"You can turn if you unhitch your string-horses," said the coachman.

"It is much easier for you to turn than for us," said Winterborne.

"We've five tons of timber on these wheels if we've an ounce."

"But I've another carriage with luggage at my back."

Winterborne admitted the strength of the argument. "But even with

that," he said, "you can back better than we. And you ought to, for

you could hear our bells half a mile off."

"And you could see our lights."

"We couldn't, because of the fog."

"Well, our time's precious," said the coachman, haughtily. "You are

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only going to some trumpery little village or other in the

neighborhood, while we are going straight to Italy."

"Driving all the way, I suppose," said Winterborne, sarcastically.

The argument continued in these terms till a voice from the interior of

the carriage inquired what was the matter. It was a lady's.

She was briefly informed of the timber people's obstinacy; and then

Giles could hear her telling the footman to direct the timber people to

turn their horses' heads.

The message was brought, and Winterborne sent the bearer back to say

that he begged the lady's pardon, but that he could not do as she

requested; that though he would not assert it to be impossible, it was

impossible by comparison with the slight difficulty to her party to

back their light carriages. As fate would have it, the incident with

Grace Melbury on the previous day made Giles less gentle than he might

otherwise have shown himself, his confidence in the sex being rudely

shaken.

In fine, nothing could move him, and the carriages were compelled to

back till they reached one of the sidings or turnouts constructed in

the bank for the purpose. Then the team came on ponderously, and the

clanging of its sixteen bells as it passed the discomfited carriages,

tilted up against the bank, lent a particularly triumphant tone to the

team's progress--a tone which, in point of fact, did not at all attach

to its conductor's feelings.

Giles walked behind the timber, and just as he had got past the yet

stationary carriages he heard a soft voice say, "Who is that rude man?

Not Melbury?" The sex of the speaker was so prominent in the voice that

Winterborne felt a pang of regret.

"No, ma'am. A younger man, in a smaller way of business in Little

Hintock. Winterborne is his name."

Thus they parted company. "Why, Mr. Winterborne," said the wagoner,

when they were out of hearing, "that was She--Mrs. Charmond! Who'd ha'

thought it? What in the world can a woman that does nothing be

cock-watching out here at this time o' day for? Oh, going to Italy--yes

to be sure, I heard she was going abroad, she can't endure the winter

here."




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