d be
driven in the gig to Sherton market, whither Melbury's man was going on
other errands. Grace had no business whatever in Sherton; but it
crossed her mind that Winterborne would probably be there, and this
made the thought of such a drive interesting.

On the way she saw nothing of him; but when the horse was walking
slowly through the obstructions of Sheep Street, she discerned the
young man on the pavement. She thought of that time when he had been
standing under his apple-tree on her return from school, and of the
tender opportunity then missed through her fastidiousness. Her heart
rose in her throat. She abjured all such fastidiousness now. Nor did
she forget the last occasion on which she had beheld him in that town,
making cider in the court-yard of the Earl of Wessex Hotel, while she
was figuring as a fine lady in the balcony above.

Grace directed the man to set her down there in the midst, and
immediately went up to her lover. Giles had not before observed her,
and his eyes now suppressedly looked his pleasure, without the
embarrassment that had formerly marked him at such meetings.

When a few words had been spoken, she said, archly, "I have nothing to
do. Perhaps you are deeply engaged?"

"I? Not a bit. My business now at the best of times is small, I am
sorry to say."

"Well, then, I am going into the Abbey. Come along with me."

The proposition had suggested itself as a quick escape from publicity,
for many eyes were regarding her. She had hoped that sufficient time
had elapsed for the extinction of curiosity; but it was quite
otherwise. The people looked at her with tender interest as the
deserted girl-wife--without obtrusiveness, and without vulgarity; but
she was ill prepared for scrutiny in any shape.

They walked about the Abbey aisles, and presently sat down. Not a soul
was in the building save themselves. She regarded a stained window,
with her head sideways, and tentatively asked him if he remembered the
last time they were in that town alone.

He remembered it perfectly, and remarked, "You were a proud miss then,
and as dainty as you were high. Perhaps you are now?"

Grace slowly shook her head. "Affliction has taken all that out of
me," she answered, impressively. "Perhaps I am too far the other way
now." As there was something lurking in this that she could not
explain, she added, so quickly as not to allow him time to think of it,
"Has my father written to you at a