He became conscious of a discussion in progress on the opposite side of
the court. Somebody had looked over the wall to talk to the sawyers,
and was telling them in a loud voice news in which the name of Mrs.
Charmond soon arrested his ears.
"Grammer, don't make so much noise with that grate," said the surgeon;
at which Grammer reared herself upon her knees and held the fuel
suspended in her hand, while Fitzpiers half opened the casement.
"She is off to foreign lands again at last--hev made up her mind quite
sudden-like--and it is thoughted she'll leave in a day or two. She's
been all as if her mind were low for some days past--with a sort of
sorrow in her face, as if she reproached her own soul. She's the wrong
sort of woman for Hintock--hardly knowing a beech from a woak--that I
own. But I don't care who the man is, she's been a very kind friend to
me.
"Well, the day after to-morrow is the Sabbath day, and without charity
we are but tinkling simples; but this I do say, that her going will be
a blessed thing for a certain married couple who remain."
The fire was lighted, and Fitzpiers sat down in front of it, restless
as the last leaf upon a tree. "A sort of sorrow in her face, as if she
reproached her own soul." Poor Felice. How Felice's frame must be
pulsing under the conditions of which he had just heard the caricature;
how her fair temples must ache; what a mood of wretchedness she must be
in! But for the mixing up of his name with hers, and her determination
to sunder their too close acquaintance on that account, she would
probably have sent for him professionally. She was now sitting alone,
suffering, perhaps wishing that she had not forbidden him to come again.
Unable to remain in this lonely room any longer, or to wait for the
meal which was in course of preparation, he made himself ready for
riding, descended to the yard, stood by the stable-door while Darling
was being saddled, and rode off down the lane. He would have preferred
walking, but was weary with his day's travel.
As he approached the door of Marty South's cottage, which it was
necessary to pass on his way, she came from the porch as if she had
been awaiting him, and met him in the middle of the road, holding up a
letter. Fitzpiers took it without stopping, and asked over his
shoulder from whom it came.
Marty hesitated. "From me," she said, shyly, though with noticeable
firmness.