The mere presence of Fitzpiers in the building, after his statement, was wellnigh conclusive as far as he was concerned; but Melbury resolved yet to watch.
He had to wait long.

Autumn drew shiveringly to its end.

One day something seemed to be gone from the gardens; the tenderer leaves of vegetables had shrunk under the first smart frost, and hung like faded linen rags; then the forest leaves, which had been descending at leisure, descended in haste and in multitudes, and all the golden colors that had hung overhead were now crowded together in a degraded mass underfoot, where the fallen myriads got redder and hornier, and curled themselves up to rot.

The only suspicious features in Mrs.
Charmond's existence at this season were two: the first, that she lived with no companion or relative about her, which, considering her age and attractions, was somewhat unusual conduct for a young widow in a lonely country-house; the other, that she did not, as in previous years, start from Hintock to winter abroad.

In Fitzpiers, the only change from his last autumn's habits lay in his abandonment of night study--his lamp never shone from his new dwelling as from his old.
If the suspected ones met, it was by such adroit contrivances that even Melbury's vigilance could not encounter them together.