lled to Grace's mind
the last occasion of her presence there, and she said, "The promise of
an enormous apple-crop is fulfilling itself, is it not? I suppose
Giles is getting his mills and presses ready."

This was just what her father had not come there to talk about. Without
replying he raised his arm, and moved his finger till he fixed it at a
point. "There," he said, "you see that plantation reaching over the
hill like a great slug, and just behind the hill a particularly green
sheltered bottom? That's where Mr. Fitzpiers's family were lords of
the manor for I don't know how many hundred years, and there stands the
village of Buckbury Fitzpiers. A wonderful property 'twas--wonderful!"

"But they are not lords of the manor there now."

"Why, no. But good and great things die as well as little and foolish.
The only ones representing the family now, I believe, are our doctor
and a maiden lady living I don't know where. You can't help being
happy, Grace, in allying yourself with such a romantical family.
You'll feel as if you've stepped into history."

"We've been at Hintock as long as they've been at Buckbury; is it not
so? You say our name occurs in old deeds continually."

"Oh yes--as yeomen, copyholders, and such like. But think how much
better this will be for 'ee. You'll be living a high intellectual
life, such as has now become natural to you; and though the doctor's
practice is small here, he'll no doubt go to a dashing town when he's
got his hand in, and keep a stylish carriage, and you'll be brought to
know a good many ladies of excellent society. If you should ever meet
me then, Grace, you can drive past me, looking the other way. I
shouldn't expect you to speak to me, or wish such a thing, unless it
happened to be in some lonely, private place where 'twouldn't lower ye
at all. Don't think such men as neighbor Giles your equal. He and I
shall be good friends enough, but he's not for the like of you. He's
lived our rough and homely life here, and his wife's life must be rough
and homely likewise."

So much pressure could not but produce some displacement. As Grace was
left very much to herself, she took advantage of one fine day before
Fitzpiers's return to drive into the aforesaid vale where stood the
village of Buckbury Fitzpiers. Leaving her father's man at the inn
with the horse and gig, she rambled onward to the ruins of a castle,
which stood in a field hard by. She had no doubt that