ide the shelter, and went on with his reading,
except when he looked up to observe the scene and the actors. The
thought that he might settle here and become welded in with this sylvan
life by marrying Grace Melbury crossed his mind for a moment. Why
should he go farther into the world than where he was? The secret of
quiet happiness lay in limiting the ideas and aspirations; these men's
thoughts were conterminous with the margin of the Hintock woodlands,
and why should not his be likewise limited--a small practice among the
people around him being the bound of his desires?

Presently Marty South discontinued her operations upon the quivering
boughs, came out from the reclining oak, and prepared tea. When it was
ready the men were called; and Fitzpiers being in a mood to join, sat
down with them.

The latent reason of his lingering here so long revealed itself when
the faint creaking of the joints of a vehicle became audible, and one
of the men said, "Here's he." Turning their heads they saw Melbury's
gig approaching, the wheels muffled by the yielding moss.

The timber-merchant was on foot leading the horse, looking back at
every few steps to caution his daughter, who kept her seat, where and
how to duck her head so as to avoid the overhanging branches. They
stopped at the spot where the bark-ripping had been temporarily
suspended; Melbury cursorily examined the heaps of bark, and drawing
near to where the workmen were sitting down, accepted their shouted
invitation to have a dish of tea, for which purpose he hitched the
horse to a bough. Grace declined to take any of their beverage, and
remained in her place in the vehicle, looking dreamily at the sunlight
that came in thin threads through the hollies with which the oaks were
interspersed.

When Melbury stepped up close to the shelter, he for the first time
perceived that the doctor was present, and warmly appreciated
Fitzpiers's invitation to sit down on the log beside him.

"Bless my heart, who would have thought of finding you here," he said,
obviously much pleased at the circumstance. "I wonder now if my
daughter knows you are so nigh at hand. I don't expect she do."

He looked out towards the gig wherein Grace sat, her face still turned
in the opposite direction. "She doesn't see us. Well, never mind: let
her be."

Grace was indeed quite unconscious of Fitzpiers's propinquity. She was
thinking of something which had little connection with the sce