Winterborne sped on his way to Sherton Abbas without elation and
without discomposure. Had he regarded his inner self spectacularly, as
lovers are now daily more wont to do, he might have felt pride in the
discernment of a somewhat rare power in him--that of keeping not only
judgment but emotion suspended in difficult cases. But he noted it
not. Neither did he observe what was also the fact, that though he
cherished a true and warm feeling towards Grace Melbury, he was not
altogether her fool just now. It must be remembered that he had not
seen her for a year.
Arrived at the entrance to a long flat lane, which had taken the spirit
out of many a pedestrian in times when, with the majority, to travel
meant to walk, he saw before him the trim figure of a young woman in
pattens, journeying with that steadfast concentration which means
purpose and not pleasure. He was soon near enough to see that she was
Marty South. Click, click, click went the pattens; and she did not
turn her head.
She had, however, become aware before this that the driver of the
approaching gig was Giles. She had shrunk from being overtaken by him
thus; but as it was inevitable, she had braced herself up for his
inspection by closing her lips so as to make her mouth quite
unemotional, and by throwing an additional firmness into her tread.
"Why do you wear pattens, Marty? The turnpike is clean enough, although
the lanes are muddy."
"They save my boots."
"But twelve miles in pattens--'twill twist your feet off. Come, get up
and ride with me."
She hesitated, removed her pattens, knocked the gravel out of them
against the wheel, and mounted in front of the nodding specimen
apple-tree. She had so arranged her bonnet with a full border and
trimmings that her lack of long hair did not much injure her
appearance; though Giles, of course, saw that it was gone, and may have
guessed her motive in parting with it, such sales, though infrequent,
being not unheard of in that locality.
But nature's adornment was still hard by--in fact, within two feet of
him, though he did not know it. In Marty's basket was a brown paper
packet, and in the packet the chestnut locks, which, by reason of the
barber's request for secrecy, she had not ventured to intrust to other
hands.
Giles asked, with some hesitation, how her father was getting on.
He was better, she said; he would be able to work in a day or two; he
would be quite well but for his craze about the tree falling on him.