ons I
derived from my introduction to Mr. Gilmore, and it is but fair to him
to add, that the knowledge I gained by later and better experience only
tended to confirm them.

I left the old gentleman and Miss Halcombe to enter the house together,
and to talk of family matters undisturbed by the restraint of a
stranger's presence. They crossed the hall on their way to the
drawing-room, and I descended the steps again to wander about the
garden alone.

My hours were numbered at Limmeridge House--my departure the next
morning was irrevocably settled--my share in the investigation which
the anonymous letter had rendered necessary was at an end. No harm
could be done to any one but myself if I let my heart loose again, for
the little time that was left me, from the cold cruelty of restraint
which necessity had forced me to inflict upon it, and took my farewell
of the scenes which were associated with the brief dream-time of my
happiness and my love.

I turned instinctively to the walk beneath my study-window, where I had
seen her the evening before with her little dog, and followed the path
which her dear feet had trodden so often, till I came to the wicket
gate that led into her rose garden. The winter bareness spread
drearily over it now. The flowers that she had taught me to
distinguish by their names, the flowers that I had taught her to paint
from, were gone, and the tiny white paths that led between the beds
were damp and green already. I went on to the avenue of trees, where
we had breathed together the warm fragrance of August evenings, where
we had admired together the myriad combinations of shade and sunlight
that dappled the ground at our feet. The leaves fell about me from the
groaning branches, and the earthy decay in the atmosphere chilled me to
the bones. A little farther on, and I was out of the grounds, and
following the lane that wound gently upward to the nearest hills. The
old felled tree by the wayside, on which we had sat to rest, was sodden
with rain, and the tuft of ferns and grasses which I had drawn for her,
nestling under the rough stone wall in front of us, had turned to a
pool of water, stagnating round an island of draggled weeds. I gained
the summit of the hill, and looked at the view which we had so often
admired in the happier time. It was cold and barren--it was no longer
the view that I remembered. The sunshine of her presence was far from
me--the charm of her voice no longer mu