with the rest of the maids?"

"I don't believe in it," said Marty, shortly.

"Why, half the parish is here--the silly hussies should have kept it
quiet. I see Mr. Winterborne through the leaves, just come up with
Robert Creedle. Marty, we ought to act the part o' Providence
sometimes. Do go and tell him that if he stands just behind the bush
at the bottom of the slope, Miss Grace must pass down it when she comes
back, and she will most likely rush into his arms; for as soon as the
clock strikes, they'll bundle back home--along like hares. I've seen
such larries before."

"Do you think I'd better?" said Marty, reluctantly.

"Oh yes, he'll bless ye for it."

"I don't want that kind of blessing." But after a moment's thought she
went and delivered the information; and Grammer had the satisfaction of
seeing Giles walk slowly to the bend in the leafy defile along which
Grace would have to return.

Meanwhile Mrs. Melbury, deserted by Grace, had perceived Fitzpiers and
Winterborne, and also the move of the latter. An improvement on
Grammer's idea entered the mind of Mrs. Melbury, for she had lately
discerned what her husband had not--that Grace was rapidly fascinating
the surgeon. She therefore drew near to Fitzpiers.

"You should be where Mr. Winterborne is standing," she said to him,
significantly. "She will run down through that opening much faster
than she went up it, if she is like the rest of the girls."

Fitzpiers did not require to be told twice. He went across to
Winterborne and stood beside him. Each knew the probable purpose of
the other in standing there, and neither spoke, Fitzpiers scorning to
look upon Winterborne as a rival, and Winterborne adhering to the
off-hand manner of indifference which had grown upon him since his
dismissal.

Neither Grammer nor Marty South had seen the surgeon's manoeuvre, and,
still to help Winterborne, as she supposed, the old woman suggested to
the wood-girl that she should walk forward at the heels of Grace, and
"tole" her down the required way if she showed a tendency to run in
another direction. Poor Marty, always doomed to sacrifice desire to
obligation, walked forward accordingly, and waited as a beacon, still
and silent, for the retreat of Grace and her giddy companions, now
quite out of hearing.

The first sound to break the silence was the distant note of Great
Hintock clock striking the significant hour. About a minute later that
quarter of the wood