nterborne told one of his men to pack up the tools for the night and
walked after Melbury.

"Heaven forbid that I should seem too inquisitive, sir," he said,
"especially since we don't stand as we used to stand to one another;
but I hope it is well with them all over your way?"

"No," said Melbury--"no." He stopped, and struck the smooth trunk of a
young ash-tree with the flat of his hand. "I would that his ear had
been where that rind is!" he exclaimed; "I should have treated him to
little compared wi what he deserves."

"Now," said Winterborne, "don't be in a hurry to go home. I've put
some cider down to warm in my shelter here, and we'll sit and drink it
and talk this over."

Melbury turned unresistingly as Giles took his arm, and they went back
to where the fire was, and sat down under the screen, the other woodmen
having gone. He drew out the cider-mug from the ashes and they drank
together.

"Giles, you ought to have had her, as I said just now," repeated
Melbury. "I'll tell you why for the first time."

He thereupon told Winterborne, as with great relief, the story of how
he won away Giles's father's chosen one--by nothing worse than a
lover's cajoleries, it is true, but by means which, except in love,
would certainly have been pronounced cruel and unfair. He explained
how he had always intended to make reparation to Winterborne the father
by giving Grace to Winterborne the son, till the devil tempted him in
the person of Fitzpiers, and he broke his virtuous vow.

"How highly I thought of that man, to be sure! Who'd have supposed he'd
have been so weak and wrong-headed as this! You ought to have had her,
Giles, and there's an end on't."

Winterborne knew how to preserve his calm under this unconsciously
cruel tearing of a healing wound to which Melbury's concentration on
the more vital subject had blinded him. The young man endeavored to
make the best of the case for Grace's sake.

"She would hardly have been happy with me," he said, in the dry,
unimpassioned voice under which he hid his feelings. "I was not well
enough educated: too rough, in short. I couldn't have surrounded her
with the refinements she looked for, anyhow, at all."

"Nonsense--you are quite wrong there," said the unwise old man,
doggedly. "She told me only this day that she hates refinements and
such like. All that my trouble and money bought for her in that way is
thrown away upon her quite. She'd fain be like Marty Sou