ut I fear I cannot," she said, sighing again.

"I wonder if you ever will?" He looked musingly into her indistinct
face, as if he would read the future there. "Now have pity, and tell
me: will you try?"

"To love you again?"

"Yes; if you can."

"I don't know how to reply," she answered, her embarrassment proving
her truth. "Will you promise to leave me quite free as to seeing you
or not seeing you?"

"Certainly. Have I given any ground for you to doubt my first promise
in that respect?"

She was obliged to admit that he had not.

"Then I think that you might get your heart out of that grave," said
he, with playful sadness. "It has been there a long time."

She faintly shook her head, but said, "I'll try to think of you
more--if I can."

With this Fitzpiers was compelled to be satisfied, and he asked her
when she would meet him again.

"As we arranged--in a fortnight."

"If it must be a fortnight it must!"

"This time at least. I'll consider by the day I see you again if I can
shorten the interval."

"Well, be that as it may, I shall come at least twice a week to look at
your window."

"You must do as you like about that. Good-night."

"Say 'husband.'"

She seemed almost inclined to give him the word; but exclaiming, "No,
no; I cannot," slipped through the garden-hedge and disappeared.

Fitzpiers did not exaggerate when he told her that he should haunt the
precincts of the dwelling. But his persistence in this course did not
result in his seeing her much oftener than at the fortnightly interval
which she had herself marked out as proper. At these times, however,
she punctually appeared, and as the spring wore on the meetings were
kept up, though their character changed but little with the increase in
their number.

The small garden of the cottage occupied by the Tangs family--father,
son, and now son's wife--aligned with the larger one of the
timber-dealer at its upper end; and when young Tim, after leaving work
at Melbury's, stood at dusk in the little bower at the corner of his
enclosure to smoke a pipe, he frequently observed the surgeon pass
along the outside track before-mentioned. Fitzpiers always walked
loiteringly, pensively, looking with a sharp eye into the gardens one
after another as he proceeded; for Fitzpiers did not wish to leave the
now absorbing spot too quickly, after travelling so far to reach it;
hoping always for a glimpse of her whom he passionately desired to tak