most
sinister to a stranger, but to her it was what she sought. She pushed
forward, and the dim outline of a dwelling was disclosed.

The house was a square cot of one story only, sloping up on all sides
to a chimney in the midst. It had formerly been the home of a
charcoal-burner, in times when that fuel was still used in the county
houses. Its only appurtenance was a paled enclosure, there being no
garden, the shade of the trees preventing the growth of vegetables.
She advanced to the window whence the rays of light proceeded, and the
shutters being as yet unclosed, she could survey the whole interior
through the panes.

The room within was kitchen, parlor, and scullery all in one; the
natural sandstone floor was worn into hills and dales by long treading,
so that none of the furniture stood level, and the table slanted like a
desk. A fire burned on the hearth, in front of which revolved the
skinned carcass of a rabbit, suspended by a string from a nail.
Leaning with one arm on the mantle-shelf stood Winterborne, his eyes on
the roasting animal, his face so rapt that speculation could build
nothing on it concerning his thoughts, more than that they were not
with the scene before him. She thought his features had changed a
little since she saw them last. The fire-light did not enable her to
perceive that they were positively haggard.

Grace's throat emitted a gasp of relief at finding the result so nearly
as she had hoped. She went to the door and tapped lightly.

He seemed to be accustomed to the noises of woodpeckers, squirrels, and
such small creatures, for he took no notice of her tiny signal, and she
knocked again. This time he came and opened the door. When the light
of the room fell upon her face he started, and, hardly knowing what he
did, crossed the threshold to her, placing his hands upon her two arms,
while surprise, joy, alarm, sadness, chased through him by turns. With
Grace it was the same: even in this stress there was the fond fact that
they had met again. Thus they stood,

"Long tears upon their faces, waxen white
With extreme sad delight."

He broke the silence by saying in a whisper, "Come in."

"No, no, Giles!" she answered, hurriedly, stepping yet farther back
from the door. "I am passing by--and I have called on you--I won't
enter. Will you help me? I am afraid. I want to get by a roundabout
way to Sherton, and so to Exbury. I have a school-fellow there--but I