The woods were uninteresting, and Grace stayed in-doors a great deal.
She became quite a student, reading more than she had done since her
marriage But her seclusion was always broken for the periodical visit
to Winterborne's grave with Marty, which was kept up with pious
strictness, for the purpose of putting snow-drops, primroses, and other
vernal flowers thereon as they came.

One afternoon at sunset she was standing just outside her father's
garden, which, like the rest of the Hintock enclosures, abutted into
the wood. A slight foot-path led along here, forming a secret way to
either of the houses by getting through its boundary hedge. Grace was
just about to adopt this mode of entry when a figure approached along
the path, and held up his hand to detain her. It was her husband.

"I am delighted," he said, coming up out of breath; and there seemed no
reason to doubt his words. "I saw you some way off--I was afraid you
would go in before I could reach you."

"It is a week before the time," said she, reproachfully. "I said a
fortnight from the last meeting."

"My dear, you don't suppose I could wait a fortnight without trying to
get a glimpse of you, even though you had declined to meet me! Would it
make you angry to know that I have been along this path at dusk three
or four times since our last meeting? Well, how are you?"