e
to his arms anew.

Now Tim began to be struck with these loitering progresses along the
garden boundaries in the gloaming, and wondered what they boded. It
was, naturally, quite out of his power to divine the singular,
sentimental revival in Fitzpiers's heart; the fineness of tissue which
could take a deep, emotional--almost also an artistic--pleasure in
being the yearning inamorato of a woman he once had deserted, would
have seemed an absurdity to the young sawyer. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpiers
were separated; therefore the question of affection as between them was
settled. But his Suke had, since that meeting on their marriage-day,
repentantly admitted, to the urgency of his questioning, a good deal
concerning her past levities. Putting all things together, he could
hardly avoid connecting Fitzpiers's mysterious visits to this spot with
Suke's residence under his roof. But he made himself fairly easy: the
vessel in which they were about to emigrate sailed that month; and then
Suke would be out of Fitzpiers's way forever.

The interval at last expired, and the eve of their departure arrived.
They were pausing in the room of the cottage allotted to them by Tim's
father, after a busy day of preparation, which left them weary. In a
corner stood their boxes, crammed and corded, their large case for the
hold having already been sent away. The firelight shone upon Suke's
fine face and form as she stood looking into it, and upon the face of
Tim seated in a corner, and upon the walls of his father's house, which
he was beholding that night almost for the last time.

Tim Tangs was not happy. This scheme of emigration was dividing him
from his father--for old Tangs would on no account leave Hintock--and
had it not been for Suke's reputation and his own dignity, Tim would at
the last moment have abandoned the project. As he sat in the back part
of the room he regarded her moodily, and the fire and the boxes. One
thing he had particularly noticed this evening--she was very restless;
fitful in her actions, unable to remain seated, and in a marked degree
depressed.

"Sorry that you be going, after all, Suke?" he said.

She sighed involuntarily. "I don't know but that I be," she answered.
"'Tis natural, isn't it, when one is going away?"

"But you wasn't born here as I was."

"No."

"There's folk left behind that you'd fain have with 'ee, I reckon?"

"Why do you think that?"

"I've seen things and I've heard things;