Chapter 33 - Page 2

the
best probable succession of events would shortly be denied her.

At a little distance, on the edge of the clearing, Marty South was
shaping spar-gads to take home for manufacture during the
evenings. While Winterborne and Mrs. Fitzpiers stood looking at
her in their mutual embarrassment at each other's presence, they
beheld approaching the girl a lady in a dark fur mantle and a
black hat, having a white veil tied picturesquely round it. She
spoke to Marty, who turned and courtesied, and the lady fell into
conversation with her. It was Mrs. Charmond.

On leaving her house, Mrs. Charmond had walked on and onward under
the fret and fever of her mind with more vigor than she was
accustomed to show in her normal moods--a fever which the solace
of a cigarette did not entirely allay. Reaching the coppice, she
listlessly observed Marty at work, threw away her cigarette, and
came near. Chop, chop, chop, went Marty's little billhook with
never more assiduity, till Mrs. Charmond spoke.

"Who is that young lady I see talking to the woodman yonder?" she
asked.

"Mrs. Fitzpiers, ma'am," said Marty.

"Oh," said Mrs. Charmond, with something like a start; for she had
not recognized Grace at that distance. "And the man she is
talking to?"

"That's Mr. Winterborne."

A redness stole into Marty's face as she mentioned Giles's name,
which Mrs. Charmond did not fail to notice informed her of the
state of the girl's heart. "Are you engaged to him?" she asked,
softly.

"No, ma'am," said Marty. "SHE was once; and I think--"

But Marty could not possibly explain the complications of her
thoughts on this matter--which were nothing less than one of
extraordinary acuteness for a girl so young and inexperienced--
namely, that she saw danger to two hearts naturally honest in
Grace being thrown back into Winterborne's society by the neglect
of her husband. Mrs. Charmond, however, with the almost
supersensory means to knowledge which women have on such
occasions, quite understood what Marty had intended to convey, and
the picture thus exhibited to her of lives drifting away,
involving the wreck of poor Marty's hopes, prompted her to more
generous resolves than all Melbury's remonstrances had been able
to stimulate.

Full of the new feeling, she bade the girl good-afternoon, and
went on over the stumps of hazel to where Grace and Winterborne
were standing. They saw her approach, and Winterborne said, "She
is coming to you; it is a good omen. She dislikes me, so I'll go
away." He accordingly retreated to where he had been working
before Grace came, and Grace's formidable rival approached her,
each woman taking the other's measure as she came near.