u might not appeal to
her in vain."

"It shall be done," said Melbury, rising. "For good or for evil, to
Mrs. Charmond I'll go."

CHAPTER XXXII.

At nine o'clock the next morning Melbury dressed himself up in shining
broadcloth, creased with folding and smelling of camphor, and started
for Hintock House. He was the more impelled to go at once by the
absence of his son-in-law in London for a few days, to attend, really
or ostensibly, some professional meetings. He said nothing of his
destination either to his wife or to Grace, fearing that they might
entreat him to abandon so risky a project, and went out unobserved. He
had chosen his time with a view, as he supposed, of conveniently
catching Mrs. Charmond when she had just finished her breakfast, before
any other business people should be about, if any came. Plodding
thoughtfully onward, he crossed a glade lying between Little Hintock
Woods and the plantation which abutted on the park; and the spot being
open, he was discerned there by Winterborne from the copse on the next
hill, where he and his men were working. Knowing his mission, the
younger man hastened down from the copse and managed to intercept the
timber-merchant.

"I have been thinking of this, sir," he said, "and I am of opinion that
it would be best to put off your visit for the present."

But Melbury would not even stop to hear him. His mind was made up, the
appeal was to be made; and Winterborne stood and watched him sadly till
he entered the second plantation and disappeared.

Melbury rang at the tradesmen's door of the manor-house, and was at
once informed that the lady was not yet visible, as indeed he might
have guessed had he been anybody but the man he was. Melbury said he
would wait, whereupon the young man informed him in a neighborly way
that, between themselves, she was in bed and asleep.

"Never mind," said Melbury, retreating into the court, "I'll stand
about here." Charged so fully with his mission, he shrank from contact
with anybody.

But he walked about the paved court till he was tired, and still nobody
came to him. At last he entered the house and sat down in a small
waiting-room, from which he got glimpses of the kitchen corridor, and
of the white-capped maids flitting jauntily hither and thither. They
had heard of his arrival, but had not seen him enter, and, imagining
him still in the court, discussed freely the possible reason of his
calling. They marvelled a