Why? Cannot you go without?"

"I may consult my own feelings only, if left to myself."

"Well, if you do, what then? Do you suppose you'll be in my way?"

"I feared it might be so."

"Then fear no more. But good-night. Come to-morrow and see if I am
going on right. This renewal of acquaintance touches me. I have
already a friendship for you."

"If it depends upon myself it shall last forever."

"My best hopes that it may. Good-by."

Fitzpiers went down the stairs absolutely unable to decide whether she
had sent for him in the natural alarm which might have followed her
mishap, or with the single view of making herself known to him as she
had done, for which the capsize had afforded excellent opportunity.
Outside the house he mused over the spot under the light of the stars.
It seemed very strange that he should have come there more than once
when its inhabitant was absent, and observed the house with a nameless
interest; that he should have assumed off-hand before he knew Grace
that it was here she lived; that, in short, at sundry times and seasons
the individuality of Hintock House should have forced itself upon him
as appertaining to some existence with which he was concerned.

The intersection of his temporal orbit with Mrs. Charmond's for a day
or two in the past had created a sentimental interest in her at the
time, but it had been so evanescent that in the ordinary onward roll of
affairs he would scarce ever have recalled it again. To find her here,
however, in these somewhat romantic circumstances, magnified that
by-gone and transitory tenderness to indescribable proportions.

On entering Little Hintock he found himself regarding it in a new
way--from the Hintock House point of view rather than from his own and
the Melburys'. The household had all gone to bed, and as he went
up-stairs he heard the snore of the timber-merchant from his quarter of
the building, and turned into the passage communicating with his own
rooms in a strange access of sadness. A light was burning for him in
the chamber; but Grace, though in bed, was not asleep. In a moment her
sympathetic voice came from behind the curtains.

"Edgar, is she very seriously hurt?"

Fitzpiers had so entirely lost sight of Mrs. Charmond as a patient that
he was not on the instant ready with a reply.

"Oh no," he said. "There are no bones broken, but she is shaken. I am
going again to-morrow."

Another inquiry or two, and Grace said,