When Grace had ascended nearly to the top of the adjoining slope she
looked back, and saw that Mrs. Charmond still stood at the door,
meditatively regarding her.
Often during the previous night, after his call on the Melburys,
Winterborne's thoughts ran upon Grace's announced visit to Hintock
House. Why could he not have proposed to walk with her part of the
way? Something told him that she might not, on such an occasion, care
for his company.
He was still more of that opinion when, standing in his garden next
day, he saw her go past on the journey with such a pretty pride in the
event. He wondered if her father's ambition, which had purchased for
her the means of intellectual light and culture far beyond those of any
other native of the village, would conduce to the flight of her future
interests above and away from the local life which was once to her the
movement of the world.
Nevertheless, he had her father's permission to win her if he could;
and to this end it became desirable to bring matters soon to a crisis,
if he ever hoped to do so. If she should think herself too good for
him, he could let her go and make the best of his loss; but until he
had really tested her he could not say that she despised his suit. The
question was how to quicken events towards an issue.
He thought and thought, and at last decided that as good a way as any
would be to give a Christmas party, and ask Grace and her parents to
come as chief guests.
These ruminations were occupying him when there became audible a slight
knocking at his front door. He descended the path and looked out, and
beheld Marty South, dressed for out-door work.
"Why didn't you come, Mr. Winterborne?" she said. "I've been waiting
there hours and hours, and at last I thought I must try to find you."
"Bless my soul, I'd quite forgot," said Giles.
What he had forgotten was that there was a thousand young fir-trees to
be planted in a neighboring spot which had been cleared by the
wood-cutters, and that he had arranged to plant them with his own
hands. He had a marvellous power of making trees grow. Although he
would seem to shovel in the earth quite carelessly, there was a sort of
sympathy between himself and the fir, oak, or beech that he was
operating on, so that the roots took hold of the soil in a few days.
When, on the other hand, any of the journeymen planted, although they
seemed to go through an identically similar process, one quarter of the
trees would die away during the ensuing August.