It was just in the blue of the dawn, and the chilling tone of the sky was reflected in her cold, wet face.

The whole wood seemed to be a house of death, pervaded by loss to its uttermost length and breadth.

Winterborne was gone, and the copses seemed to show the want of him; those young trees, so many of which he had planted, and of which he had spoken so truly when he said that he should fall before they fell, were at that very moment sending out their roots in the direction that he had given them with his subtle hand.
"One thing made it tolerable to us that your husband should come back to the house," said Melbury at last--"the death of Mrs.Charmond." "Ah, yes," said Grace, arousing slightly to the recollection, "he told me so." "Did he tell you how she died?
It was no such death as Giles's.

She was shot--by a disappointed lover.

It occurred in Germany.