ry with himself for his feebleness--he who had been so
strong. It was imperative that she should know nothing of his present
state, and to do that she must not see his face by daylight, for its
color would inevitably betray him.

The next morning, accordingly, when it was hardly light, he rose and
dragged his stiff limbs about the precincts, preparing for her
everything she could require for getting breakfast within. On the
bench outside the window-sill he placed water, wood, and other
necessaries, writing with a piece of chalk beside them, "It is best
that I should not see you. Put my breakfast on the bench."

At seven o'clock he tapped at her window, as he had promised,
retreating at once, that she might not catch sight of him. But from
his shelter under the boughs he could see her very well, when, in
response to his signal, she opened the window and the light fell upon
her face. The languid largeness of her eyes showed that her sleep had
been little more than his own, and the pinkness of their lids, that her
waking hours had not been free from tears.

She read the writing, seemed, he thought, disappointed, but took up the
materials he had provided, evidently thinking him some way off. Giles
waited on, assured that a girl who, in spite of her culture, knew what
country life was, would find no difficulty in the simple preparation of
their food.

Within the cot it was all very much as he conjectured, though Grace had
slept much longer than he. After the loneliness of the night, she
would have been glad to see him; but appreciating his feeling when she
read the writing, she made no attempt to recall him. She found
abundance of provisions laid in, his plan being to replenish his
buttery weekly, and this being the day after the victualling van had
called from Sherton. When the meal was ready, she put what he required
outside, as she had done with the supper; and, notwithstanding her
longing to see him, withdrew from the window promptly, and left him to
himself.

It had been a leaden dawn, and the rain now steadily renewed its fall.
As she heard no more of Winterborne, she concluded that he had gone
away to his daily work, and forgotten that he had promised to accompany
her to Sherton; an erroneous conclusion, for he remained all day, by
force of his condition, within fifty yards of where she was. The
morning wore on; and in her doubt when to start, and how to travel, she
lingered yet, keeping the door caref