carriage which she sometimes drove about the estate,
unaccompanied by a servant. She turned in at the