"Keep still, please, or put me down.
I was saying that I lost her by a mere little two months! There is no chance for me now in this world, and it makes me reckless--reckless! Unless, indeed, anything should happen to the other one.

She is amiable enough; but if anything should happen to her--and I hear she is ill--well, if it should, I should be free--and my fame, my happiness, would be insured." These were the last words that Fitzpiers uttered in his seat in front of the timber-merchant.

Unable longer to master himself, Melbury, the skin of his face compressed, whipped away his spare arm from Fitzpiers's waist, and seized him by the collar.
"You heartless villain--after all that we have done for ye!" he cried, with a quivering lip.

"And the money of hers that you've had, and the roof we've provided to shelter ye! It is to me, George Melbury, that you dare to talk like that!" The exclamation was accompanied by a powerful swing from the shoulder, which flung the young man head-long into the road, Fitzpiers fell with a heavy thud upon the stumps of some undergrowth which had been cut during the winter preceding.

Darling continued her walk for a few paces farther and stopped.
"God forgive me!" Melbury murmured, repenting of what he had done.