you know, as
his years and infirmities increase, that he will wish to see us a
little advanced when he comes. That is my only excuse."

To Winterborne all this was sadder than it was sweet. How could she so
trust her father's conjectures? He did not know how to tell her the
truth and shame himself. And yet he felt that it must be done. "We
may have been wrong," he began, almost fearfully, "in supposing that it
can all be carried out while we stay here at Hintock. I am not sure
but that people may have to appear in a public court even under the new
Act; and if there should be any difficulty, and we cannot marry after
all--"

Her cheeks became slowly bloodless. "Oh, Giles," she said, grasping
his arm, "you have heard something! What--cannot my father conclude it
there and now? Surely he has done it? Oh, Giles, Giles, don't deceive
me. What terrible position am I in?"

He could not tell her, try as he would. The sense of her implicit
trust in his honor absolutely disabled him. "I cannot inform you," he
murmured, his voice as husky as that of the leaves underfoot. "Your
father will soon be here. Then we shall know. I will take you home."

Inexpressibly dear as she was to him, he offered her his arm with the
most reserved air, as he added, correctingly, "I will take you, at any
rate, into the drive."

Thus they walked on together. Grace vibrating between happiness and
misgiving. It was only a few minutes' walk to where the drive ran, and
they had hardly descended into it when they heard a voice behind them
cry, "Take out that arm!"

For a moment they did not heed, and the voice repeated, more loudly and
hoarsely,

"Take out that arm!"

It was Melbury's. He had returned sooner than they expected, and now
came up to them. Grace's hand had been withdrawn like lightning on her
hearing the second command. "I don't blame you--I don't blame you,"
he said, in the weary cadence of one broken down with scourgings. "But
you two must walk together no more--I have been surprised--I have been
cruelly deceived--Giles, don't say anything to me; but go away!"

He was evidently not aware that Winterborne had known the truth before
he brought it; and Giles would not stay to discuss it with him then.
When the young man had gone Melbury took his daughter in-doors to the
room he used as his office. There he sat down, and bent over the slope
of the bureau, her bewildered gaze fixed upon him.

When Melbury had recove