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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17500-8.txt b/17500-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..52b09d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/17500-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17466 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Return of the Native, by Thomas Hardy + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Return of the Native + + +Author: Thomas Hardy + + + +Release Date: January 12, 2006 [eBook #17500] +Most recently updated: March 13, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE*** + + +E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D., and John Hamm + + + +THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE + +by + +THOMAS HARDY + +1912 + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + AUTHOR'S PREFACE + + BOOK FIRST: THE THREE WOMEN + + I. A Face on Which Time Makes But Little Impression + II. Humanity Appears upon the Scene, Hand in Hand with Trouble + III. The Custom of the Country + IV. The Halt on the Turnpike Road + V. Perplexity among Honest People + VI. The Figure against the Sky + VII. Queen of Night + VIII. Those Who Are Found Where There Is Said to Be Nobody + IX. Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy + X. A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion + XI. The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman + + BOOK SECOND: THE ARRIVAL + + I. Tidings of the Comer + II. The People at Blooms-End Make Ready + III. How a Little Sound Produced a Great Dream + IV. Eustacia Is Led On to an Adventure + V. Through the Moonlight + VI. The Two Stand Face to Face + VII. A Coalition between Beauty and Oddness + VIII. Firmness Is Discovered in a Gentle Heart + + BOOK THIRD: THE FASCINATION + + I. "My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is" + II. The New Course Causes Disappointment + III. The First Act in a Timeworn Drama + IV. An Hour of Bliss and Many Hours of Sadness + V. Sharp Words Are Spoken, and a Crisis Ensues + VI. Yeobright Goes, and the Breach Is Complete + VII. The Morning and the Evening of a Day + VIII. A New Force Disturbs the Current + + BOOK FOURTH: THE CLOSED DOOR + + I. The Rencounter by the Pool + II. He Is Set Upon by Adversities; but He Sings a Song + III. She Goes Out to Battle against Depression + IV. Rough Coercion Is Employed + V. The Journey across the Heath + VI. A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian + VII. The Tragic Meeting of Two Old Friends + VIII. Eustacia Hears of Good Fortune, and Beholds Evil + + BOOK FIFTH: THE DISCOVERY + + I. "Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery" + II. A Lurid Light Breaks In upon a Darkened Understanding + III. Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning + IV. The Ministrations of a Half-Forgotten One + V. An Old Move Inadvertently Repeated + VI. Thomasin Argues with Her Cousin, and He Writes a Letter + VII. The Night of the Sixth of November + VIII. Rain, Darkness, and Anxious Wanderers + IX. Sights and Sounds Draw the Wanderers Together + + BOOK SIXTH: AFTERCOURSES + + I. The Inevitable Movement Onward + II. Thomasin Walks in a Green Place by the Roman Road + III. The Serious Discourse of Clym with His Cousin + IV. Cheerfulness Again Asserts Itself at Blooms-End, + and Clym Finds His Vocation + + + + + + "To sorrow + I bade good morrow, + And thought to leave her far away behind; + But cheerly, cheerly, + She loves me dearly; + She is so constant to me, and so kind. + I would deceive her, + And so leave her, + But ah! she is so constant and so kind." + + + + + +AUTHOR'S PREFACE + + +The date at which the following events are assumed to have occurred +may be set down as between 1840 and 1850, when the old watering-place +herein called "Budmouth" still retained sufficient afterglow from its +Georgian gaiety and prestige to lend it an absorbing attractiveness to +the romantic and imaginative soul of a lonely dweller inland. + +Under the general name of "Egdon Heath," which has been given to the +sombre scene of the story, are united or typified heaths of various +real names, to the number of at least a dozen; these being virtually +one in character and aspect, though their original unity, or partial +unity, is now somewhat disguised by intrusive strips and slices +brought under the plough with varying degrees of success, or planted +to woodland. + +It is pleasant to dream that some spot in the extensive tract whose +south-western quarter is here described, may be the heath of that +traditionary King of Wessex--Lear. + +July 1895 + + + +POSTSCRIPT + + +To prevent disappointment to searchers for scenery it should be added +that though the action of the narrative is supposed to proceed in the +central and most secluded part of the heaths united into one whole, +as above described, certain topographical features resembling those +delineated really lie on the margin of the waste, several miles to the +westward of the centre. In some other respects also there has been a +bringing together of scattered characteristics. + +The first edition of this novel was published in three volumes in +1878. + +April 1912 T. H. + + + + +BOOK FIRST +THE THREE WOMEN + + +I + +A Face on Which Time Makes But Little Impression + + +A Saturday afternoon in November was approaching the time of twilight, +and the vast tract of unenclosed wild known as Egdon Heath embrowned +itself moment by moment. Overhead the hollow stretch of whitish cloud +shutting out the sky was as a tent which had the whole heath for its +floor. + +The heaven being spread with this pallid screen and the earth with +the darkest vegetation, their meeting-line at the horizon was +clearly marked. In such contrast the heath wore the appearance of +an instalment of night which had taken up its place before its +astronomical hour was come: darkness had to a great extent arrived +hereon, while day stood distinct in the sky. Looking upwards, a +furze-cutter would have been inclined to continue work; looking down, +he would have decided to finish his faggot and go home. The distant +rims of the world and of the firmament seemed to be a division in time +no less than a division in matter. The face of the heath by its mere +complexion added half an hour to evening; it could in like manner +retard the dawn, sadden noon, anticipate the frowning of storms +scarcely generated, and intensify the opacity of a moonless midnight +to a cause of shaking and dread. + +In fact, precisely at this transitional point of its nightly roll into +darkness the great and particular glory of the Egdon waste began, and +nobody could be said to understand the heath who had not been there at +such a time. It could best be felt when it could not clearly be seen, +its complete effect and explanation lying in this and the succeeding +hours before the next dawn; then, and only then, did it tell its true +tale. The spot was, indeed, a near relation of night, and when night +showed itself an apparent tendency to gravitate together could be +perceived in its shades and the scene. The sombre stretch of rounds +and hollows seemed to rise and meet the evening gloom in pure +sympathy, the heath exhaling darkness as rapidly as the heavens +precipitated it. And so the obscurity in the air and the obscurity in +the land closed together in a black fraternization towards which each +advanced half-way. + +The place became full of a watchful intentness now; for when other +things sank brooding to sleep the heath appeared slowly to awake and +listen. Every night its Titanic form seemed to await something; but +it had waited thus, unmoved, during so many centuries, through the +crises of so many things, that it could only be imagined to await one +last crisis--the final overthrow. + +It was a spot which returned upon the memory of those who loved it +with an aspect of peculiar and kindly congruity. Smiling champaigns of +flowers and fruit hardly do this, for they are permanently harmonious +only with an existence of better reputation as to its issues than the +present. Twilight combined with the scenery of Egdon Heath to evolve +a thing majestic without severity, impressive without showiness, +emphatic in its admonitions, grand in its simplicity. The +qualifications which frequently invest the façade of a prison with far +more dignity than is found in the façade of a palace double its size +lent to this heath a sublimity in which spots renowned for beauty of +the accepted kind are utterly wanting. Fair prospects wed happily +with fair times; but alas, if times be not fair! Men have oftener +suffered from the mockery of a place too smiling for their reason +than from the oppression of surroundings oversadly tinged. Haggard +Egdon appealed to a subtler and scarcer instinct, to a more recently +learnt emotion, than that which responds to the sort of beauty called +charming and fair. + +Indeed, it is a question if the exclusive reign of this orthodox +beauty is not approaching its last quarter. The new Vale of Tempe +may be a gaunt waste in Thule; human souls may find themselves in +closer and closer harmony with external things wearing a sombreness +distasteful to our race when it was young. The time seems near, if it +has not actually arrived, when the chastened sublimity of a moor, a +sea, or a mountain will be all of nature that is absolutely in keeping +with the moods of the more thinking among mankind. And ultimately, +to the commonest tourist, spots like Iceland may become what the +vineyards and myrtle-gardens of South Europe are to him now; and +Heidelberg and Baden be passed unheeded as he hastens from the Alps to +the sand-dunes of Scheveningen. + +The most thorough-going ascetic could feel that he had a natural right +to wander on Egdon: he was keeping within the line of legitimate +indulgence when he laid himself open to influences such as these. +Colours and beauties so far subdued were, at least, the birthright of +all. Only in summer days of highest feather did its mood touch the +level of gaiety. Intensity was more usually reached by way of the +solemn than by way of the brilliant, and such a sort of intensity was +often arrived at during winter darkness, tempests, and mists. Then +Egdon was aroused to reciprocity; for the storm was its lover, and +the wind its friend. Then it became the home of strange phantoms; and +it was found to be the hitherto unrecognized original of those wild +regions of obscurity which are vaguely felt to be compassing us about +in midnight dreams of flight and disaster, and are never thought of +after the dream till revived by scenes like this. + +It was at present a place perfectly accordant with man's +nature--neither ghastly, hateful, nor ugly; neither commonplace, +unmeaning, nor tame; but, like man, slighted and enduring; and withal +singularly colossal and mysterious in its swarthy monotony. As with +some persons who have long lived apart, solitude seemed to look +out of its countenance. It had a lonely face, suggesting tragical +possibilities. + +This obscure, obsolete, superseded country figures in Domesday. +Its condition is recorded therein as that of heathy, furzy, briary +wilderness--"Bruaria." Then follows the length and breadth in +leagues; and, though some uncertainty exists as to the exact extent of +this ancient lineal measure, it appears from the figures that the area +of Egdon down to the present day has but little diminished. "Turbaria +Bruaria"--the right of cutting heath-turf--occurs in charters relating +to the district. "Overgrown with heth and mosse," says Leland of the +same dark sweep of country. + +Here at least were intelligible facts regarding +landscape--far-reaching proofs productive of genuine satisfaction. +The untameable, Ishmaelitish thing that Egdon now was it always had +been. Civilization was its enemy; and ever since the beginning of +vegetation its soil had worn the same antique brown dress, the natural +and invariable garment of the particular formation. In its venerable +one coat lay a certain vein of satire on human vanity in clothes. A +person on a heath in raiment of modern cut and colours has more or +less an anomalous look. We seem to want the oldest and simplest human +clothing where the clothing of the earth is so primitive. + +To recline on a stump of thorn in the central valley of Egdon, between +afternoon and night, as now, where the eye could reach nothing of the +world outside the summits and shoulders of heathland which filled the +whole circumference of its glance, and to know that everything around +and underneath had been from prehistoric times as unaltered as the +stars overhead, gave ballast to the mind adrift on change, and +harassed by the irrepressible New. The great inviolate place had +an ancient permanence which the sea cannot claim. Who can say of a +particular sea that it is old? Distilled by the sun, kneaded by the +moon, it is renewed in a year, in a day, or in an hour. The sea +changed, the fields changed, the rivers, the villages, and the people +changed, yet Egdon remained. Those surfaces were neither so steep as +to be destructible by weather, nor so flat as to be the victims of +floods and deposits. With the exception of an aged highway, and a +still more aged barrow presently to be referred to--themselves almost +crystallized to natural products by long continuance--even the +trifling irregularities were not caused by pickaxe, plough, or spade, +but remained as the very finger-touches of the last geological change. + + +The above-mentioned highway traversed the lower levels of the heath, +from one horizon to another. In many portions of its course it +overlaid an old vicinal way, which branched from the great Western +road of the Romans, the Via Iceniana, or Ikenild Street, hard by. +On the evening under consideration it would have been noticed that, +though the gloom had increased sufficiently to confuse the minor +features of the heath, the white surface of the road remained almost +as clear as ever. + + + + +II + +Humanity Appears upon the Scene, Hand in Hand with Trouble + + +Along the road walked an old man. He was white-headed as a mountain, +bowed in the shoulders, and faded in general aspect. He wore a +glazed hat, an ancient boat-cloak, and shoes; his brass buttons +bearing an anchor upon their face. In his hand was a silver-headed +walking-stick, which he used as a veritable third leg, perseveringly +dotting the ground with its point at every few inches' interval. One +would have said that he had been, in his day, a naval officer of some +sort or other. + +Before him stretched the long, laborious road, dry, empty, and white. +It was quite open to the heath on each side, and bisected that +vast dark surface like the parting-line on a head of black hair, +diminishing and bending away on the furthest horizon. + +The old man frequently stretched his eyes ahead to gaze over the tract +that he had yet to traverse. At length he discerned, a long distance +in front of him, a moving spot, which appeared to be a vehicle, and +it proved to be going the same way as that in which he himself was +journeying. It was the single atom of life that the scene contained, +and it only served to render the general loneliness more evident. Its +rate of advance was slow, and the old man gained upon it sensibly. + +When he drew nearer he perceived it to be a spring van, ordinary in +shape, but singular in colour, this being a lurid red. The driver +walked beside it; and, like his van, he was completely red. One dye +of that tincture covered his clothes, the cap upon his head, his +boots, his face, and his hands. He was not temporarily overlaid with +the colour; it permeated him. + +The old man knew the meaning of this. The traveller with the cart +was a reddleman--a person whose vocation it was to supply farmers +with redding for their sheep. He was one of a class rapidly becoming +extinct in Wessex, filling at present in the rural world the place +which, during the last century, the dodo occupied in the world of +animals. He is a curious, interesting, and nearly perished link +between obsolete forms of life and those which generally prevail. + +The decayed officer, by degrees, came up alongside his +fellow-wayfarer, and wished him good evening. The reddleman turned +his head, and replied in sad and occupied tones. He was young, and +his face, if not exactly handsome, approached so near to handsome that +nobody would have contradicted an assertion that it really was so in +its natural colour. His eye, which glared so strangely through his +stain, was in itself attractive--keen as that of a bird of prey, and +blue as autumn mist. He had neither whisker nor moustache, which +allowed the soft curves of the lower part of his face to be apparent. +His lips were thin, and though, as it seemed, compressed by thought, +there was a pleasant twitch at their corners now and then. He was +clothed throughout in a tight-fitting suit of corduroy, excellent in +quality, not much worn, and well-chosen for its purpose, but deprived +of its original colour by his trade. It showed to advantage the good +shape of his figure. A certain well-to-do air about the man suggested +that he was not poor for his degree. The natural query of an observer +would have been, Why should such a promising being as this have hidden +his prepossessing exterior by adopting that singular occupation? + +After replying to the old man's greeting he showed no inclination to +continue in talk, although they still walked side by side, for the +elder traveller seemed to desire company. There were no sounds but +that of the booming wind upon the stretch of tawny herbage around +them, the crackling wheels, the tread of the men, and the footsteps +of the two shaggy ponies which drew the van. They were small, hardy +animals, of a breed between Galloway and Exmoor, and were known as +"heath-croppers" here. + +Now, as they thus pursued their way, the reddleman occasionally left +his companion's side, and, stepping behind the van, looked into its +interior through a small window. The look was always anxious. He +would then return to the old man, who made another remark about +the state of the country and so on, to which the reddleman again +abstractedly replied, and then again they would lapse into silence. +The silence conveyed to neither any sense of awkwardness; in these +lonely places wayfarers, after a first greeting, frequently plod on +for miles without speech; contiguity amounts to a tacit conversation +where, otherwise than in cities, such contiguity can be put an end +to on the merest inclination, and where not to put an end to it is +intercourse in itself. + +Possibly these two might not have spoken again till their parting, had +it not been for the reddleman's visits to his van. When he returned +from his fifth time of looking in the old man said, "You have +something inside there besides your load?" + +"Yes." + +"Somebody who wants looking after?" + +"Yes." + +Not long after this a faint cry sounded from the interior. The +reddleman hastened to the back, looked in, and came away again. + +"You have a child there, my man?" + +"No, sir, I have a woman." + +"The deuce you have! Why did she cry out?" + +"Oh, she has fallen asleep, and not being used to traveling, she's +uneasy, and keeps dreaming." + +"A young woman?" + +"Yes, a young woman." + +"That would have interested me forty years ago. Perhaps she's your +wife?" + +"My wife!" said the other bitterly. "She's above mating with such as +I. But there's no reason why I should tell you about that." + +"That's true. And there's no reason why you should not. What harm +can I do to you or to her?" + +The reddleman looked in the old man's face. "Well, sir," he said at +last, "I knew her before today, though perhaps it would have been +better if I had not. But she's nothing to me, and I am nothing to +her; and she wouldn't have been in my van if any better carriage had +been there to take her." + +"Where, may I ask?" + +"At Anglebury." + +"I know the town well. What was she doing there?" + +"Oh, not much--to gossip about. However, she's tired to death now, +and not at all well, and that's what makes her so restless. She +dropped off into a nap about an hour ago, and 'twill do her good." + +"A nice-looking girl, no doubt?" + +"You would say so." + +The other traveller turned his eyes with interest towards the van +window, and, without withdrawing them, said, "I presume I might look +in upon her?" + +"No," said the reddleman abruptly. "It is getting too dark for you to +see much of her; and, more than that, I have no right to allow you. +Thank God she sleeps so well: I hope she won't wake till she's home." + +"Who is she? One of the neighbourhood?" + +"'Tis no matter who, excuse me." + +"It is not that girl of Blooms-End, who has been talked about more or +less lately? If so, I know her; and I can guess what has happened." + +"'Tis no matter... Now, sir, I am sorry to say that we shall soon have +to part company. My ponies are tired, and I have further to go, and I +am going to rest them under this bank for an hour." + +The elder traveller nodded his head indifferently, and the reddleman +turned his horses and van in upon the turf, saying, "Good night." The +old man replied, and proceeded on his way as before. + +The reddleman watched his form as it diminished to a speck on the road +and became absorbed in the thickening films of night. He then took +some hay from a truss which was slung up under the van, and, throwing +a portion of it in front of the horses, made a pad of the rest, +which he laid on the ground beside his vehicle. Upon this he sat +down, leaning his back against the wheel. From the interior a low +soft breathing came to his ear. It appeared to satisfy him, and he +musingly surveyed the scene, as if considering the next step that he +should take. + +To do things musingly, and by small degrees, seemed, indeed, to be +a duty in the Egdon valleys at this transitional hour, for there +was that in the condition of the heath itself which resembled +protracted and halting dubiousness. It was the quality of the repose +appertaining to the scene. This was not the repose of actual +stagnation, but the apparent repose of incredible slowness. A +condition of healthy life so nearly resembling the torpor of death +is a noticeable thing of its sort; to exhibit the inertness of the +desert, and at the same time to be exercising powers akin to those of +the meadow, and even of the forest, awakened in those who thought of +it the attentiveness usually engendered by understatement and reserve. + + +The scene before the reddleman's eyes was a gradual series of ascents +from the level of the road backward into the heart of the heath. It +embraced hillocks, pits, ridges, acclivities, one behind the other, +till all was finished by a high hill cutting against the still light +sky. The traveller's eye hovered about these things for a time, and +finally settled upon one noteworthy object up there. It was a barrow. +This bossy projection of earth above its natural level occupied the +loftiest ground of the loneliest height that the heath contained. +Although from the vale it appeared but as a wart on an Atlantean +brow, its actual bulk was great. It formed the pole and axis of this +heathery world. + +As the resting man looked at the barrow he became aware that its +summit, hitherto the highest object in the whole prospect round, was +surmounted by something higher. It rose from the semi-globular mound +like a spike from a helmet. The first instinct of an imaginative +stranger might have been to suppose it the person of one of the Celts +who built the barrow, so far had all of modern date withdrawn from the +scene. It seemed a sort of last man among them, musing for a moment +before dropping into eternal night with the rest of his race. + +There the form stood, motionless as the hill beneath. Above the plain +rose the hill, above the hill rose the barrow, and above the barrow +rose the figure. Above the figure was nothing that could be mapped +elsewhere than on a celestial globe. + +Such a perfect, delicate, and necessary finish did the figure give +to the dark pile of hills that it seemed to be the only obvious +justification of their outline. Without it, there was the dome +without the lantern; with it the architectural demands of the mass +were satisfied. The scene was strangely homogeneous, in that the +vale, the upland, the barrow, and the figure above it amounted only to +unity. Looking at this or that member of the group was not observing +a complete thing, but a fraction of a thing. + +The form was so much like an organic part of the entire motionless +structure that to see it move would have impressed the mind as a +strange phenomenon. Immobility being the chief characteristic of +that whole which the person formed portion of, the discontinuance of +immobility in any quarter suggested confusion. + +Yet that is what happened. The figure perceptibly gave up its fixity, +shifted a step or two, and turned round. As if alarmed, it descended +on the right side of the barrow, with the glide of a water-drop down a +bud, and then vanished. The movement had been sufficient to show more +clearly the characteristics of the figure, and that it was a woman's. + +The reason of her sudden displacement now appeared. With her dropping +out of sight on the right side, a new-comer, bearing a burden, +protruded into the sky on the left side, ascended the tumulus, and +deposited the burden on the top. A second followed, then a third, a +fourth, a fifth, and ultimately the whole barrow was peopled with +burdened figures. + +The only intelligible meaning in this sky-backed pantomime of +silhouettes was that the woman had no relation to the forms who had +taken her place, was sedulously avoiding these, and had come thither +for another object than theirs. The imagination of the observer clung +by preference to that vanished, solitary figure, as to something more +interesting, more important, more likely to have a history worth +knowing than these new-comers, and unconsciously regarded them as +intruders. But they remained, and established themselves; and the +lonely person who hitherto had been queen of the solitude did not at +present seem likely to return. + + + + +III + +The Custom of the Country + + +Had a looker-on been posted in the immediate vicinity of the barrow, +he would have learned that these persons were boys and men of the +neighbouring hamlets. Each, as he ascended the barrow, had been +heavily laden with furze-faggots, carried upon the shoulder by means +of a long stake sharpened at each end for impaling them easily--two +in front and two behind. They came from a part of the heath a quarter +of a mile to the rear, where furze almost exclusively prevailed as a +product. + +Every individual was so involved in furze by his method of carrying +the faggots that he appeared like a bush on legs till he had thrown +them down. The party had marched in trail, like a travelling flock of +sheep; that is to say, the strongest first, the weak and young behind. + +The loads were all laid together, and a pyramid of furze thirty feet +in circumference now occupied the crown of the tumulus, which was +known as Rainbarrow for many miles round. Some made themselves busy +with matches, and in selecting the driest tufts of furze, others in +loosening the bramble bonds which held the faggots together. Others, +again, while this was in progress, lifted their eyes and swept the +vast expanse of country commanded by their position, now lying nearly +obliterated by shade. In the valleys of the heath nothing save its +own wild face was visible at any time of day; but this spot commanded +a horizon enclosing a tract of far extent, and in many cases lying +beyond the heath country. None of its features could be seen now, but +the whole made itself felt as a vague stretch of remoteness. + +While the men and lads were building the pile, a change took place in +the mass of shade which denoted the distant landscape. Red suns and +tufts of fire one by one began to arise, flecking the whole country +round. They were the bonfires of other parishes and hamlets that were +engaged in the same sort of commemoration. Some were distant, and +stood in a dense atmosphere, so that bundles of pale strawlike beams +radiated around them in the shape of a fan. Some were large and near, +glowing scarlet-red from the shade, like wounds in a black hide. Some +were Maenades, with winy faces and blown hair. These tinctured the +silent bosom of the clouds above them and lit up their ephemeral +caves, which seemed thenceforth to become scalding caldrons. Perhaps +as many as thirty bonfires could be counted within the whole bounds +of the district; and as the hour may be told on a clock-face when +the figures themselves are invisible, so did the men recognize the +locality of each fire by its angle and direction, though nothing of +the scenery could be viewed. + +The first tall flame from Rainbarrow sprang into the sky, attracting +all eyes that had been fixed on the distant conflagrations back to +their own attempt in the same kind. The cheerful blaze streaked the +inner surface of the human circle--now increased by other stragglers, +male and female--with its own gold livery, and even overlaid the +dark turf around with a lively luminousness, which softened off into +obscurity where the barrow rounded downwards out of sight. It showed +the barrow to be the segment of a globe, as perfect as on the day when +it was thrown up, even the little ditch remaining from which the earth +was dug. Not a plough had ever disturbed a grain of that stubborn +soil. In the heath's barrenness to the farmer lay its fertility to +the historian. There had been no obliteration, because there had been +no tending. + +It seemed as if the bonfire-makers were standing in some radiant +upper story of the world, detached from and independent of the dark +stretches below. The heath down there was now a vast abyss, and no +longer a continuation of what they stood on; for their eyes, adapted +to the blaze, could see nothing of the deeps beyond its influence. +Occasionally, it is true, a more vigorous flare than usual from their +faggots sent darting lights like aides-de-camp down the inclines to +some distant bush, pool, or patch of white sand, kindling these to +replies of the same colour, till all was lost in darkness again. Then +the whole black phenomenon beneath represented Limbo as viewed from +the brink by the sublime Florentine in his vision, and the muttered +articulations of the wind in the hollows were as complaints and +petitions from the "souls of mighty worth" suspended therein. + +It was as if these men and boys had suddenly dived into past ages, and +fetched therefrom an hour and deed which had before been familiar with +this spot. The ashes of the original British pyre which blazed from +that summit lay fresh and undisturbed in the barrow beneath their +tread. The flames from funeral piles long ago kindled there had shone +down upon the lowlands as these were shining now. Festival fires to +Thor and Woden had followed on the same ground and duly had their day. +Indeed, it is pretty well known that such blazes as this the heathmen +were now enjoying are rather the lineal descendants from jumbled +Druidical rites and Saxon ceremonies than the invention of popular +feeling about Gunpowder Plot. + +Moreover to light a fire is the instinctive and resistant act of man +when, at the winter ingress, the curfew is sounded throughout Nature. +It indicates a spontaneous, Promethean rebelliousness against that +fiat that this recurrent season shall bring foul times, cold darkness, +misery and death. Black chaos comes, and the fettered gods of the +earth say, Let there be light. + +The brilliant lights and sooty shades which struggled upon the skin +and clothes of the persons standing round caused their lineaments and +general contours to be drawn with Dureresque vigour and dash. Yet the +permanent moral expression of each face it was impossible to discover, +for as the nimble flames towered, nodded, and swooped through the +surrounding air, the blots of shade and flakes of light upon the +countenances of the group changed shape and position endlessly. All +was unstable; quivering as leaves, evanescent as lightning. Shadowy +eye-sockets, deep as those of a death's head, suddenly turned into +pits of lustre: a lantern-jaw was cavernous, then it was shining; +wrinkles were emphasized to ravines, or obliterated entirely by a +changed ray. Nostrils were dark wells; sinews in old necks were gilt +mouldings; things with no particular polish on them were glazed; +bright objects, such as the tip of a furze-hook one of the men +carried, were as glass; eyeballs glowed like little lanterns. Those +whom Nature had depicted as merely quaint became grotesque, the +grotesque became preternatural; for all was in extremity. + +Hence it may be that the face of an old man, who had like others been +called to the heights by the rising flames, was not really the mere +nose and chin that it appeared to be, but an appreciable quantity of +human countenance. He stood complacently sunning himself in the heat. +With a speaker, or stake, he tossed the outlying scraps of fuel into +the conflagration, looking at the midst of the pile, occasionally +lifting his eyes to measure the height of the flame, or to follow the +great sparks which rose with it and sailed away into darkness. The +beaming sight, and the penetrating warmth, seemed to breed in him a +cumulative cheerfulness, which soon amounted to delight. With his +stick in his hand he began to jig a private minuet, a bunch of copper +seals shining and swinging like a pendulum from under his waistcoat: +he also began to sing, in the voice of a bee up a flue-- + + + "The king´ call'd down´ his no-bles all´, + By one´, by two´, by three´; + Earl Mar´-shal, I'll´ go shrive´-the queen´, + And thou´ shalt wend´ with me´. + + "A boon´, a boon´, quoth Earl´ Mar-shal´, + And fell´ on his bend´-ded knee´, + That what´-so-e'er´ the queen´ shall say´, + No harm´ there-of´ may be´." + + +Want of breath prevented a continuance of the song; and the breakdown +attracted the attention of a firm-standing man of middle age, who +kept each corner of his crescent-shaped mouth rigorously drawn back +into his cheek, as if to do away with any suspicion of mirthfulness +which might erroneously have attached to him. + +"A fair stave, Grandfer Cantle; but I am afeard 'tis too much for the +mouldy weasand of such a old man as you," he said to the wrinkled +reveller. "Dostn't wish th' wast three sixes again, Grandfer, as you +was when you first learnt to sing it?" + +"Hey?" said Grandfer Cantle, stopping in his dance. + +"Dostn't wish wast young again, I say? There's a hole in thy poor +bellows nowadays seemingly." + +"But there's good art in me? If I couldn't make a little wind go a +long ways I should seem no younger than the most aged man, should I, +Timothy?" + +"And how about the new-married folks down there at the Quiet Woman +Inn?" the other inquired, pointing towards a dim light in the +direction of the distant highway, but considerably apart from where +the reddleman was at that moment resting. "What's the rights of the +matter about 'em? You ought to know, being an understanding man." + +"But a little rakish, hey? I own to it. Master Cantle is that, or +he's nothing. Yet 'tis a gay fault, neighbour Fairway, that age will +cure." + +"I heard that they were coming home to-night. By this time they must +have come. What besides?" + +"The next thing is for us to go and wish 'em joy, I suppose?" + +"Well, no." + +"No? Now, I thought we must. _I_ must, or 'twould be very unlike +me--the first in every spree that's going! + + + "Do thou´ put on´ a fri´-ar's coat´, + And I'll´ put on´ a-no´-ther, + And we´ will to´ Queen Ele´anor go´, + Like Fri´ar and´ his bro´ther. + + +"I met Mis'ess Yeobright, the young bride's aunt, last night, and she +told me that her son Clym was coming home a' Christmas. Wonderful +clever, 'a believe--ah, I should like to have all that's under that +young man's hair. Well, then, I spoke to her in my well-known merry +way, and she said, 'O that what's shaped so venerable should talk like +a fool!'--that's what she said to me. I don't care for her, be jowned +if I do, and so I told her. 'Be jowned if I care for 'ee,' I said. I +had her there--hey?" + +"I rather think she had you," said Fairway. + +"No," said Grandfer Cantle, his countenance slightly flagging. +"'Tisn't so bad as that with me?" + +"Seemingly 'tis; however, is it because of the wedding that Clym is +coming home a' Christmas--to make a new arrangement because his mother +is now left in the house alone?" + +"Yes, yes--that's it. But, Timothy, hearken to me," said the Grandfer +earnestly. "Though known as such a joker, I be an understanding man +if you catch me serious, and I am serious now. I can tell 'ee lots +about the married couple. Yes, this morning at six o'clock they went +up the country to do the job, and neither vell nor mark have been seen +of 'em since, though I reckon that this afternoon has brought 'em home +again man and woman--wife, that is. Isn't it spoke like a man, +Timothy, and wasn't Mis'ess Yeobright wrong about me?" + +"Yes, it will do. I didn't know the two had walked together since +last fall, when her aunt forbad the banns. How long has this new +set-to been mangling then? Do you know, Humphrey?" + +"Yes, how long?" said Grandfer Cantle smartly, likewise turning to +Humphrey. "I ask that question." + +"Ever since her aunt altered her mind, and said she might have the +man after all," replied Humphrey, without removing his eyes from the +fire. He was a somewhat solemn young fellow, and carried the hook +and leather gloves of a furze-cutter, his legs, by reason of that +occupation, being sheathed in bulging leggings as stiff as the +Philistine's greaves of brass. "That's why they went away to be +married, I count. You see, after kicking up such a nunny-watch +and forbidding the banns 'twould have made Mis'ess Yeobright seem +foolish-like to have a banging wedding in the same parish all as if +she'd never gainsaid it." + +"Exactly--seem foolish-like; and that's very bad for the poor things +that be so, though I only guess as much, to be sure," said Grandfer +Cantle, still strenuously preserving a sensible bearing and mien. + +"Ah, well, I was at church that day," said Fairway, "which was a very +curious thing to happen." + +"If 'twasn't my name's Simple," said the Grandfer emphatically. "I +ha'n't been there to-year; and now the winter is a-coming on I won't +say I shall." + +"I ha'n't been these three years," said Humphrey; "for I'm so dead +sleepy of a Sunday; and 'tis so terrible far to get there; and when +you do get there 'tis such a mortal poor chance that you'll be chose +for up above, when so many bain't, that I bide at home and don't go at +all." + +"I not only happened to be there," said Fairway, with a fresh +collection of emphasis, "but I was sitting in the same pew as Mis'ess +Yeobright. And though you may not see it as such, it fairly made my +blood run cold to hear her. Yes, it is a curious thing; but it made +my blood run cold, for I was close at her elbow." The speaker looked +round upon the bystanders, now drawing closer to hear him, with his +lips gathered tighter than ever in the rigorousness of his descriptive +moderation. + +"'Tis a serious job to have things happen to 'ee there," said a woman +behind. + +"'Ye are to declare it,' was the parson's words," Fairway continued. +"And then up stood a woman at my side--a-touching of me. 'Well, be +damned if there isn't Mis'ess Yeobright a-standing up,' I said to +myself. Yes, neighbours, though I was in the temple of prayer that's +what I said. 'Tis against my conscience to curse and swear in +company, and I hope any woman here will overlook it. Still what I did +say I did say, and 'twould be a lie if I didn't own it." + +"So 'twould, neighbour Fairway." + +"'Be damned if there isn't Mis'ess Yeobright a-standing up,' I +said," the narrator repeated, giving out the bad word with the same +passionless severity of face as before, which proved how entirely +necessity and not gusto had to do with the iteration. "And the next +thing I heard was, 'I forbid the banns,' from her. 'I'll speak to +you after the service,' said the parson, in quite a homely way--yes, +turning all at once into a common man no holier than you or I. Ah, her +face was pale! Maybe you can call to mind that monument in Weatherbury +church--the cross-legged soldier that have had his arm knocked away by +the school-children? Well, he would about have matched that woman's +face, when she said, 'I forbid the banns.'" + +The audience cleared their throats and tossed a few stalks into the +fire, not because these deeds were urgent, but to give themselves time +to weigh the moral of the story. + +"I'm sure when I heard they'd been forbid I felt as glad as if anybody +had gied me sixpence," said an earnest voice--that of Olly Dowden, a +woman who lived by making heath brooms, or besoms. Her nature was to +be civil to enemies as well as to friends, and grateful to all the +world for letting her remain alive. + +"And now the maid have married him just the same," said Humphrey. + +"After that Mis'ess Yeobright came round and was quite agreeable," +Fairway resumed, with an unheeding air, to show that his words were no +appendage to Humphrey's, but the result of independent reflection. + +"Supposing they were ashamed, I don't see why they shouldn't have +done it here-right," said a wide-spread woman whose stays creaked +like shoes whenever she stooped or turned. "'Tis well to call the +neighbours together and to hae a good racket once now and then; and it +may as well be when there's a wedding as at tide-times. I don't care +for close ways." + +"Ah, now, you'd hardly believe it, but I don't care for gay weddings," +said Timothy Fairway, his eyes again travelling round. "I hardly +blame Thomasin Yeobright and neighbour Wildeve for doing it quiet, if +I must own it. A wedding at home means five and six-handed reels by +the hour; and they do a man's legs no good when he's over forty." + +"True. Once at the woman's house you can hardly say nay to being one +in a jig, knowing all the time that you be expected to make yourself +worth your victuals." + +"You be bound to dance at Christmas because 'tis the time o' year; you +must dance at weddings because 'tis the time o' life. At christenings +folk will even smuggle in a reel or two, if 'tis no further on than +the first or second chiel. And this is not naming the songs you've +got to sing... For my part I like a good hearty funeral as well as +anything. You've as splendid victuals and drink as at other parties, +and even better. And it don't wear your legs to stumps in talking +over a poor fellow's ways as it do to stand up in hornpipes." + +"Nine folks out of ten would own 'twas going too far to dance then, I +suppose?" suggested Grandfer Cantle. + +"'Tis the only sort of party a staid man can feel safe at after the +mug have been round a few times." + +"Well, I can't understand a quiet lady-like little body like Tamsin +Yeobright caring to be married in such a mean way," said Susan +Nunsuch, the wide woman, who preferred the original subject. "'Tis +worse than the poorest do. And I shouldn't have cared about the man, +though some may say he's good-looking." + +"To give him his due he's a clever, learned fellow in his way--a'most +as clever as Clym Yeobright used to be. He was brought up to better +things than keeping the Quiet Woman. An engineer--that's what the man +was, as we know; but he threw away his chance, and so 'a took a public +house to live. His learning was no use to him at all." + +"Very often the case," said Olly, the besom-maker. "And yet how people +do strive after it and get it! The class of folk that couldn't use +to make a round O to save their bones from the pit can write their +names now without a sputter of the pen, oftentimes without a single +blot: what do I say?--why, almost without a desk to lean their +stomachs and elbows upon." + +"True: 'tis amazing what a polish the world have been brought to," +said Humphrey. + +"Why, afore I went a soldier in the Bang-up Locals (as we was called), +in the year four," chimed in Grandfer Cantle brightly, "I didn't know +no more what the world was like than the commonest man among ye. And +now, jown it all, I won't say what I bain't fit for, hey?" + +"Couldst sign the book, no doubt," said Fairway, "if wast young enough +to join hands with a woman again, like Wildeve and Mis'ess Tamsin, +which is more than Humph there could do, for he follows his father in +learning. Ah, Humph, well I can mind when I was married how I zid thy +father's mark staring me in the face as I went to put down my name. +He and your mother were the couple married just afore we were and +there stood they father's cross with arms stretched out like a great +banging scarecrow. What a terrible black cross that was--thy father's +very likeness in en! To save my soul I couldn't help laughing when I +zid en, though all the time I was as hot as dog-days, what with the +marrying, and what with the woman a-hanging to me, and what with Jack +Changley and a lot more chaps grinning at me through church window. +But the next moment a strawmote would have knocked me down, for I +called to mind that if thy father and mother had had high words once, +they'd been at it twenty times since they'd been man and wife, and I +zid myself as the next poor stunpoll to get into the same +mess... Ah--well, what a day 'twas!" + +"Wildeve is older than Tamsin Yeobright by a goodfew summers. A +pretty maid too she is. A young woman with a home must be a fool to +tear her smock for a man like that." + +The speaker, a peat or turf-cutter, who had newly joined the group, +carried across his shoulder the singular heart-shaped spade of large +dimensions used in that species of labour; and its well-whetted edge +gleamed like a silver bow in the beams of the fire. + +"A hundred maidens would have had him if he'd asked 'em," said the +wide woman. + +"Didst ever know a man, neighbour, that no woman at all would marry?" +inquired Humphrey. + +"I never did," said the turf-cutter. + +"Nor I," said another. + +"Nor I," said Grandfer Cantle. + +"Well, now, I did once," said Timothy Fairway, adding more firmness +to one of his legs. "I did know of such a man. But only once, mind." +He gave his throat a thorough rake round, as if it were the duty of +every person not to be mistaken through thickness of voice. "Yes, I +knew of such a man," he said. + +"And what ghastly gallicrow might the poor fellow have been like, +Master Fairway?" asked the turf-cutter. + +"Well, 'a was neither a deaf man, nor a dumb man, nor a blind man. +What 'a was I don't say." + +"Is he known in these parts?" said Olly Dowden. + +"Hardly," said Timothy; "but I name no name... Come, keep the fire up +there, youngsters." + +"Whatever is Christian Cantle's teeth a-chattering for?" said a boy +from amid the smoke and shades on the other side of the blaze. "Be ye +a-cold, Christian?" + +A thin jibbering voice was heard to reply, "No, not at all." + +"Come forward, Christian, and show yourself. I didn't know you were +here," said Fairway, with a humane look across towards that quarter. + +Thus requested, a faltering man, with reedy hair, no shoulders, and a +great quantity of wrist and ankle beyond his clothes, advanced a step +or two by his own will, and was pushed by the will of others half a +dozen steps more. He was Grandfer Cantle's youngest son. + +"What be ye quaking for, Christian?" said the turf-cutter kindly. + +"I'm the man." + +"What man?" + +"The man no woman will marry." + +"The deuce you be!" said Timothy Fairway, enlarging his gaze to cover +Christian's whole surface and a great deal more; Grandfer Cantle +meanwhile staring as a hen stares at the duck she has hatched. + +"Yes, I be he; and it makes me afeard," said Christian. "D'ye think +'twill hurt me? I shall always say I don't care, and swear to it, +though I do care all the while." + +"Well, be damned if this isn't the queerest start ever I know'd," +said Mr. Fairway. "I didn't mean you at all. There's another in the +country, then! Why did ye reveal yer misfortune, Christian?" + +"'Twas to be if 'twas, I suppose. I can't help it, can I?" He turned +upon them his painfully circular eyes, surrounded by concentric lines +like targets. + +"No, that's true. But 'tis a melancholy thing, and my blood ran cold +when you spoke, for I felt there were two poor fellows where I had +thought only one. 'Tis a sad thing for ye, Christian. How'st know +the women won't hae thee?" + +"I've asked 'em." + +"Sure I should never have thought you had the face. Well, and what +did the last one say to ye? Nothing that can't be got over, perhaps, +after all?" + +"'Get out of my sight, you slack-twisted, slim-looking maphrotight +fool,' was the woman's words to me." + +"Not encouraging, I own," said Fairway. "'Get out of my sight, you +slack-twisted, slim-looking maphrotight fool,' is rather a hard way of +saying No. But even that might be overcome by time and patience, so as +to let a few grey hairs show themselves in the hussy's head. How old +be you, Christian?" + +"Thirty-one last tatie-digging, Mister Fairway." + +"Not a boy--not a boy. Still there's hope yet." + +"That's my age by baptism, because that's put down in the great book +of the Judgment that they keep in church vestry; but mother told me I +was born some time afore I was christened." + +"Ah!" + +"But she couldn't tell when, to save her life, except that there was +no moon." + +"No moon: that's bad. Hey, neighbours, that's bad for him!" + +"Yes, 'tis bad," said Grandfer Cantle, shaking his head. + +"Mother know'd 'twas no moon, for she asked another woman that had an +almanac, as she did whenever a boy was born to her, because of the +saying, 'No moon, no man,' which made her afeard every man-child she +had. Do ye really think it serious, Mister Fairway, that there was no +moon?" + +"Yes; 'No moon, no man.' 'Tis one of the truest sayings ever spit out. +The boy never comes to anything that's born at new moon. A bad job +for thee, Christian, that you should have showed your nose then of all +days in the month." + +"I suppose the moon was terrible full when you were born?" said +Christian, with a look of hopeless admiration at Fairway. + +"Well, 'a was not new," Mr. Fairway replied, with a disinterested +gaze. + +"I'd sooner go without drink at Lammas-tide than be a man of no moon," +continued Christian, in the same shattered recitative. "'Tis said I +be only the rames of a man, and no good for my race at all; and I +suppose that's the cause o't." + +"Ay," said Grandfer Cantle, somewhat subdued in spirit; "and yet his +mother cried for scores of hours when 'a was a boy, for fear he should +outgrow hisself and go for a soldier." + +"Well, there's many just as bad as he." said Fairway. "Wethers must +live their time as well as other sheep, poor soul." + +"So perhaps I shall rub on? Ought I to be afeared o' nights, Master +Fairway?" + +"You'll have to lie alone all your life; and 'tis not to married +couples but to single sleepers that a ghost shows himself when 'a do +come. One has been seen lately, too. A very strange one." + +"No--don't talk about it if 'tis agreeable of ye not to! 'Twill make +my skin crawl when I think of it in bed alone. But you will--ah, you +will, I know, Timothy; and I shall dream all night o't! A very strange +one? What sort of a spirit did ye mean when ye said, a very strange +one, Timothy?--no, no--don't tell me." + +"I don't half believe in spirits myself. But I think it ghostly +enough--what I was told. 'Twas a little boy that zid it." + +"What was it like?--no, don't--" + +"A red one. Yes, most ghosts be white; but this is as if it had been +dipped in blood." + +Christian drew a deep breath without letting it expand his body, and +Humphrey said, "Where has it been seen?" + +"Not exactly here; but in this same heth. But 'tisn't a thing to +talk about. What do ye say," continued Fairway in brisker tones, and +turning upon them as if the idea had not been Grandfer Cantle's--"what +do you say to giving the new man and wife a bit of a song to-night +afore we go to bed--being their wedding-day? When folks are just +married 'tis as well to look glad o't, since looking sorry won't +unjoin 'em. I am no drinker, as we know, but when the womenfolk and +youngsters have gone home we can drop down across to the Quiet Woman, +and strike up a ballet in front of the married folks' door. 'Twill +please the young wife, and that's what I should like to do, for many's +the skinful I've had at her hands when she lived with her aunt at +Blooms-End." + +"Hey? And so we will!" said Grandfer Cantle, turning so briskly that +his copper seals swung extravagantly. "I'm as dry as a kex with biding +up here in the wind, and I haven't seen the colour of drink since +nammet-time today. 'Tis said that the last brew at the Woman is very +pretty drinking. And, neighbours, if we should be a little late in +the finishing, why, tomorrow's Sunday, and we can sleep it off?" + +"Grandfer Cantle! you take things very careless for an old man," said +the wide woman. + +"I take things careless; I do--too careless to please the women! Klk! +I'll sing the 'Jovial Crew,' or any other song, when a weak old man +would cry his eyes out. Jown it; I am up for anything. + + + "The king´ look'd o´ver his left´ shoul-der´, + And a grim´ look look´-ed hee´, + Earl Mar´-shal, he said´, but for´ my oath´ + Or hang´-ed thou´ shouldst bee´." + + +"Well, that's what we'll do," said Fairway. "We'll give 'em a song, +an' it please the Lord. What's the good of Thomasin's cousin Clym +a-coming home after the deed's done? He should have come afore, if so +be he wanted to stop it, and marry her himself." + +"Perhaps he's coming to bide with his mother a little time, as she +must feel lonely now the maid's gone." + +"Now, 'tis very odd, but I never feel lonely--no, not at all," said +Grandfer Cantle. "I am as brave in the night-time as a' admiral!" + +The bonfire was by this time beginning to sink low, for the fuel had +not been of that substantial sort which can support a blaze long. +Most of the other fires within the wide horizon were also dwindling +weak. Attentive observation of their brightness, colour, and length +of existence would have revealed the quality of the material burnt, +and through that, to some extent the natural produce of the district +in which each bonfire was situate. The clear, kingly effulgence that +had characterized the majority expressed a heath and furze country +like their own, which in one direction extended an unlimited number of +miles; the rapid flares and extinctions at other points of the compass +showed the lightest of fuel--straw, beanstalks, and the usual waste +from arable land. The most enduring of all--steady unaltering eyes +like Planets--signified wood, such as hazel-branches, thorn-faggots, +and stout billets. Fires of the last-mentioned materials were rare, +and though comparatively small in magnitude beside the transient +blazes, now began to get the best of them by mere long continuance. +The great ones had perished, but these remained. They occupied the +remotest visible positions--sky-backed summits rising out of rich +coppice and plantation districts to the north, where the soil was +different, and heath foreign and strange. + +Save one; and this was the nearest of any, the moon of the whole +shining throng. It lay in a direction precisely opposite to that of +the little window in the vale below. Its nearness was such that, +notwithstanding its actual smallness, its glow infinitely transcended +theirs. + +This quiet eye had attracted attention from time to time; and when +their own fire had become sunken and dim it attracted more; some even +of the wood fires more recently lighted had reached their decline, but +no change was perceptible here. + +"To be sure, how near that fire is!" said Fairway. "Seemingly. I can +see a fellow of some sort walking round it. Little and good must be +said of that fire, surely." + +"I can throw a stone there," said the boy. + +"And so can I!" said Grandfer Cantle. + +"No, no, you can't, my sonnies. That fire is not much less than a +mile off, for all that 'a seems so near." + +"'Tis in the heath, but not furze," said the turf-cutter. + +"'Tis cleft-wood, that's what 'tis," said Timothy Fairway. "Nothing +would burn like that except clean timber. And 'tis on the knap afore +the old captain's house at Mistover. Such a queer mortal as that man +is! To have a little fire inside your own bank and ditch, that nobody +else may enjoy it or come anigh it! And what a zany an old chap must +be, to light a bonfire when there's no youngsters to please." + +"Cap'n Vye has been for a long walk to-day, and is quite tired out," +said Grandfer Cantle, "so 'tisn't likely to be he." + +"And he would hardly afford good fuel like that," said the wide woman. + +"Then it must be his grand-daughter," said Fairway. "Not that a body +of her age can want a fire much." + +"She is very strange in her ways, living up there by herself, and such +things please her," said Susan. + +"She's a well-favoured maid enough," said Humphrey the furze-cutter; +"especially when she's got one of her dandy gowns on." + +"That's true," said Fairway. "Well, let her bonfire burn an't will. +Ours is well-nigh out by the look o't." + +"How dark 'tis now the fire's gone down!" said Christian Cantle, +looking behind him with his hare eyes. "Don't ye think we'd better +get home-along, neighbours? The heth isn't haunted, I know; but we'd +better get home... Ah, what was that?" + +"Only the wind," said the turf-cutter. + +"I don't think Fifth-of-Novembers ought to be kept up by night except +in towns. It should be by day in outstep, ill-accounted places like +this!" + +"Nonsense, Christian. Lift up your spirits like a man! Susy, dear, +you and I will have a jig--hey, my honey?--before 'tis quite too dark +to see how well-favoured you be still, though so many summers have +passed since your husband, a son of a witch, snapped you up from me." + +This was addressed to Susan Nunsuch; and the next circumstance of +which the beholders were conscious was a vision of the matron's broad +form whisking off towards the space whereon the fire had been kindled. +She was lifted bodily by Mr. Fairway's arm, which had been flung round +her waist before she had become aware of his intention. The site of +the fire was now merely a circle of ashes flecked with red embers +and sparks, the furze having burnt completely away. Once within the +circle he whirled her round and round in a dance. She was a woman +noisily constructed; in addition to her enclosing framework of +whalebone and lath, she wore pattens summer and winter, in wet weather +and in dry, to preserve her boots from wear; and when Fairway began to +jump about with her, the clicking of the pattens, the creaking of the +stays, and her screams of surprise, formed a very audible concert. + +"I'll crack thy numskull for thee, you mandy chap!" said Mrs. Nunsuch, +as she helplessly danced round with him, her feet playing like +drumsticks among the sparks. "My ankles were all in a fever before, +from walking through that prickly furze, and now you must make 'em +worse with these vlankers!" + +The vagary of Timothy Fairway was infectious. The turf-cutter seized +old Olly Dowden, and, somewhat more gently, poussetted with her +likewise. The young men were not slow to imitate the example of their +elders, and seized the maids; Grandfer Cantle and his stick jigged in +the form of a three-legged object among the rest; and in half a minute +all that could be seen on Rainbarrow was a whirling of dark shapes +amid a boiling confusion of sparks, which leapt around the dancers +as high as their waists. The chief noises were women's shrill +cries, men's laughter, Susan's stays and pattens, Olly Dowden's +"heu-heu-heu!" and the strumming of the wind upon the furze-bushes, +which formed a kind of tune to the demoniac measure they trod. +Christian alone stood aloof, uneasily rocking himself as he murmured, +"They ought not to do it--how the vlankers do fly! 'tis tempting the +Wicked one, 'tis." + +"What was that?" said one of the lads, stopping. + +"Ah--where?" said Christian, hastily closing up to the rest. + +The dancers all lessened their speed. + +"'Twas behind you, Christian, that I heard it--down there." + +"Yes--'tis behind me!" Christian said. "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and +John, bless the bed that I lie on; four angels guard--" + +"Hold your tongue. What is it?" said Fairway. + +"Hoi-i-i-i!" cried a voice from the darkness. + +"Halloo-o-o-o!" said Fairway. + +"Is there any cart track up across here to Mis'ess Yeobright's, +of Blooms-End?" came to them in the same voice, as a long, slim +indistinct figure approached the barrow. + +"Ought we not to run home as hard as we can, neighbours, as 'tis +getting late?" said Christian. "Not run away from one another, you +know; run close together, I mean." + +"Scrape up a few stray locks of furze, and make a blaze, so that we +can see who the man is," said Fairway. + +When the flame arose it revealed a young man in tight raiment, and red +from top to toe. "Is there a track across here to Mis'ess Yeobright's +house?" he repeated. + +"Ay--keep along the path down there." + +"I mean a way two horses and a van can travel over?" + +"Well, yes; you can get up the vale below here with time. The track +is rough, but if you've got a light your horses may pick along wi' +care. Have ye brought your cart far up, neighbour reddleman?" + +"I've left it in the bottom, about half a mile back. I stepped on in +front to make sure of the way, as 'tis night-time, and I han't been +here for so long." + +"Oh, well, you can get up," said Fairway. "What a turn it did give me +when I saw him!" he added to the whole group, the reddleman included. +"Lord's sake, I thought, whatever fiery mommet is this come to trouble +us? No slight to your looks, reddleman, for ye bain't bad-looking in +the groundwork, though the finish is queer. My meaning is just to +say how curious I felt. I half thought it 'twas the devil or the red +ghost the boy told of." + +"It gied me a turn likewise," said Susan Nunsuch, "for I had a dream +last night of a death's head." + +"Don't ye talk o't no more," said Christian. "If he had handkerchief +over his head he'd look for all the world like the Devil in the +picture of the Temptation." + +"Well, thank you for telling me," said the young reddleman, smiling +faintly. "And good night t'ye all." + +He withdrew from their sight down the barrow. + +"I fancy I've seen that young man's face before," said Humphrey. "But +where, or how, or what his name is, I don't know." + +The reddleman had not been gone more than a few minutes when another +person approached the partially revived bonfire. It proved to be a +well-known and respected widow of the neighbourhood, of a standing +which can only be expressed by the word genteel. Her face, +encompassed by the blackness of the receding heath, showed whitely, +and without half-lights, like a cameo. + +She was a woman of middle-age, with well-formed features of the type +usually found where perspicacity is the chief quality enthroned +within. At moments she seemed to be regarding issues from a Nebo +denied to others around. She had something of an estranged mien; the +solitude exhaled from the heath was concentrated in this face that +had risen from it. The air with which she looked at the heathmen +betokened a certain unconcern at their presence, or at what might be +their opinions of her for walking in that lonely spot at such an hour, +this indirectly implying that in some respect or other they were not +up to her level. The explanation lay in the fact that though her +husband had been a small farmer she herself was a curate's daughter, +who had once dreamt of doing better things. + +Persons with any weight of character carry, like planets, their +atmospheres along with them in their orbits; and the matron who +entered now upon the scene could, and usually did, bring her own +tone into a company. Her normal manner among the heathfolk had +that reticence which results from the consciousness of superior +communicative power. But the effect of coming into society and light +after lonely wandering in darkness is a sociability in the comer above +its usual pitch, expressed in the features even more than in words. + +"Why, 'tis Mis'ess Yeobright," said Fairway. "Mis'ess Yeobright, not +ten minutes ago a man was here asking for you--a reddleman." + +"What did he want?" said she. + +"He didn't tell us." + +"Something to sell, I suppose; what it can be I am at a loss to +understand." + +"I am glad to hear that your son Mr. Clym is coming home at Christmas, +ma'am," said Sam, the turf-cutter. "What a dog he used to be for +bonfires!" + +"Yes. I believe he is coming," she said. + +"He must be a fine fellow by this time," said Fairway. + +"He is a man now," she replied quietly. + +"'Tis very lonesome for 'ee in the heth tonight, mis'ess," said +Christian, coming from the seclusion he had hitherto maintained. +"Mind you don't get lost. Egdon Heth is a bad place to get lost in, +and the winds do huffle queerer tonight than ever I heard 'em afore. +Them that know Egdon best have been pixy-led here at times." + +"Is that you, Christian?" said Mrs. Yeobright. "What made you hide +away from me?" + +"'Twas that I didn't know you in this light, mis'ess; and being a +man of the mournfullest make, I was scared a little, that's all. +Oftentimes if you could see how terrible down I get in my mind, +'twould make 'ee quite nervous for fear I should die by my hand." + +"You don't take after your father," said Mrs. Yeobright, looking +towards the fire, where Grandfer Cantle, with some want of +originality, was dancing by himself among the sparks, as the others +had done before. + +"Now, Grandfer," said Timothy Fairway, "we are ashamed of ye. A +reverent old patriarch man as you be--seventy if a day--to go +hornpiping like that by yourself!" + +"A harrowing old man, Mis'ess Yeobright," said Christian despondingly. +"I wouldn't live with him a week, so playward as he is, if I could get +away." + +"'Twould be more seemly in ye to stand still and welcome Mis'ess +Yeobright, and you the venerablest here, Grandfer Cantle," said the +besom-woman. + +"Faith, and so it would," said the reveller checking himself +repentantly. "I've such a bad memory, Mis'ess Yeobright, that I +forget how I'm looked up to by the rest of 'em. My spirits must be +wonderful good, you'll say? But not always. 'Tis a weight upon a man +to be looked up to as commander, and I often feel it." + +"I am sorry to stop the talk," said Mrs. Yeobright. "But I must be +leaving you now. I was passing down the Anglebury Road, towards my +niece's new home, who is returning tonight with her husband; and +seeing the bonfire and hearing Olly's voice among the rest I came up +here to learn what was going on. I should like her to walk with me, as +her way is mine." + +"Ay, sure, ma'am, I'm just thinking of moving," said Olly. + +"Why, you'll be safe to meet the reddleman that I told ye of," said +Fairway. "He's only gone back to get his van. We heard that your +niece and her husband were coming straight home as soon as they were +married, and we are going down there shortly, to give 'em a song o' +welcome." + +"Thank you indeed," said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"But we shall take a shorter cut through the furze than you can go +with long clothes; so we won't trouble you to wait." + +"Very well--are you ready, Olly?" + +"Yes, ma'am. And there's a light shining from your niece's window, +see. It will help to keep us in the path." + +She indicated the faint light at the bottom of the valley which +Fairway had pointed out; and the two women descended the tumulus. + + + + +IV + +The Halt on the Turnpike Road + + +Down, downward they went, and yet further down--their descent at each +step seeming to outmeasure their advance. Their skirts were scratched +noisily by the furze, their shoulders brushed by the ferns, which, +though dead and dry, stood erect as when alive, no sufficient winter +weather having as yet arrived to beat them down. Their Tartarean +situation might by some have been called an imprudent one for two +unattended women. But these shaggy recesses were at all seasons a +familiar surrounding to Olly and Mrs. Yeobright; and the addition of +darkness lends no frightfulness to the face of a friend. + +"And so Tamsin has married him at last," said Olly, when the incline +had become so much less steep that their footsteps no longer required +undivided attention. + +Mrs. Yeobright answered slowly, "Yes: at last." + +"How you will miss her--living with 'ee as a daughter, as she always +have." + +"I do miss her." + +Olly, though without the tact to perceive when remarks were untimely, +was saved by her very simplicity from rendering them offensive. +Questions that would have been resented in others she could ask with +impunity. This accounted for Mrs. Yeobright's acquiescence in the +revival of an evidently sore subject. + +"I was quite strook to hear you'd agreed to it, ma'am, that I was," +continued the besom-maker. + +"You were not more struck by it than I should have been last year this +time, Olly. There are a good many sides to that wedding. I could not +tell you all of them, even if I tried." + +"I felt myself that he was hardly solid-going enough to mate with your +family. Keeping an inn--what is it? But 'a's clever, that's true, and +they say he was an engineering gentleman once, but has come down by +being too outwardly given." + +"I saw that, upon the whole, it would be better she should marry where +she wished." + +"Poor little thing, her feelings got the better of her, no doubt. +'Tis nature. Well, they may call him what they will--he've several +acres of heth-ground broke up here, besides the public house, and the +heth-croppers, and his manners be quite like a gentleman's. And what's +done cannot be undone." + +"It cannot," said Mrs. Yeobright. "See, here's the waggon-track at +last. Now we shall get along better." + +The wedding subject was no further dwelt upon; and soon a faint +diverging path was reached, where they parted company, Olly first +begging her companion to remind Mr. Wildeve that he had not sent +her sick husband the bottle of wine promised on the occasion of his +marriage. The besom-maker turned to the left towards her own house, +behind a spur of the hill, and Mrs. Yeobright followed the straight +track, which further on joined the highway by the Quiet Woman Inn, +whither she supposed her niece to have returned with Wildeve from +their wedding at Anglebury that day. + +She first reached Wildeve's Patch, as it was called, a plot of land +redeemed from the heath, and after long and laborious years brought +into cultivation. The man who had discovered that it could be tilled +died of the labour; the man who succeeded him in possession ruined +himself in fertilizing it. Wildeve came like Amerigo Vespucci, and +received the honours due to those who had gone before. + +When Mrs. Yeobright had drawn near to the inn, and was about to enter, +she saw a horse and vehicle some two hundred yards beyond it, coming +towards her, a man walking alongside with a lantern in his hand. It +was soon evident that this was the reddleman who had inquired for her. +Instead of entering the inn at once, she walked by it and towards the +van. + +The conveyance came close, and the man was about to pass her with +little notice, when she turned to him and said, "I think you have been +inquiring for me? I am Mrs. Yeobright of Blooms-End." + +The reddleman started, and held up his finger. He stopped the horses, +and beckoned to her to withdraw with him a few yards aside, which she +did, wondering. + +"You don't know me, ma'am, I suppose?" he said. + +"I do not," said she. "Why, yes, I do! You are young Venn--your +father was a dairyman somewhere here?" + +"Yes; and I knew your niece, Miss Tamsin, a little. I have something +bad to tell you." + +"About her--no! She has just come home, I believe, with her husband. +They arranged to return this afternoon--to the inn beyond here." + +"She's not there." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because she's here. She's in my van," he added slowly. + +"What new trouble has come?" murmured Mrs. Yeobright, putting her hand +over her eyes. + +"I can't explain much, ma'am. All I know is that, as I was going +along the road this morning, about a mile out of Anglebury, I heard +something trotting after me like a doe, and looking round there she +was, white as death itself. 'Oh, Diggory Venn!' she said, 'I thought +'twas you: will you help me? I am in trouble.'" + +"How did she know your Christian name?" said Mrs. Yeobright +doubtingly. + +"I had met her as a lad before I went away in this trade. She asked +then if she might ride, and then down she fell in a faint. I picked +her up and put her in, and there she has been ever since. She has +cried a good deal, but she has hardly spoke; all she has told me being +that she was to have been married this morning. I tried to get her to +eat something, but she couldn't; and at last she fell asleep." + +"Let me see her at once," said Mrs. Yeobright, hastening towards the +van. + +The reddleman followed with the lantern, and, stepping up first, +assisted Mrs. Yeobright to mount beside him. On the door being +opened she perceived at the end of the van an extemporized couch, +around which was hung apparently all the drapery that the reddleman +possessed, to keep the occupant of the little couch from contact with +the red materials of his trade. A young girl lay thereon, covered +with a cloak. She was asleep, and the light of the lantern fell upon +her features. + +A fair, sweet, and honest country face was revealed, reposing in a +nest of wavy chestnut hair. It was between pretty and beautiful. +Though her eyes were closed, one could easily imagine the light +necessarily shining in them as the culmination of the luminous +workmanship around. The groundwork of the face was hopefulness; but +over it now lay like a foreign substance a film of anxiety and grief. +The grief had been there so shortly as to have abstracted nothing +of the bloom, and had as yet but given a dignity to what it might +eventually undermine. The scarlet of her lips had not had time to +abate, and just now it appeared still more intense by the absence of +the neighbouring and more transient colour of her cheek. The lips +frequently parted, with a murmur of words. She seemed to belong +rightly to a madrigal--to require viewing through rhyme and harmony. + +One thing at least was obvious: she was not made to be looked at thus. +The reddleman had appeared conscious of as much, and, while Mrs. +Yeobright looked in upon her, he cast his eyes aside with a delicacy +which well became him. The sleeper apparently thought so too, for the +next moment she opened her own. + +The lips then parted with something of anticipation, something more +of doubt; and her several thoughts and fractions of thoughts, as +signalled by the changes on her face, were exhibited by the light to +the utmost nicety. An ingenuous, transparent life was disclosed, as +if the flow of her existence could be seen passing within her. She +understood the scene in a moment. + +"O yes, it is I, aunt," she cried. "I know how frightened you are, +and how you cannot believe it; but all the same, it is I who have come +home like this!" + +"Tamsin, Tamsin!" said Mrs. Yeobright, stooping over the young woman +and kissing her. "O my dear girl!" + +Thomasin was now on the verge of a sob, but by an unexpected +self-command she uttered no sound. With a gentle panting breath she +sat upright. + +"I did not expect to see you in this state, any more than you me," she +went on quickly. "Where am I, aunt?" + +"Nearly home, my dear. In Egdon Bottom. What dreadful thing is it?" + +"I'll tell you in a moment. So near, are we? Then I will get out and +walk. I want to go home by the path." + +"But this kind man who has done so much will, I am sure, take you +right on to my house?" said the aunt, turning to the reddleman, who +had withdrawn from the front of the van on the awakening of the girl, +and stood in the road. + +"Why should you think it necessary to ask me? I will, of course," +said he. + +"He is indeed kind," murmured Thomasin. "I was once acquainted with +him, aunt, and when I saw him today I thought I should prefer his van +to any conveyance of a stranger. But I'll walk now. Reddleman, stop +the horses, please." + +The man regarded her with tender reluctance, but stopped them. + +Aunt and niece then descended from the van, Mrs. Yeobright saying to +its owner, "I quite recognize you now. What made you change from the +nice business your father left you?" + +"Well, I did," he said, and looked at Thomasin, who blushed a little. +"Then you'll not be wanting me any more to-night, ma'am?" + +Mrs. Yeobright glanced around at the dark sky, at the hills, at the +perishing bonfires, and at the lighted window of the inn they had +neared. "I think not," she said, "since Thomasin wishes to walk. We +can soon run up the path and reach home: we know it well." + +And after a few further words they parted, the reddleman moving +onwards with his van, and the two women remaining standing in the +road. As soon as the vehicle and its driver had withdrawn so far as +to be beyond all possible reach of her voice, Mrs. Yeobright turned +to her niece. + +"Now, Thomasin," she said sternly, "what's the meaning of this +disgraceful performance?" + + + + +V + +Perplexity among Honest People + + +Thomasin looked as if quite overcome by her aunt's change of manner. +"It means just what it seems to mean: I am--not married," she replied +faintly. "Excuse me--for humiliating you, aunt, by this mishap: I am +sorry for it. But I cannot help it." + +"Me? Think of yourself first." + +"It was nobody's fault. When we got there the parson wouldn't marry +us because of some trifling irregularity in the license." + +"What irregularity?" + +"I don't know. Mr. Wildeve can explain. I did not think when I went +away this morning that I should come back like this." It being dark, +Thomasin allowed her emotion to escape her by the silent way of tears, +which could roll down her cheek unseen. + +"I could almost say that it serves you right--if I did not feel that +you don't deserve it," continued Mrs. Yeobright, who, possessing two +distinct moods in close contiguity, a gentle mood and an angry, flew +from one to the other without the least warning. "Remember, Thomasin, +this business was none of my seeking; from the very first, when you +began to feel foolish about that man, I warned you he would not make +you happy. I felt it so strongly that I did what I would never have +believed myself capable of doing--stood up in the church, and made +myself the public talk for weeks. But having once consented, I don't +submit to these fancies without good reason. Marry him you must after +this." + +"Do you think I wish to do otherwise for one moment?" said Thomasin, +with a heavy sigh. "I know how wrong it was of me to love him, but +don't pain me by talking like that, aunt! You would not have had me +stay there with him, would you?--and your house is the only home I +have to return to. He says we can be married in a day or two." + +"I wish he had never seen you." + +"Very well; then I will be the miserablest woman in the world, and not +let him see me again. No, I won't have him!" + +"It is too late to speak so. Come with me. I am going to the inn to +see if he has returned. Of course I shall get to the bottom of this +story at once. Mr. Wildeve must not suppose he can play tricks upon +me, or any belonging to me." + +"It was not that. The license was wrong, and he couldn't get another +the same day. He will tell you in a moment how it was, if he comes." + +"Why didn't he bring you back?" + +"That was me!" again sobbed Thomasin. "When I found we could not be +married I didn't like to come back with him, and I was very ill. Then +I saw Diggory Venn, and was glad to get him to take me home. I cannot +explain it any better, and you must be angry with me if you will." + +"I shall see about that," said Mrs. Yeobright; and they turned towards +the inn, known in the neighbourhood as the Quiet Woman, the sign of +which represented the figure of a matron carrying her head under her +arm, beneath which gruesome design was written the couplet so well +known to frequenters of the inn:-- + + + SINCE THE WOMAN'S QUIET + LET NO MAN BREED A RIOT. + + +The front of the house was towards the heath and Rainbarrow, whose +dark shape seemed to threaten it from the sky. Upon the door was +a neglected brass plate, bearing the unexpected inscription, "Mr. +Wildeve, Engineer"--a useless yet cherished relic from the time when +he had been started in that profession in an office at Budmouth by +those who had hoped much from him, and had been disappointed. The +garden was at the back, and behind this ran a still deep stream, +forming the margin of the heath in that direction, meadow-land +appearing beyond the stream. + +But the thick obscurity permitted only skylines to be visible of +any scene at present. The water at the back of the house could be +heard, idly spinning whirpools in its creep between the rows of dry +feather-headed reeds which formed a stockade along each bank. Their +presence was denoted by sounds as of a congregation praying humbly, +produced by their rubbing against each other in the slow wind. + +The window, whence the candlelight had shone up the vale to the eyes +of the bonfire group, was uncurtained, but the sill lay too high for +a pedestrian on the outside to look over it into the room. A vast +shadow, in which could be dimly traced portions of a masculine +contour, blotted half the ceiling. + +"He seems to be at home," said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Must I come in, too, aunt?" asked Thomasin faintly. "I suppose not; +it would be wrong." + +"You must come, certainly--to confront him, so that he may make no +false representations to me. We shall not be five minutes in the +house, and then we'll walk home." + +Entering the open passage she tapped at the door of the private +parlour, unfastened it, and looked in. + +The back and shoulders of a man came between Mrs. Yeobright's eyes and +the fire. Wildeve, whose form it was, immediately turned, arose, and +advanced to meet his visitors. + +He was quite a young man, and of the two properties, form and motion, +the latter first attracted the eye in him. The grace of his movement +was singular: it was the pantomimic expression of a lady-killing +career. Next came into notice the more material qualities, among +which was a profuse crop of hair impending over the top of his face, +lending to his forehead the high-cornered outline of an early Gothic +shield; and a neck which was smooth and round as a cylinder. The lower +half of his figure was of light build. Altogether he was one in whom +no man would have seen anything to admire, and in whom no woman would +have seen anything to dislike. + +He discerned the young girl's form in the passage, and said, +"Thomasin, then, has reached home. How could you leave me in that +way, darling?" And turning to Mrs. Yeobright: "It was useless to argue +with her. She would go, and go alone." + +"But what's the meaning of it all?" demanded Mrs. Yeobright haughtily. + +"Take a seat," said Wildeve, placing chairs for the two women. "Well, +it was a very stupid mistake, but such mistakes will happen. The +license was useless at Anglebury. It was made out for Budmouth, but +as I didn't read it I wasn't aware of that." + +"But you had been staying at Anglebury?" + +"No. I had been at Budmouth--till two days ago--and that was where I +had intended to take her; but when I came to fetch her we decided upon +Anglebury, forgetting that a new license would be necessary. There was +not time to get to Budmouth afterwards." + +"I think you are very much to blame," said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"It was quite my fault we chose Anglebury," Thomasin pleaded. "I +proposed it because I was not known there." + +"I know so well that I am to blame that you need not remind me of it," +replied Wildeve shortly. + +"Such things don't happen for nothing," said the aunt. "It is a great +slight to me and my family; and when it gets known there will be a +very unpleasant time for us. How can she look her friends in the face +tomorrow? It is a very great injury, and one I cannot easily forgive. +It may even reflect on her character." + +"Nonsense," said Wildeve. + +Thomasin's large eyes had flown from the face of one to the face of +the other during this discussion, and she now said anxiously, "Will +you allow me, aunt, to talk it over alone with Damon for five minutes? +Will you, Damon?" + +"Certainly, dear," said Wildeve, "if your aunt will excuse us." He led +her into an adjoining room, leaving Mrs. Yeobright by the fire. + +As soon as they were alone, and the door closed, Thomasin said, +turning up her pale, tearful face to him, "It is killing me, this, +Damon! I did not mean to part from you in anger at Anglebury this +morning; but I was frightened, and hardly knew what I said. I've not +let aunt know how much I have suffered to-day; and it is so hard to +command my face and voice, and to smile as if it were a slight thing +to me; but I try to do so, that she may not be still more indignant +with you. I know you could not help it, dear, whatever aunt may +think." + +"She is very unpleasant." + +"Yes," Thomasin murmured, "and I suppose I seem so now... Damon, what +do you mean to do about me?" + +"Do about you?" + +"Yes. Those who don't like you whisper things which at moments make me +doubt you. We mean to marry, I suppose, don't we?" + +"Of course we do. We have only to go to Budmouth on Monday, and we +marry at once." + +"Then do let us go!--O Damon, what you make me say!" She hid her +face in her handkerchief. "Here am I asking you to marry me, when +by rights you ought to be on your knees imploring me, your cruel +mistress, not to refuse you, and saying it would break your heart if I +did. I used to think it would be pretty and sweet like that; but how +different!" + +"Yes, real life is never at all like that." + +"But I don't care personally if it never takes place," she added with +a little dignity; "no, I can live without you. It is aunt I think of. +She is so proud, and thinks so much of her family respectability, +that she will be cut down with mortification if this story should +get abroad before--it is done. My cousin Clym, too, will be much +wounded." + +"Then he will be very unreasonable. In fact, you are all rather +unreasonable." + +Thomasin coloured a little, and not with love. But whatever the +momentary feeling which caused that flush in her, it went as it came, +and she humbly said, "I never mean to be, if I can help it. I merely +feel that you have my aunt to some extent in your power at last." + +"As a matter of justice it is almost due to me," said Wildeve. "Think +what I have gone through to win her consent; the insult that it is +to any man to have the banns forbidden: the double insult to a man +unlucky enough to be cursed with sensitiveness, and blue demons, +and Heaven knows what, as I am. I can never forget those banns. A +harsher man would rejoice now in the power I have of turning upon your +aunt by going no further in the business." + +She looked wistfully at him with her sorrowful eyes as he said those +words, and her aspect showed that more than one person in the room +could deplore the possession of sensitiveness. Seeing that she was +really suffering he seemed disturbed and added, "This is merely a +reflection you know. I have not the least intention to refuse to +complete the marriage, Tamsie mine--I could not bear it." + +"You could not, I know!" said the fair girl, brightening. "You, who +cannot bear the sight of pain in even an insect, or any disagreeable +sound, or unpleasant smell even, will not long cause pain to me and +mine." + +"I will not, if I can help it." + +"Your hand upon it, Damon." + +He carelessly gave her his hand. + +"Ah, by my crown, what's that?" he said suddenly. + +There fell upon their ears the sound of numerous voices singing in +front of the house. Among these, two made themselves prominent by +their peculiarity: one was a very strong bass, the other a wheezy thin +piping. Thomasin recognized them as belonging to Timothy Fairway and +Grandfer Cantle respectively. + +"What does it mean--it is not skimmity-riding, I hope?" she said, with +a frightened gaze at Wildeve. + +"Of course not; no, it is that the heath-folk have come to sing to +us a welcome. This is intolerable!" He began pacing about, the men +outside singing cheerily-- + + + "He told´ her that she´ was the joy´ of his life´. + And if´ she'd con-sent´ he would make her his wife´; + She could´ not refuse´ him; to church´ so they went´, + Young Will was forgot´, and young Sue´ was content´; + And then´ was she kiss'd´ and set down´ on his knee´, + No man´ in the world´ was so lov´-ing as he´!" + + +Mrs. Yeobright burst in from the outer room. "Thomasin, Thomasin!" +she said, looking indignantly at Wildeve; "here's a pretty exposure! +Let us escape at once. Come!" + +It was, however, too late to get away by the passage. A rugged +knocking had begun upon the door of the front room. Wildeve, who had +gone to the window, came back. + +"Stop!" he said imperiously, putting his hand upon Mrs. Yeobright's +arm. "We are regularly besieged. There are fifty of them out there +if there's one. You stay in this room with Thomasin; I'll go out and +face them. You must stay now, for my sake, till they are gone, so +that it may seem as if all was right. Come, Tamsie dear, don't go +making a scene--we must marry after this; that you can see as well as +I. Sit still, that's all--and don't speak much. I'll manage them. +Blundering fools!" + +He pressed the agitated girl into a seat, returned to the outer room +and opened the door. Immediately outside, in the passage, appeared +Grandfer Cantle singing in concert with those still standing in +front of the house. He came into the room and nodded abstractedly +to Wildeve, his lips still parted, and his features excruciatingly +strained in the emission of the chorus. This being ended, he said +heartily, "Here's welcome to the newmade couple, and God bless 'em!" + +"Thank you," said Wildeve, with dry resentment, his face as gloomy as +a thunderstorm. + +At the Grandfer's heels now came the rest of the group, which included +Fairway, Christian, Sam the turf-cutter, Humphrey, and a dozen others. +All smiled upon Wildeve, and upon his tables and chairs likewise, +from a general sense of friendliness towards the articles as well as +towards their owner. + +"We be not here afore Mrs. Yeobright after all," said Fairway, +recognizing the matron's bonnet through the glass partition which +divided the public apartment they had entered from the room where the +women sat. "We struck down across, d'ye see, Mr. Wildeve, and she +went round by the path." + +"And I see the young bride's little head!" said Grandfer, peeping in +the same direction, and discerning Thomasin, who was waiting beside +her aunt in a miserable and awkward way. "Not quite settled in +yet--well, well, there's plenty of time." + +Wildeve made no reply; and probably feeling that the sooner he treated +them the sooner they would go, he produced a stone jar, which threw a +warm halo over matters at once. + +"That's a drop of the right sort, I can see," said Grandfer Cantle, +with the air of a man too well-mannered to show any hurry to taste +it. + +"Yes," said Wildeve, "'tis some old mead. I hope you will like it." + +"O ay!" replied the guests, in the hearty tones natural when the words +demanded by politeness coincide with those of deepest feeling. "There +isn't a prettier drink under the sun." + +"I'll take my oath there isn't," added Grandfer Cantle. "All that can +be said against mead is that 'tis rather heady, and apt to lie about a +man a good while. But tomorrow's Sunday, thank God." + +"I feel'd for all the world like some bold soldier after I had had +some once," said Christian. + +"You shall feel so again," said Wildeve, with condescension, "Cups or +glasses, gentlemen?" + +"Well, if you don't mind, we'll have the beaker, and pass 'en round; +'tis better than heling it out in dribbles." + +"Jown the slippery glasses," said Grandfer Cantle. "What's the good +of a thing that you can't put down in the ashes to warm, hey, +neighbours; that's what I ask?" + +"Right, Grandfer," said Sam; and the mead then circulated. + +"Well," said Timothy Fairway, feeling demands upon his praise in some +form or other, "'tis a worthy thing to be married, Mr. Wildeve; and +the woman you've got is a dimant, so says I. Yes," he continued, to +Grandfer Cantle, raising his voice so as to be heard through the +partition, "her father (inclining his head towards the inner room) was +as good a feller as ever lived. He always had his great indignation +ready against anything underhand." + +"Is that very dangerous?" said Christian. + +"And there were few in these parts that were upsides with him," said +Sam. "Whenever a club walked he'd play the clarinet in the band that +marched before 'em as if he'd never touched anything but a clarinet +all his life. And then, when they got to church door he'd throw down +the clarinet, mount the gallery, snatch up the bass-viol, and rozum +away as if he'd never played anything but a bass-viol. Folk would +say--folk that knowed what a true stave was--'Surely, surely that's +never the same man that I saw handling the clarinet so masterly by +now!" + +"I can mind it," said the furze-cutter. "'Twas a wonderful thing that +one body could hold it all and never mix the fingering." + +"There was Kingsbere church likewise," Fairway recommenced, as one +opening a new vein of the same mine of interest. + +Wildeve breathed the breath of one intolerably bored, and glanced +through the partition at the prisoners. + +"He used to walk over there of a Sunday afternoon to visit his old +acquaintance Andrew Brown, the first clarinet there; a good man +enough, but rather screechy in his music, if you can mind?" + +"'A was." + +"And neighbour Yeobright would take Andrey's place for some part of +the service, to let Andrey have a bit of a nap, as any friend would +naturally do." + +"As any friend would," said Grandfer Cantle, the other listeners +expressing the same accord by the shorter way of nodding their heads. + +"No sooner was Andrey asleep and the first whiff of neighbour +Yeobright's wind had got inside Andrey's clarinet than everyone in +church feeled in a moment there was a great soul among 'em. All heads +would turn, and they'd say, 'Ah, I thought 'twas he!' One Sunday I can +well mind--a bass-viol day that time, and Yeobright had brought his +own. 'Twas the Hundred-and-thirty-third to 'Lydia'; and when they'd +come to 'Ran down his beard and o'er his robes its costly moisture +shed,' neighbour Yeobright, who had just warmed to his work, drove his +bow into them strings that glorious grand that he e'en a'most sawed +the bass-viol into two pieces. Every winder in church rattled as if +'twere a thunderstorm. Old Pa'son Williams lifted his hands in his +great holy surplice as natural as if he'd been in common clothes, and +seemed to say to hisself, 'O for such a man in our parish!' But not a +soul in Kingsbere could hold a candle to Yeobright." + +"Was it quite safe when the winder shook?" Christian inquired. + +He received no answer, all for the moment sitting rapt in admiration +of the performance described. As with Farinelli's singing before the +princesses, Sheridan's renowned Begum Speech, and other such examples, +the fortunate condition of its being for ever lost to the world +invested the deceased Mr. Yeobright's _tour de force_ on that +memorable afternoon with a cumulative glory which comparative +criticism, had that been possible, might considerably have shorn down. + +"He was the last you'd have expected to drop off in the prime of +life," said Humphrey. + +"Ah, well: he was looking for the earth some months afore he went. At +that time women used to run for smocks and gown-pieces at Greenhill +Fair, and my wife that is now, being a long-legged slittering maid, +hardly husband-high, went with the rest of the maidens, for 'a was +a good runner afore she got so heavy. When she came home I said--we +were then just beginning to walk together--'What have ye got, my +honey?' 'I've won--well, I've won--a gown-piece,' says she, her +colours coming up in a moment. 'Tis a smock for a crown, I thought; +and so it turned out. Ay, when I think what she'll say to me now +without a mossel of red in her face, it do seem strange that 'a +wouldn't say such a little thing then... However, then she went on, +and that's what made me bring up the story. 'Well, whatever clothes +I've won, white or figured, for eyes to see or for eyes not to see' +('a could do a pretty stroke of modesty in those days), 'I'd sooner +have lost it than have seen what I have. Poor Mr. Yeobright was took +bad directly he reached the fair ground, and was forced to go home +again.' That was the last time he ever went out of the parish." + +"'A faltered on from one day to another, and then we heard he was +gone." + +"D'ye think he had great pain when 'a died?" said Christian. + +"O no: quite different. Nor any pain of mind. He was lucky enough to +be God A'mighty's own man." + +"And other folk--d'ye think 'twill be much pain to 'em, Mister +Fairway?" + +"That depends on whether they be afeard." + +"I bain't afeard at all, I thank God!" said Christian strenuously. +"I'm glad I bain't, for then 'twon't pain me... I don't think I be +afeard--or if I be I can't help it, and I don't deserve to suffer. I +wish I was not afeard at all!" + +There was a solemn silence, and looking from the window, which was +unshuttered and unblinded, Timothy said, "Well, what a fess little +bonfire that one is, out by Cap'n Vye's! 'Tis burning just the same +now as ever, upon my life." + +All glances went through the window, and nobody noticed that Wildeve +disguised a brief, telltale look. Far away up the sombre valley of +heath, and to the right of Rainbarrow, could indeed be seen the light, +small, but steady and persistent as before. + +"It was lighted before ours was," Fairway continued; "and yet every +one in the country round is out afore 'n." + +"Perhaps there's meaning in it!" murmured Christian. + +"How meaning?" said Wildeve sharply. + +Christian was too scattered to reply, and Timothy helped him. + +"He means, sir, that the lonesome dark-eyed creature up there that +some say is a witch--ever I should call a fine young woman such a +name--is always up to some odd conceit or other; and so perhaps 'tis +she." + +"I'd be very glad to ask her in wedlock, if she'd hae me, and take +the risk of her wild dark eyes ill-wishing me," said Grandfer Cantle +staunchly. + +"Don't ye say it, father!" implored Christian. + +"Well, be dazed if he who do marry the maid won't hae an uncommon +picture for his best parlour," said Fairway in a liquid tone, placing +down the cup of mead at the end of a good pull. + +"And a partner as deep as the North Star," said Sam, taking up the cup +and finishing the little that remained. "Well, really, now I think we +must be moving," said Humphrey, observing the emptiness of the vessel. + + +"But we'll gie 'em another song?" said Grandfer Cantle. "I'm as full +of notes as a bird!" + +"Thank you, Grandfer," said Wildeve. "But we will not trouble you +now. Some other day must do for that--when I have a party." + +"Be jown'd if I don't learn ten new songs for't, or I won't learn a +line!" said Grandfer Cantle. "And you may be sure I won't disappoint +ye by biding away, Mr. Wildeve." + +"I quite believe you," said that gentleman. + +All then took their leave, wishing their entertainer long life and +happiness as a married man, with recapitulations which occupied some +time. Wildeve attended them to the door, beyond which the deep-dyed +upward stretch of heath stood awaiting them, an amplitude of darkness +reigning from their feet almost to the zenith, where a definite form +first became visible in the lowering forehead of Rainbarrow. Diving +into the dense obscurity in a line headed by Sam the turf-cutter, they +pursued their trackless way home. + +When the scratching of the furze against their leggings had fainted +upon the ear, Wildeve returned to the room where he had left Thomasin +and her aunt. The women were gone. + +They could only have left the house in one way, by the back window; +and this was open. + +Wildeve laughed to himself, remained a moment thinking, and idly +returned to the front room. Here his glance fell upon a bottle of +wine which stood on the mantelpiece. "Ah--old Dowden!" he murmured; +and going to the kitchen door shouted, "Is anybody here who can take +something to old Dowden?" + +There was no reply. The room was empty, the lad who acted as his +factotum having gone to bed. Wildeve came back put on his hat, took +the bottle, and left the house, turning the key in the door, for there +was no guest at the inn tonight. As soon as he was on the road the +little bonfire on Mistover Knap again met his eye. + +"Still waiting, are you, my lady?" he murmured. + +However, he did not proceed that way just then; but leaving the hill +to the left of him, he stumbled over a rutted road that brought him to +a cottage which, like all other habitations on the heath at this hour, +was only saved from being visible by a faint shine from its bedroom +window. This house was the home of Olly Dowden, the besom-maker, and +he entered. + +The lower room was in darkness; but by feeling his way he found a +table, whereon he placed the bottle, and a minute later emerged again +upon the heath. He stood and looked north-east at the undying little +fire--high up above him, though not so high as Rainbarrow. + +We have been told what happens when a woman deliberates; and the +epigram is not always terminable with woman, provided that one be in +the case, and that a fair one. Wildeve stood, and stood longer, and +breathed perplexedly, and then said to himself with resignation, +"Yes--by Heaven, I must go to her, I suppose!" + +Instead of turning in the direction of home he pressed on rapidly by a +path under Rainbarrow towards what was evidently a signal light. + + + + +VI + +The Figure against the Sky + + +When the whole Egdon concourse had left the site of the bonfire to its +accustomed loneliness, a closely wrapped female figure approached the +barrow from that quarter of the heath in which the little fire lay. +Had the reddleman been watching he might have recognized her as the +woman who had first stood there so singularly, and vanished at the +approach of strangers. She ascended to her old position at the top, +where the red coals of the perishing fire greeted her like living eyes +in the corpse of day. There she stood still, around her stretching the +vast night atmosphere, whose incomplete darkness in comparison with +the total darkness of the heath below it might have represented a +venial beside a mortal sin. + +That she was tall and straight in build, that she was lady-like in +her movements, was all that could be learnt of her just now, her form +being wrapped in a shawl folded in the old cornerwise fashion, and +her head in a large kerchief, a protection not superfluous at this +hour and place. Her back was towards the wind, which blew from the +north-west; but whether she had avoided that aspect because of the +chilly gusts which played about her exceptional position, or because +her interest lay in the south-east, did not at first appear. + +Her reason for standing so dead still as the pivot of this circle +of heath-country was just as obscure. Her extraordinary fixity, her +conspicuous loneliness, her heedlessness of night, betokened among +other things an utter absence of fear. A tract of country unaltered +from that sinister condition which made Caesar anxious every year +to get clear of its glooms before the autumnal equinox, a kind of +landscape and weather which leads travellers from the South to +describe our island as Homer's Cimmerian land, was not, on the face +of it, friendly to women. + +It might reasonably have been supposed that she was listening to the +wind, which rose somewhat as the night advanced, and laid hold of the +attention. The wind, indeed, seemed made for the scene, as the scene +seemed made for the hour. Part of its tone was quite special; what +was heard there could be heard nowhere else. Gusts in innumerable +series followed each other from the north-west, and when each one +of them raced past the sound of its progress resolved into three. +Treble, tenor, and bass notes were to be found therein. The general +ricochet of the whole over pits and prominences had the gravest pitch +of the chime. Next there could be heard the baritone buzz of a holly +tree. Below these in force, above them in pitch, a dwindled voice +strove hard at a husky tune, which was the peculiar local sound +alluded to. Thinner and less immediately traceable than the other +two, it was far more impressive than either. In it lay what may be +called the linguistic peculiarity of the heath; and being audible +nowhere on earth off a heath, it afforded a shadow of reason for the +woman's tenseness, which continued as unbroken as ever. + +Throughout the blowing of these plaintive November winds that note +bore a great resemblance to the ruins of human song which remain +to the throat of fourscore and ten. It was a worn whisper, dry and +papery, and it brushed so distinctly across the ear that, by the +accustomed, the material minutiae in which it originated could be +realized as by touch. It was the united products of infinitesimal +vegetable causes, and these were neither stems, leaves, fruit, blades, +prickles, lichen, nor moss. + +They were the mummied heath-bells of the past summer, originally +tender and purple, now washed colourless by Michaelmas rains, and +dried to dead skins by October suns. So low was an individual sound +from these that a combination of hundreds only just emerged from +silence, and the myriads of the whole declivity reached the woman's +ear but as a shrivelled and intermittent recitative. Yet scarcely a +single accent among the many afloat to-night could have such power to +impress a listener with thoughts of its origin. One inwardly saw the +infinity of those combined multitudes; and perceived that each of the +tiny trumpets was seized on, entered, scoured and emerged from by the +wind as thoroughly as if it were as vast as a crater. + +"The spirit moved them." A meaning of the phrase forced itself upon +the attention; and an emotional listener's fetichistic mood might have +ended in one of more advanced quality. It was not, after all, that +the left-hand expanse of old blooms spoke, or the right-hand, or those +of the slope in front; but it was the single person of something else +speaking through each at once. + +Suddenly, on the barrow, there mingled with all this wild rhetoric +of night a sound which modulated so naturally into the rest that its +beginning and ending were hardly to be distinguished. The bluffs, and +the bushes, and the heather-bells had broken silence; at last, so did +the woman; and her articulation was but as another phrase of the same +discourse as theirs. Thrown out on the winds it became twined in with +them, and with them it flew away. + +What she uttered was a lengthened sighing, apparently at something in +her mind which had led to her presence here. There was a spasmodic +abandonment about it as if, in allowing herself to utter the sound. +the woman's brain had authorized what it could not regulate. One +point was evident in this; that she had been existing in a suppressed +state, and not in one of languor, or stagnation. + +Far away down the valley the faint shine from the window of the inn +still lasted on; and a few additional moments proved that the window, +or what was within it, had more to do with the woman's sigh than had +either her own actions or the scene immediately around. She lifted +her left hand, which held a closed telescope. This she rapidly +extended, as if she were well accustomed to the operation, and raising +it to her eye directed it towards the light beaming from the inn. + +The handkerchief which had hooded her head was now a little thrown +back, her face being somewhat elevated. A profile was visible against +the dull monochrome of cloud around her; and it was as though side +shadows from the features of Sappho and Mrs. Siddons had converged +upwards from the tomb to form an image like neither but suggesting +both. This, however, was mere superficiality. In respect of +character a face may make certain admissions by its outline; but +it fully confesses only in its changes. So much is this the case +that what is called the play of the features often helps more in +understanding a man or woman than the earnest labours of all the other +members together. Thus the night revealed little of her whose form it +was embracing, for the mobile parts of her countenance could not be +seen. + +At last she gave up her spying attitude, closed the telescope, and +turned to the decaying embers. From these no appreciable beams now +radiated, except when a more than usually smart gust brushed over +their faces and raised a fitful glow which came and went like the +blush of a girl. She stooped over the silent circle, and selecting +from the brands a piece of stick which bore the largest live coal at +its end, brought it to where she had been standing before. + +She held the brand to the ground, blowing the red coal with her mouth +at the same time; till it faintly illuminated the sod, and revealed +a small object, which turned out to be an hourglass, though she wore +a watch. She blew long enough to show that the sand had all slipped +through. + +"Ah!" she said, as if surprised. + +The light raised by her breath had been very fitful, and a momentary +irradiation of flesh was all that it had disclosed of her face. That +consisted of two matchless lips and a cheek only, her head being still +enveloped. She threw away the stick, took the glass in her hand, the +telescope under her arm, and moved on. + +Along the ridge ran a faint foot-track, which the lady followed. +Those who knew it well called it a path; and, while a mere visitor +would have passed it unnoticed even by day, the regular haunters of +the heath were at no loss for it at midnight. The whole secret of +following these incipient paths, when there was not light enough in +the atmosphere to show a turnpike-road, lay in the development of the +sense of touch in the feet, which comes with years of night-rambling +in little-trodden spots. To a walker practised in such places a +difference between impact on maiden herbage, and on the crippled +stalks of a slight footway, is perceptible through the thickest boot +or shoe. + +The solitary figure who walked this beat took no notice of the windy +tune still played on the dead heath-bells. She did not turn her head +to look at a group of dark creatures further on, who fled from her +presence as she skirted a ravine where they fed. They were about a +score of the small wild ponies known as heath-croppers. They roamed at +large on the undulations of Egdon, but in numbers too few to detract +much from the solitude. + +The pedestrian noticed nothing just now, and a clue to her abstraction +was afforded by a trivial incident. A bramble caught hold of her +skirt, and checked her progress. Instead of putting it off and +hastening along, she yielded herself up to the pull, and stood +passively still. When she began to extricate herself it was by +turning round and round, and so unwinding the prickly switch. She was +in a desponding reverie. + +Her course was in the direction of the small undying fire which had +drawn the attention of the men on Rainbarrow and of Wildeve in the +valley below. A faint illumination from its rays began to glow upon +her face, and the fire soon revealed itself to be lit, not on the +level ground, but on a salient corner or redan of earth, at the +junction of two converging bank fences. Outside was a ditch, dry +except immediately under the fire, where there was a large pool, +bearded all round by heather and rushes. In the smooth water of the +pool the fire appeared upside down. + +The banks meeting behind were bare of a hedge, save such as was formed +by disconnected tufts of furze, standing upon stems along the top, +like impaled heads above a city wall. A white mast, fitted up with +spars and other nautical tackle, could be seen rising against the +dark clouds whenever the flames played brightly enough to reach it. +Altogether the scene had much the appearance of a fortification upon +which had been kindled a beacon fire. + +Nobody was visible; but ever and anon a whitish something moved above +the bank from behind, and vanished again. This was a small human +hand, in the act of lifting pieces of fuel into the fire; but for all +that could be seen the hand, like that which troubled Belshazzar, was +there alone. Occasionally an ember rolled off the bank, and dropped +with a hiss into the pool. + +At one side of the pool rough steps built of clods enabled any one +who wished to do so to mount the bank; which the woman did. Within +was a paddock in an uncultivated state, though bearing evidence of +having once been tilled; but the heath and fern had insidiously crept +in, and were reasserting their old supremacy. Further ahead were +dimly visible an irregular dwelling-house, garden, and outbuildings, +backed by a clump of firs. + +The young lady--for youth had revealed its presence in her buoyant +bound up the bank--walked along the top instead of descending inside, +and came to the corner where the fire was burning. One reason for the +permanence of the blaze was now manifest: the fuel consisted of hard +pieces of wood, cleft and sawn--the knotty boles of old thorn trees +which grew in twos and threes about the hillsides. A yet unconsumed +pile of these lay in the inner angle of the bank; and from this corner +the upturned face of a little boy greeted her eyes. He was dilatorily +throwing up a piece of wood into the fire every now and then, a +business which seemed to have engaged him a considerable part of the +evening, for his face was somewhat weary. + +"I am glad you have come, Miss Eustacia," he said, with a sigh of +relief. "I don't like biding by myself." + +"Nonsense. I have only been a little way for a walk. I have been gone +only twenty minutes." + +"It seemed long," murmured the sad boy. "And you have been so many +times." + +"Why, I thought you would be pleased to have a bonfire. Are you not +much obliged to me for making you one?" + +"Yes; but there's nobody here to play wi' me." + +"I suppose nobody has come while I've been away?" + +"Nobody except your grandfather: he looked out of doors once for 'ee. +I told him you were walking round upon the hill to look at the other +bonfires." + +"A good boy." + +"I think I hear him coming again, miss." + +An old man came into the remoter light of the fire from the direction +of the homestead. He was the same who had overtaken the reddleman on +the road that afternoon. He looked wistfully to the top of the bank at +the woman who stood there, and his teeth, which were quite unimpaired, +showed like parian from his parted lips. + +"When are you coming indoors, Eustacia?" he asked. "'Tis almost +bedtime. I've been home these two hours, and am tired out. Surely +'tis somewhat childish of you to stay out playing at bonfires so long, +and wasting such fuel. My precious thorn roots, the rarest of all +firing, that I laid by on purpose for Christmas--you have burnt 'em +nearly all!" + +"I promised Johnny a bonfire, and it pleases him not to let it go out +just yet," said Eustacia, in a way which told at once that she was +absolute queen here. "Grandfather, you go in to bed. I shall follow +you soon. You like the fire, don't you, Johnny?" + +The boy looked up doubtfully at her and murmured, "I don't think I +want it any longer." + +Her grandfather had turned back again, and did not hear the boy's +reply. As soon as the white-haired man had vanished she said in a +tone of pique to the child, "Ungrateful little boy, how can you +contradict me? Never shall you have a bonfire again unless you keep +it up now. Come, tell me you like to do things for me, and don't deny +it." + +The repressed child said, "Yes, I do, miss," and continued to stir the +fire perfunctorily. + +"Stay a little longer and I will give you a crooked six-pence," said +Eustacia, more gently. "Put in one piece of wood every two or three +minutes, but not too much at once. I am going to walk along the ridge +a little longer, but I shall keep on coming to you. And if you hear a +frog jump into the pond with a flounce like a stone thrown in, be sure +you run and tell me, because it is a sign of rain." + +"Yes, Eustacia." + +"Miss Vye, sir." + +"Miss Vy--stacia." + +"That will do. Now put in one stick more." + +The little slave went on feeding the fire as before. He seemed a +mere automaton, galvanized into moving and speaking by the wayward +Eustacia's will. He might have been the brass statue which Albertus +Magnus is said to have animated just so far as to make it chatter, +and move, and be his servant. + +Before going on her walk again the young girl stood still on the +bank for a few instants and listened. It was to the full as lonely a +place as Rainbarrow, though at rather a lower level; and it was more +sheltered from wind and weather on account of the few firs to the +north. The bank which enclosed the homestead, and protected it from +the lawless state of the world without, was formed of thick square +clods, dug from the ditch on the outside, and built up with a slight +batter or incline, which forms no slight defense where hedges will not +grow because of the wind and the wilderness, and where wall materials +are unattainable. Otherwise the situation was quite open, commanding +the whole length of the valley which reached to the river behind +Wildeve's house. High above this to the right, and much nearer +thitherward than the Quiet Woman Inn, the blurred contour of +Rainbarrow obstructed the sky. + +After her attentive survey of the wild slopes and hollow ravines a +gesture of impatience escaped Eustacia. She vented petulant words +every now and then, but there were sighs between her words, and sudden +listenings between her sighs. Descending from her perch she again +sauntered off towards Rainbarrow, though this time she did not go the +whole way. + +Twice she reappeared at intervals of a few minutes and each time she +said-- + +"Not any flounce into the pond yet, little man?" + +"No, Miss Eustacia," the child replied. + +"Well," she said at last, "I shall soon be going in, and then I will +give you the crooked sixpence, and let you go home." + +"Thank'ee, Miss Eustacia," said the tired stoker, breathing more +easily. And Eustacia again strolled away from the fire, but this time +not towards Rainbarrow. She skirted the bank and went round to the +wicket before the house, where she stood motionless, looking at the +scene. + +Fifty yards off rose the corner of the two converging banks, with the +fire upon it; within the bank, lifting up to the fire one stick at +a time, just as before, the figure of the little child. She idly +watched him as he occasionally climbed up in the nook of the bank and +stood beside the brands. The wind blew the smoke, and the child's +hair, and the corner of his pinafore, all in the same direction; the +breeze died, and the pinafore and hair lay still, and the smoke went +up straight. + +While Eustacia looked on from this distance the boy's form visibly +started: he slid down the bank and ran across towards the white gate. + +"Well?" said Eustacia. + +"A hop-frog have jumped into the pond. Yes, I heard 'en!" + +"Then it is going to rain, and you had better go home. You will not +be afraid?" She spoke hurriedly, as if her heart had leapt into her +throat at the boy's words. + +"No, because I shall hae the crooked sixpence." + +"Yes, here it is. Now run as fast as you can--not that way--through +the garden here. No other boy in the heath has had such a bonfire as +yours." + +The boy, who clearly had had too much of a good thing, marched away +into the shadows with alacrity. When he was gone Eustacia, leaving +her telescope and hour-glass by the gate, brushed forward from the +wicket towards the angle of the bank, under the fire. + +Here, screened by the outwork, she waited. In a few moments a splash +was audible from the pond outside. Had the child been there he would +have said that a second frog had jumped in; but by most people the +sound would have been likened to the fall of a stone into the water. +Eustacia stepped upon the bank. + +"Yes?" she said, and held her breath. + +Thereupon the contour of a man became dimly visible against the +low-reaching sky over the valley, beyond the outer margin of the pool. +He came round it and leapt upon the bank beside her. A low laugh +escaped her--the third utterance which the girl had indulged in +tonight. The first, when she stood upon Rainbarrow, had expressed +anxiety; the second, on the ridge, had expressed impatience; the +present was one of triumphant pleasure. She let her joyous eyes rest +upon him without speaking, as upon some wondrous thing she had created +out of chaos. + +"I have come," said the man, who was Wildeve. "You give me no peace. +Why do you not leave me alone? I have seen your bonfire all the +evening." The words were not without emotion, and retained their +level tone as if by a careful equipoise between imminent extremes. + +At this unexpectedly repressing manner in her lover the girl seemed to +repress herself also. "Of course you have seen my fire," she answered +with languid calmness, artificially maintained. "Why shouldn't I have +a bonfire on the Fifth of November, like other denizens of the heath?" + +"I knew it was meant for me." + +"How did you know it? I have had no word with you since you--you +chose her, and walked about with her, and deserted me entirely, as if +I had never been yours life and soul so irretrievably!" + +"Eustacia! could I forget that last autumn at this same day of the +month and at this same place you lighted exactly such a fire as a +signal for me to come and see you? Why should there have been a +bonfire again by Captain Vye's house if not for the same purpose?" + +"Yes, yes--I own it," she cried under her breath, with a drowsy +fervour of manner and tone which was quite peculiar to her. "Don't +begin speaking to me as you did, Damon; you will drive me to say words +I would not wish to say to you. I had given you up, and resolved not +to think of you any more; and then I heard the news, and I came out +and got the fire ready because I thought that you had been faithful to +me." + +"What have you heard to make you think that?" said Wildeve, +astonished. + +"That you did not marry her!" she murmured exultingly. "And I knew it +was because you loved me best, and couldn't do it... Damon, you have +been cruel to me to go away, and I have said I would never forgive +you. I do not think I can forgive you entirely, even now--it is too +much for a woman of any spirit to quite overlook." + +"If I had known you wished to call me up here only to reproach me, I +wouldn't have come." + +"But I don't mind it, and I do forgive you now that you have not +married her, and have come back to me!" + +"Who told you that I had not married her?" + +"My grandfather. He took a long walk today, and as he was coming home +he overtook some person who told him of a broken-off wedding: he +thought it might be yours, and I knew it was." + +"Does anybody else know?" + +"I suppose not. Now Damon, do you see why I lit my signal fire? You +did not think I would have lit it if I had imagined you to have become +the husband of this woman. It is insulting my pride to suppose that." + +Wildeve was silent; it was evident that he had supposed as much. + +"Did you indeed think I believed you were married?" she again demanded +earnestly. "Then you wronged me; and upon my life and heart I can +hardly bear to recognize that you have such ill thoughts of me! Damon, +you are not worthy of me: I see it, and yet I love you. Never mind, +let it go--I must bear your mean opinion as best I may... It is true, +is it not," she added with ill-concealed anxiety, on his making no +demonstration, "that you could not bring yourself to give me up, and +are still going to love me best of all?" + +"Yes; or why should I have come?" he said touchily. "Not that +fidelity will be any great merit in me after your kind speech +about my unworthiness, which should have been said by myself if by +anybody, and comes with an ill grace from you. However, the curse +of inflammability is upon me, and I must live under it, and take +any snub from a woman. It has brought me down from engineering to +innkeeping: what lower stage it has in store for me I have yet to +learn." He continued to look upon her gloomily. + +She seized the moment, and throwing back the shawl so that the +firelight shone full upon her face and throat, said with a smile, +"Have you seen anything better than that in your travels?" + +Eustacia was not one to commit herself to such a position without good +ground. He said quietly, "No." + +"Not even on the shoulders of Thomasin?" + +"Thomasin is a pleasing and innocent woman." + +"That's nothing to do with it," she cried with quick passionateness. +"We will leave her out; there are only you and me now to think of." +After a long look at him she resumed with the old quiescent warmth: +"Must I go on weakly confessing to you things a woman ought to +conceal; and own that no words can express how gloomy I have been +because of that dreadful belief I held till two hours ago--that you +had quite deserted me?" + +"I am sorry I caused you that pain." + +"But perhaps it is not wholly because of you that I get gloomy," she +archly added. "It is in my nature to feel like that. It was born in +my blood, I suppose." + +"Hypochondriasis." + +"Or else it was coming into this wild heath. I was happy enough at +Budmouth. O the times, O the days at Budmouth! But Egdon will be +brighter again now." + +"I hope it will," said Wildeve moodily. "Do you know the consequence +of this recall to me, my old darling? I shall come to see you again +as before, at Rainbarrow." + +"Of course you will." + +"And yet I declare that until I got here tonight I intended, after +this one good-bye, never to meet you again." + +"I don't thank you for that," she said, turning away, while +indignation spread through her like subterranean heat. "You may come +again to Rainbarrow if you like, but you won't see me; and you may +call, but I shall not listen; and you may tempt me, but I won't give +myself to you any more." + +"You have said as much before, sweet; but such natures as yours don't +so easily adhere to their words. Neither, for the matter of that, do +such natures as mine." + +"This is the pleasure I have won by my trouble," she whispered +bitterly. "Why did I try to recall you? Damon, a strange warring +takes place in my mind occasionally. I think when I become calm after +your woundings, 'Do I embrace a cloud of common fog after all?' You +are a chameleon, and now you are at your worst colour. Go home, or I +shall hate you!" + +He looked absently towards Rainbarrow while one might have counted +twenty, and said, as if he did not much mind all this, "Yes, I will go +home. Do you mean to see me again?" + +"If you own to me that the wedding is broken off because you love me +best." + +"I don't think it would be good policy," said Wildeve, smiling. "You +would get to know the extent of your power too clearly." + +"But tell me!" + +"You know." + +"Where is she now?" + +"I don't know. I prefer not to speak of her to you. I have not yet +married her; I have come in obedience to your call. That is enough." + +"I merely lit that fire because I was dull, and thought I would get +a little excitement by calling you up and triumphing over you as the +Witch of Endor called up Samuel. I determined you should come; and you +have come! I have shown my power. A mile and half hither, and a mile +and half back again to your home--three miles in the dark for me. +Have I not shown my power?" + +He shook his head at her. "I know you too well, my Eustacia; I know +you too well. There isn't a note in you which I don't know; and that +hot little bosom couldn't play such a coldblooded trick to save its +life. I saw a woman on Rainbarrow at dusk looking down towards my +house. I think I drew out you before you drew out me." + +The revived embers of an old passion glowed clearly in Wildeve now; +and he leant forward as if about to put his face towards her cheek. + +"O no," she said, intractably moving to the other side of the decayed +fire. "What did you mean by that?" + +"Perhaps I may kiss your hand?" + +"No, you may not." + +"Then I may shake your hand?" + +"No." + +"Then I wish you good night without caring for either. Good-bye, +good-bye." + +She returned no answer, and with the bow of a dancing-master he +vanished on the other side of the pool as he had come. + +Eustacia sighed: it was no fragile maiden sigh, but a sigh which +shook her like a shiver. Whenever a flash of reason darted like an +electric light upon her lover--as it sometimes would--and showed his +imperfections, she shivered thus. But it was over in a second, and +she loved on. She knew that he trifled with her; but she loved on. +She scattered the half-burnt brands, went indoors immediately, and up +to her bedroom without a light. Amid the rustles which denoted her to +be undressing in the darkness other heavy breaths frequently came; and +the same kind of shudder occasionally moved through her when, ten +minutes later, she lay on her bed asleep. + + + + +VII + +Queen of Night + + +Eustacia Vye was the raw material of a divinity. On Olympus she would +have done well with a little preparation. She had the passions and +instincts which make a model goddess, that is, those which make not +quite a model woman. Had it been possible for the earth and mankind +to be entirely in her grasp for a while, had she handled the distaff, +the spindle, and the shears at her own free will, few in the world +would have noticed the change of government. There would have been +the same inequality of lot, the same heaping up of favours here, +of contumely there, the same generosity before justice, the same +perpetual dilemmas, the same captious alteration of caresses and blows +that we endure now. + +She was in person full-limbed and somewhat heavy; without ruddiness, +as without pallor; and soft to the touch as a cloud. To see her hair +was to fancy that a whole winter did not contain darkness enough +to form its shadow: it closed over her forehead like nightfall +extinguishing the western glow. + +Her nerves extended into those tresses, and her temper could always +be softened by stroking them down. When her hair was brushed she +would instantly sink into stillness and look like the Sphinx. If, in +passing under one of the Egdon banks, any of its thick skeins were +caught, as they sometimes were, by a prickly tuft of the large _Ulex +Europaeus_--which will act as a sort of hairbrush--she would go back +a few steps, and pass against it a second time. + +She had pagan eyes, full of nocturnal mysteries, and their light, as +it came and went, and came again, was partially hampered by their +oppressive lids and lashes; and of these the under lid was much fuller +than it usually is with English women. This enabled her to indulge in +reverie without seeming to do so: she might have been believed capable +of sleeping without closing them up. Assuming that the souls of +men and women were visible essences, you could fancy the colour of +Eustacia's soul to be flame-like. The sparks from it that rose into +her dark pupils gave the same impression. + +The mouth seemed formed less to speak than to quiver, less to quiver +than to kiss. Some might have added, less to kiss than to curl. +Viewed sideways, the closing-line of her lips formed, with almost +geometric precision, the curve so well known in the arts of design as +the cima-recta, or ogee. The sight of such a flexible bend as that +on grim Egdon was quite an apparition. It was felt at once that the +mouth did not come over from Sleswig with a band of Saxon pirates +whose lips met like the two halves of a muffin. One had fancied that +such lip-curves were mostly lurking underground in the South as +fragments of forgotten marbles. So fine were the lines of her lips +that, though full, each corner of her mouth was as clearly cut as the +point of a spear. This keenness of corner was only blunted when she +was given over to sudden fits of gloom, one of the phases of the +night-side of sentiment which she knew too well for her years. + +Her presence brought memories of such things as Bourbon roses, rubies, +and tropical midnights; her moods recalled lotus-eaters and the march +in "Athalie"; her motions, the ebb and flow of the sea; her voice, the +viola. In a dim light, and with a slight rearrangement of her hair, +her general figure might have stood for that of either of the higher +female deities. The new moon behind her head, an old helmet upon +it, a diadem of accidental dewdrops round her brow, would have been +adjuncts sufficient to strike the note of Artemis, Athena, or Hera +respectively, with as close an approximation to the antique as that +which passes muster on many respected canvases. + +But celestial imperiousness, love, wrath, and fervour had proved to be +somewhat thrown away on netherward Egdon. Her power was limited, and +the consciousness of this limitation had biassed her development. +Egdon was her Hades, and since coming there she had imbibed much of +what was dark in its tone, though inwardly and eternally unreconciled +thereto. Her appearance accorded well with this smouldering +rebelliousness, and the shady splendour of her beauty was the real +surface of the sad and stifled warmth within her. A true Tartarean +dignity sat upon her brow, and not factitiously or with marks of +constraint, for it had grown in her with years. + +Across the upper part of her head she wore a thin fillet of black +velvet, restraining the luxuriance of her shady hair, in a way which +added much to this class of majesty by irregularly clouding her +forehead. "Nothing can embellish a beautiful face more than a narrow +band drawn over the brow," says Richter. Some of the neighbouring +girls wore coloured ribbon for the same purpose, and sported metallic +ornaments elsewhere; but if anyone suggested coloured ribbon and +metallic ornaments to Eustacia Vye she laughed and went on. + +Why did a woman of this sort live on Egdon Heath? Budmouth was her +native place, a fashionable seaside resort at that date. She was the +daughter of the bandmaster of a regiment which had been quartered +there--a Corfiote by birth, and a fine musician--who met his future +wife during her trip thither with her father the captain, a man of +good family. The marriage was scarcely in accord with the old man's +wishes, for the bandmaster's pockets were as light as his occupation. +But the musician did his best; adopted his wife's name, made England +permanently his home, took great trouble with his child's education, +the expenses of which were defrayed by the grandfather, and throve as +the chief local musician till her mother's death, when he left off +thriving, drank, and died also. The girl was left to the care of +her grandfather, who, since three of his ribs became broken in a +shipwreck, had lived in this airy perch on Egdon, a spot which had +taken his fancy because the house was to be had for next to nothing, +and because a remote blue tinge on the horizon between the hills, +visible from the cottage door, was traditionally believed to be the +English Channel. She hated the change; she felt like one banished; +but here she was forced to abide. + +Thus it happened that in Eustacia's brain were juxtaposed the +strangest assortment of ideas, from old time and from new. There was +no middle distance in her perspective: romantic recollections of +sunny afternoons on an esplanade, with military bands, officers, and +gallants around, stood like gilded letters upon the dark tablet of +surrounding Egdon. Every bizarre effect that could result from the +random intertwining of watering-place glitter with the grand solemnity +of a heath, was to be found in her. Seeing nothing of human life now, +she imagined all the more of what she had seen. + +Where did her dignity come from? By a latent vein from Alcinous' +line, her father hailing from Phaeacia's isle?--or from Fitzalan and +De Vere, her maternal grandfather having had a cousin in the peerage? +Perhaps it was the gift of Heaven--a happy convergence of natural +laws. Among other things opportunity had of late years been denied +her of learning to be undignified, for she lived lonely. Isolation on +a heath renders vulgarity well-nigh impossible. It would have been as +easy for the heath-ponies, bats, and snakes to be vulgar as for her. +A narrow life in Budmouth might have completely demeaned her. + +The only way to look queenly without realms or hearts to queen it +over is to look as if you had lost them; and Eustacia did that to a +triumph. In the captain's cottage she could suggest mansions she had +never seen. Perhaps that was because she frequented a vaster mansion +than any of them, the open hills. Like the summer condition of the +place around her, she was an embodiment of the phrase "a populous +solitude"--apparently so listless, void, and quiet, she was really +busy and full. + +To be loved to madness--such was her great desire. Love was to her the +one cordial which could drive away the eating loneliness of her days. +And she seemed to long for the abstraction called passionate love more +than for any particular lover. + +She could show a most reproachful look at times, but it was directed +less against human beings than against certain creatures of her mind, +the chief of these being Destiny, through whose interference she +dimly fancied it arose that love alighted only on gliding youth--that +any love she might win would sink simultaneously with the sand in +the glass. She thought of it with an ever-growing consciousness of +cruelty, which tended to breed actions of reckless unconventionality, +framed to snatch a year's, a week's, even an hour's passion from +anywhere while it could be won. Through want of it she had sung +without being merry, possessed without enjoying, outshone without +triumphing. Her loneliness deepened her desire. On Egdon, coldest +and meanest kisses were at famine prices; and where was a mouth +matching hers to be found? + +Fidelity in love for fidelity's sake had less attraction for her than +for most women: fidelity because of love's grip had much. A blaze of +love, and extinction, was better than a lantern glimmer of the same +which should last long years. On this head she knew by prevision what +most women learn only by experience: she had mentally walked round +love, told the towers thereof, considered its palaces, and concluded +that love was but a doleful joy. Yet she desired it, as one in a +desert would be thankful for brackish water. + +She often repeated her prayers; not at particular times, but, like the +unaffectedly devout, when she desired to pray. Her prayer was always +spontaneous, and often ran thus, "O deliver my heart from this fearful +gloom and loneliness; send me great love from somewhere, else I shall +die." + +Her high gods were William the Conqueror, Strafford, and Napoleon +Buonaparte, as they had appeared in the Lady's History used at the +establishment in which she was educated. Had she been a mother she +would have christened her boys such names as Saul or Sisera in +preference to Jacob or David, neither of whom she admired. At school +she had used to side with the Philistines in several battles, and had +wondered if Pontius Pilate were as handsome as he was frank and fair. + +Thus she was a girl of some forwardness of mind, indeed, weighed in +relation to her situation among the very rearward of thinkers, very +original. Her instincts towards social non-comformity were at the +root of this. In the matter of holidays, her mood was that of horses +who, when turned out to grass, enjoy looking upon their kind at work +on the highway. She only valued rest to herself when it came in the +midst of other people's labour. Hence she hated Sundays when all was +at rest, and often said they would be the death of her. To see the +heathmen in their Sunday condition, that is, with their hands in their +pockets, their boots newly oiled, and not laced up (a particularly +Sunday sign), walking leisurely among the turves and furze-faggots +they had cut during the week, and kicking them critically as if +their use were unknown, was a fearful heaviness to her. To relieve +the tedium of this untimely day she would overhaul the cupboards +containing her grandfather's old charts and other rubbish, humming +Saturday-night ballads of the country people the while. But on +Saturday nights she would frequently sing a psalm, and it was always +on a week-day that she read the Bible, that she might be unoppressed +with a sense of doing her duty. + +Such views of life were to some extent the natural begettings of her +situation upon her nature. To dwell on a heath without studying its +meanings was like wedding a foreigner without learning his tongue. +The subtle beauties of the heath were lost to Eustacia; she only +caught its vapours. An environment which would have made a contented +woman a poet, a suffering woman a devotee, a pious woman a psalmist, +even a giddy woman thoughtful, made a rebellious woman saturnine. + +Eustacia had got beyond the vision of some marriage of inexpressible +glory; yet, though her emotions were in full vigour, she cared for +no meaner union. Thus we see her in a strange state of isolation. To +have lost the godlike conceit that we may do what we will, and not to +have acquired a homely zest for doing what we can, shows a grandeur +of temper which cannot be objected to in the abstract, for it +denotes a mind that, though disappointed, forswears compromise. +But, if congenial to philosophy, it is apt to be dangerous to +the commonwealth. In a world where doing means marrying, and the +commonwealth is one of hearts and hands, the same peril attends the +condition. + +And so we see our Eustacia--for at times she was not altogether +unlovable--arriving at that stage of enlightenment which feels +that nothing is worth while, and filling up the spare hours of her +existence by idealizing Wildeve for want of a better object. This was +the sole reason of his ascendency: she knew it herself. At moments +her pride rebelled against her passion for him, and she even had +longed to be free. But there was only one circumstance which could +dislodge him, and that was the advent of a greater man. + +For the rest, she suffered much from depression of spirits, and took +slow walks to recover them, in which she carried her grandfather's +telescope and her grandmother's hourglass--the latter because of a +peculiar pleasure she derived from watching a material representation +of time's gradual glide away. She seldom schemed, but when she did +scheme, her plans showed rather the comprehensive strategy of a +general than the small arts called womanish, though she could utter +oracles of Delphian ambiguity when she did not choose to be direct. +In heaven she will probably sit between the Héloïses and the +Cleopatras. + + + + +VIII + +Those Who Are Found Where There Is Said to Be Nobody + + +As soon as the sad little boy had withdrawn from the fire he clasped +the money tight in the palm of his hand, as if thereby to fortify his +courage, and began to run. There was really little danger in allowing +a child to go home alone on this part of Egdon Heath. The distance +to the boy's house was not more than three-eighths of a mile, his +father's cottage, and one other a few yards further on, forming part +of the small hamlet of Mistover Knap: the third and only remaining +house was that of Captain Vye and Eustacia, which stood quite away +from the small cottages, and was the loneliest of lonely houses on +these thinly populated slopes. + +He ran until he was out of breath, and then, becoming more courageous, +walked leisurely along, singing in an old voice a little song about a +sailor-boy and a fair one, and bright gold in store. In the middle of +this the child stopped: from a pit under the hill ahead of him shone a +light, whence proceeded a cloud of floating dust and a smacking noise. + +Only unusual sights and sounds frightened the boy. The shrivelled +voice of the heath did not alarm him, for that was familiar. The +thorn-bushes which arose in his path from time to time were less +satisfactory, for they whistled gloomily, and had a ghastly habit +after dark of putting on the shapes of jumping madmen, sprawling +giants, and hideous cripples. Lights were not uncommon this evening, +but the nature of all of them was different from this. Discretion +rather than terror prompted the boy to turn back instead of passing +the light, with a view of asking Miss Eustacia Vye to let her servant +accompany him home. + +When the boy had reascended to the top of the valley he found the fire +to be still burning on the bank, though lower than before. Beside it, +instead of Eustacia's solitary form, he saw two persons, the second +being a man. The boy crept along under the bank to ascertain from +the nature of the proceedings if it would be prudent to interrupt so +splendid a creature as Miss Eustacia on his poor trivial account. + +After listening under the bank for some minutes to the talk he turned +in a perplexed and doubting manner and began to withdraw as silently +as he had come. That he did not, upon the whole, think it advisable +to interrupt her conversation with Wildeve, without being prepared to +bear the whole weight of her displeasure, was obvious. + +Here was a Scyllaeo-Charybdean position for a poor boy. Pausing +when again safe from discovery, he finally decided to face the pit +phenomenon as the lesser evil. With a heavy sigh he retraced the +slope, and followed the path he had followed before. + +The light had gone, the rising dust had disappeared--he hoped for +ever. He marched resolutely along, and found nothing to alarm him +till, coming within a few yards of the sandpit, he heard a slight +noise in front, which led him to halt. The halt was but momentary, +for the noise resolved itself into the steady bites of two animals +grazing. + +"Two he'th-croppers down here," he said aloud. "I have never known +'em come down so far afore." + +The animals were in the direct line of his path, but that the child +thought little of; he had played round the fetlocks of horses from his +infancy. On coming nearer, however, the boy was somewhat surprised to +find that the little creatures did not run off, and that each wore a +clog, to prevent his going astray; this signified that they had been +broken in. He could now see the interior of the pit, which, being in +the side of the hill, had a level entrance. In the innermost corner +the square outline of a van appeared, with its back towards him. A +light came from the interior, and threw a moving shadow upon the +vertical face of gravel at the further side of the pit into which the +vehicle faced. + +The child assumed that this was the cart of a gipsy, and his dread +of those wanderers reached but to that mild pitch which titillates +rather than pains. Only a few inches of mud wall kept him and his +family from being gipsies themselves. He skirted the gravel-pit at +a respectful distance, ascended the slope, and came forward upon +the brow, in order to look into the open door of the van and see the +original of the shadow. + +The picture alarmed the boy. By a little stove inside the van sat +a figure red from head to heels--the man who had been Thomasin's +friend. He was darning a stocking, which was red like the rest of him. +Moreover, as he darned he smoked a pipe, the stem and bowl of which +were red also. + +At this moment one of the heath-croppers feeding in the outer shadows +was audibly shaking off the clog attached to its foot. Aroused by the +sound the reddleman laid down his stocking, lit a lantern which hung +beside him, and came out from the van. In sticking up the candle he +lifted the lantern to his face, and the light shone into the whites +of his eyes and upon his ivory teeth, which, in contrast with the +red surrounding, lent him a startling aspect enough to the gaze of a +juvenile. The boy knew too well for his peace of mind upon whose lair +he had lighted. Uglier persons than gipsies were known to cross Egdon +at times, and a reddleman was one of them. + +"How I wish 'twas only a gipsy!" he murmured. + +The man was by this time coming back from the horses. In his fear of +being seen the boy rendered detection certain by nervous motion. The +heather and peat stratum overhung the brow of the pit in mats, hiding +the actual verge. The boy had stepped beyond the solid ground; the +heather now gave way, and down he rolled over the scarp of grey sand +to the very foot of the man. + +The red man opened the lantern and turned it upon the figure of the +prostrate boy. + +"Who be ye?" he said. + +"Johnny Nunsuch, master!" + +"What were you doing up there?" + +"I don't know." + +"Watching me, I suppose?" + +"Yes, master." + +"What did you watch me for?" + +"Because I was coming home from Miss Vye's bonfire." + +"Beest hurt?" + +"No." + +"Why, yes, you be: your hand is bleeding. Come under my tilt and let +me tie it up." + +"Please let me look for my sixpence." + +"How did you come by that?" + +"Miss Vye gied it to me for keeping up her bonfire." + +The sixpence was found, and the man went to the van, the boy behind, +almost holding his breath. + +The man took a piece of rag from a satchel containing sewing +materials, tore off a strip, which, like everything else, was tinged +red, and proceeded to bind up the wound. + +"My eyes have got foggy-like--please may I sit down, master?" said the +boy. + +"To be sure, poor chap. 'Tis enough to make you feel fainty. Sit on +that bundle." + +The man finished tying up the gash, and the boy said, "I think I'll go +home now, master." + +"You are rather afraid of me. Do you know what I be?" + +The child surveyed his vermilion figure up and down with much +misgiving and finally said, "Yes." + +"Well, what?" + +"The reddleman!" he faltered. + +"Yes, that's what I be. Though there's more than one. You little +children think there's only one cuckoo, one fox, one giant, one devil, +and one reddleman, when there's lots of us all." + +"Is there? You won't carry me off in your bags, will ye, master? +'Tis said that the reddleman will sometimes." + +"Nonsense. All that reddlemen do is sell reddle. You see all these +bags at the back of my cart? They are not full of little boys--only +full of red stuff." + +"Was you born a reddleman?" + +"No, I took to it. I should be as white as you if I were to give up +the trade--that is, I should be white in time--perhaps six months: not +at first, because 'tis grow'd into my skin and won't wash out. Now, +you'll never be afraid of a reddleman again, will ye?" + +"No, never. Willy Orchard said he seed a red ghost here t'other +day--perhaps that was you?" + +"I was here t'other day." + +"Were you making that dusty light I saw by now?" + +"Oh yes: I was beating out some bags. And have you had a good bonfire +up there? I saw the light. Why did Miss Vye want a bonfire so bad +that she should give you sixpence to keep it up?" + +"I don't know. I was tired, but she made me bide and keep up the fire +just the same, while she kept going up across Rainbarrow way." + +"And how long did that last?" + +"Until a hopfrog jumped into the pond." + +The reddleman suddenly ceased to talk idly. "A hopfrog?" he inquired. +"Hopfrogs don't jump into ponds this time of year." + +"They do, for I heard one." + +"Certain-sure?" + +"Yes. She told me afore that I should hear'n; and so I did. They say +she's clever and deep, and perhaps she charmed 'en to come." + +"And what then?" + +"Then I came down here, and I was afeard, and I went back; but I +didn't like to speak to her, because of the gentleman, and I came on +here again." + +"A gentleman--ah! What did she say to him, my man?" + +"Told him she supposed he had not married the other woman because he +liked his old sweetheart best; and things like that." + +"What did the gentleman say to her, my sonny?" + +"He only said he did like her best, and how he was coming to see her +again under Rainbarrow o' nights." + +"Ha!" cried the reddleman, slapping his hand against the side of his +van so that the whole fabric shook under the blow. "That's the secret +o't!" + +The little boy jumped clean from the stool. + +"My man, don't you be afraid," said the dealer in red, suddenly +becoming gentle. "I forgot you were here. That's only a curious way +reddlemen have of going mad for a moment; but they don't hurt anybody. +And what did the lady say then?" + +"I can't mind. Please, Master Reddleman, may I go home-along now?" + +"Ay, to be sure you may. I'll go a bit of ways with you." + +He conducted the boy out of the gravel-pit and into the path leading +to his mother's cottage. When the little figure had vanished in the +darkness the reddleman returned, resumed his seat by the fire, and +proceeded to darn again. + + + + +IX + +Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy + + +Reddlemen of the old school are now but seldom seen. Since the +introduction of railways Wessex farmers have managed to do without +these Mephistophelian visitants, and the bright pigment so largely +used by shepherds in preparing sheep for the fair is obtained by other +routes. Even those who yet survive are losing the poetry of existence +which characterized them when the pursuit of the trade meant +periodical journeys to the pit whence the material was dug, a regular +camping out from month to month, except in the depth of winter, a +peregrination among farms which could be counted by the hundred, +and in spite of this Arab existence the preservation of that +respectability which is insured by the never-failing production of a +well-lined purse. + +Reddle spreads its lively hues over everything it lights on, and +stamps unmistakably, as with the mark of Cain, any person who has +handled it half an hour. + +A child's first sight of a reddleman was an epoch in his life. That +blood-coloured figure was a sublimation of all the horrid dreams +which had afflicted the juvenile spirit since imagination began. "The +reddleman is coming for you!" had been the formulated threat of Wessex +mothers for many generations. He was successfully supplanted for a +while, at the beginning of the present century, by Buonaparte; but as +process of time rendered the latter personage stale and ineffective +the older phrase resumed its early prominence. And now the reddleman +has in his turn followed Buonaparte to the land of worn-out bogeys, +and his place is filled by modern inventions. + +The reddleman lived like a gipsy; but gipsies he scorned. He was +about as thriving as travelling basket and mat makers; but he had +nothing to do with them. He was more decently born and brought up +than the cattle-drovers who passed and repassed him in his wanderings; +but they merely nodded to him. His stock was more valuable than that +of pedlars; but they did not think so, and passed his cart with eyes +straight ahead. He was such an unnatural colour to look at that the +men of round-abouts and wax-work shows seemed gentlemen beside him; +but he considered them low company, and remained aloof. Among all +these squatters and folks of the road the reddleman continually found +himself; yet he was not of them. His occupation tended to isolate +him, and isolated he was mostly seen to be. + +It was sometimes suggested that reddlemen were criminals for whose +misdeeds other men had wrongfully suffered: that in escaping the law +they had not escaped their own consciences, and had taken to the trade +as a lifelong penance. Else why should they have chosen it? In the +present case such a question would have been particularly apposite. +The reddleman who had entered Egdon that afternoon was an instance of +the pleasing being wasted to form the ground-work of the singular, +when an ugly foundation would have done just as well for that purpose. +The one point that was forbidding about this reddleman was his colour. +Freed from that he would have been as agreeable a specimen of rustic +manhood as one would often see. A keen observer might have been +inclined to think--which was, indeed, partly the truth--that he had +relinquished his proper station in life for want of interest in it. +Moreover, after looking at him one would have hazarded the guess +that good-nature, and an acuteness as extreme as it could be without +verging on craft, formed the frame-work of his character. + +While he darned the stocking his face became rigid with thought. +Softer expressions followed this, and then again recurred the tender +sadness which had sat upon him during his drive along the highway that +afternoon. Presently his needle stopped. He laid down the stocking, +arose from his seat, and took a leather pouch from a hook in the +corner of the van. This contained among other articles a brown-paper +packet, which, to judge from the hinge-like character of its worn +folds, seemed to have been carefully opened and closed a good many +times. He sat down on a three-legged milking stool that formed the +only seat in the van, and, examining his packet by the light of a +candle, took thence an old letter and spread it open. The writing had +originally been traced on white paper, but the letter had now assumed +a pale red tinge from the accident of its situation; and the black +strokes of writing thereon looked like the twigs of a winter hedge +against a vermilion sunset. The letter bore a date some two years +previous to that time, and was signed "Thomasin Yeobright." It ran as +follows:-- + + + DEAR DIGGORY VENN,--The question you put when you overtook + me coming home from Pond-close gave me such a surprise that + I am afraid I did not make you exactly understand what I + meant. Of course, if my aunt had not met me I could have + explained all then at once, but as it was there was no + chance. I have been quite uneasy since, as you know I do + not wish to pain you, yet I fear I shall be doing so now in + contradicting what I seemed to say then. I cannot, Diggory, + marry you, or think of letting you call me your sweetheart. + I could not, indeed, Diggory. I hope you will not much mind + my saying this, and feel in a great pain. It makes me very + sad when I think it may, for I like you very much, and I + always put you next to my cousin Clym in my mind. There are + so many reasons why we cannot be married that I can hardly + name them all in a letter. I did not in the least expect + that you were going to speak on such a thing when you + followed me, because I had never thought of you in the + sense of a lover at all. You must not becall me for laughing + when you spoke; you mistook when you thought I laughed at + you as a foolish man. I laughed because the idea was so odd, + and not at you at all. The great reason with my own personal + self for not letting you court me is, that I do not feel the + things a woman ought to feel who consents to walk with you + with the meaning of being your wife. It is not as you think, + that I have another in my mind, for I do not encourage + anybody, and never have in my life. Another reason is my + aunt. She would not, I know, agree to it, even if I wished + to have you. She likes you very well, but she will want me + to look a little higher than a small dairy-farmer, and marry + a professional man. I hope you will not set your heart + against me for writing plainly, but I felt you might try to + see me again, and it is better that we should not meet. I + shall always think of you as a good man, and be anxious for + your well-doing. I send this by Jane Orchard's little maid, + --And remain Diggory, your faithful friend, + + THOMASIN YEOBRIGHT + + To MR. VENN, Dairy-farmer + + +Since the arrival of that letter, on a certain autumn morning long +ago, the reddleman and Thomasin had not met till today. During the +interval he had shifted his position even further from hers than it +had originally been, by adopting the reddle trade; though he was +really in very good circumstances still. Indeed, seeing that his +expenditure was only one-fourth of his income, he might have been +called a prosperous man. + +Rejected suitors take to roaming as naturally as unhived bees; and +the business to which he had cynically devoted himself was in many +ways congenial to Venn. But his wanderings, by mere stress of old +emotions, had frequently taken an Egdon direction, though he never +intruded upon her who attracted him thither. To be in Thomasin's +heath, and near her, yet unseen, was the one ewe-lamb of pleasure +left to him. + +Then came the incident of that day, and the reddleman, still loving +her well, was excited by this accidental service to her at a critical +juncture to vow an active devotion to her cause, instead of, as +hitherto, sighing and holding aloof. After what had happened, it +was impossible that he should not doubt the honesty of Wildeve's +intentions. But her hope was apparently centred upon him; and +dismissing his regrets Venn determined to aid her to be happy in +her own chosen way. That this way was, of all others, the most +distressing to himself, was awkward enough; but the reddleman's love +was generous. + +His first active step in watching over Thomasin's interests was taken +about seven o'clock the next evening, and was dictated by the news +which he had learnt from the sad boy. That Eustacia was somehow the +cause of Wildeve's carelessness in relation to the marriage had at +once been Venn's conclusion on hearing of the secret meeting between +them. It did not occur to his mind that Eustacia's love-signal +to Wildeve was the tender effect upon the deserted beauty of the +intelligence which her grandfather had brought home. His instinct was +to regard her as a conspirator against rather than as an antecedent +obstacle to Thomasin's happiness. + +During the day he had been exceedingly anxious to learn the condition +of Thomasin; but he did not venture to intrude upon a threshold to +which he was a stranger, particularly at such an unpleasant moment as +this. He had occupied his time in moving with his ponies and load to +a new point in the heath, eastward to his previous station; and here +he selected a nook with a careful eye to shelter from wind and rain, +which seemed to mean that his stay there was to be a comparatively +extended one. After this he returned on foot some part of the way +that he had come; and, it being now dark, he diverged to the left till +he stood behind a holly-bush on the edge of a pit not twenty yards +from Rainbarrow. + +He watched for a meeting there, but he watched in vain. Nobody except +himself came near the spot that night. + +But the loss of his labour produced little effect upon the reddleman. +He had stood in the shoes of Tantalus, and seemed to look upon +a certain mass of disappointment as the natural preface to all +realizations, without which preface they would give cause for alarm. + +The same hour the next evening found him again at the same place; but +Eustacia and Wildeve, the expected trysters, did not appear. + +He pursued precisely the same course yet four nights longer, and +without success. But on the next, being the day-week of their +previous meeting, he saw a female shape floating along the ridge and +the outline of a young man ascending from the valley. They met in the +little ditch encircling the tumulus--the original excavation from +which it had been thrown up by the ancient British people. + +The reddleman, stung with suspicion of wrong to Thomasin, was aroused +to strategy in a moment. He instantly left the bush and crept forward +on his hands and knees. When he had got as close as he might safely +venture without discovery he found that, owing to a cross-wind, the +conversation of the trysting pair could not be overheard. + +Near him, as in divers places about the heath, were areas strewn with +large turves, which lay edgeways and upside down awaiting removal by +Timothy Fairway, previous to the winter weather. He took two of these +as he lay, and dragged them over him till one covered his head and +shoulders, the other his back and legs. The reddleman would now have +been quite invisible, even by daylight; the turves, standing upon him +with the heather upwards, looked precisely as if they were growing. +He crept along again, and the turves upon his back crept with him. +Had he approached without any covering the chances are that he would +not have been perceived in the dusk; approaching thus, it was as +though he burrowed underground. In this manner he came quite close to +where the two were standing. + +"Wish to consult me on the matter?" reached his ears in the rich, +impetuous accents of Eustacia Vye. "Consult me? It is an indignity +to me to talk so: I won't bear it any longer!" She began weeping. +"I have loved you, and have shown you that I loved you, much to my +regret; and yet you can come and say in that frigid way that you wish +to consult with me whether it would not be better to marry Thomasin. +Better--of course it would be. Marry her: she is nearer to your own +position in life than I am!" + +"Yes, yes; that's very well," said Wildeve peremptorily. "But we +must look at things as they are. Whatever blame may attach to me for +having brought it about, Thomasin's position is at present much worse +than yours. I simply tell you that I am in a strait." + +"But you shall not tell me! You must see that it is only harassing me. +Damon, you have not acted well; you have sunk in my opinion. You have +not valued my courtesy--the courtesy of a lady in loving you--who used +to think of far more ambitious things. But it was Thomasin's fault. +She won you away from me, and she deserves to suffer for it. Where +is she staying now? Not that I care, nor where I am myself. Ah, if I +were dead and gone how glad she would be! Where is she, I ask?" + +"Thomasin is now staying at her aunt's shut up in a bedroom, and +keeping out of everybody's sight," he said indifferently. + +"I don't think you care much about her even now," said Eustacia with +sudden joyousness: "for if you did you wouldn't talk so coolly about +her. Do you talk so coolly to her about me? Ah, I expect you do! Why +did you originally go away from me? I don't think I can ever forgive +you, except on one condition, that whenever you desert me, you come +back again, sorry that you served me so." + +"I never wish to desert you." + +"I do not thank you for that. I should hate it to be all smooth. +Indeed, I think I like you to desert me a little once now and then. +Love is the dismallest thing where the lover is quite honest. O, it +is a shame to say so; but it is true!" She indulged in a little laugh. +"My low spirits begin at the very idea. Don't you offer me tame love, +or away you go!" + +"I wish Tamsie were not such a confoundedly good little woman," said +Wildeve, "so that I could be faithful to you without injuring a worthy +person. It is I who am the sinner after all; I am not worth the +little finger of either of you." + +"But you must not sacrifice yourself to her from any sense of +justice," replied Eustacia quickly. "If you do not love her it is the +most merciful thing in the long run to leave her as she is. That's +always the best way. There, now I have been unwomanly, I suppose. +When you have left me I am always angry with myself for things that I +have said to you." + +Wildeve walked a pace or two among the heather without replying. The +pause was filled up by the intonation of a pollard thorn a little way +to windward, the breezes filtering through its unyielding twigs as +through a strainer. It was as if the night sang dirges with clenched +teeth. + +She continued, half sorrowfully, "Since meeting you last, it has +occurred to me once or twice that perhaps it was not for love of me +you did not marry her. Tell me, Damon: I'll try to bear it. Had I +nothing whatever to do with the matter?" + +"Do you press me to tell?" + +"Yes, I must know. I see I have been too ready to believe in my own +power." + +"Well, the immediate reason was that the license would not do for the +place, and before I could get another she ran away. Up to that point +you had nothing to do with it. Since then her aunt has spoken to me +in a tone which I don't at all like." + +"Yes, yes! I am nothing in it--I am nothing in it. You only trifle +with me. Heaven, what can I, Eustacia Vye, be made of to think so +much of you!" + +"Nonsense; do not be so passionate... Eustacia, how we roved among +these bushes last year, when the hot days had got cool, and the shades +of the hills kept us almost invisible in the hollows!" + +She remained in moody silence till she said, "Yes; and how I used to +laugh at you for daring to look up to me! But you have well made me +suffer for that since." + +"Yes, you served me cruelly enough until I thought I had found some +one fairer than you. A blessed find for me, Eustacia." + +"Do you still think you found somebody fairer?" + +"Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. The scales are balanced so nicely +that a feather would turn them." + +"But don't you really care whether I meet you or whether I don't?" she +said slowly. + +"I care a little, but not enough to break my rest," replied the young +man languidly. "No, all that's past. I find there are two flowers +where I thought there was only one. Perhaps there are three, or four, +or any number as good as the first... Mine is a curious fate. Who +would have thought that all this could happen to me?" + +She interrupted with a suppressed fire of which either love or anger +seemed an equally possible issue, "Do you love me now?" + +"Who can say?" + +"Tell me; I will know it!" + +"I do, and I do not," said he mischievously. "That is, I have my +times and my seasons. One moment you are too tall, another moment you +are too do-nothing, another too melancholy, another too dark, another +I don't know what, except--that you are not the whole world to me that +you used to be, my dear. But you are a pleasant lady to know, and nice +to meet, and I dare say as sweet as ever--almost." + +Eustacia was silent, and she turned from him, till she said, in a +voice of suspended mightiness, "I am for a walk, and this is my way." + +"Well, I can do worse than follow you." + +"You know you can't do otherwise, for all your moods and changes!" +she answered defiantly. "Say what you will; try as you may; keep away +from me all that you can--you will never forget me. You will love me +all your life long. You would jump to marry me!" + +"So I would!" said Wildeve. "Such strange thoughts as I've had from +time to time, Eustacia; and they come to me this moment. You hate the +heath as much as ever; that I know." + +"I do," she murmured deeply. "'Tis my cross, my shame, and will be my +death!" + +"I abhor it too," said he. "How mournfully the wind blows round us +now!" + +She did not answer. Its tone was indeed solemn and pervasive. +Compound utterances addressed themselves to their senses, and it was +possible to view by ear the features of the neighbourhood. Acoustic +pictures were returned from the darkened scenery; they could hear +where the tracts of heather began and ended; where the furze was +growing stalky and tall; where it had been recently cut; in what +direction the fir-clump lay, and how near was the pit in which the +hollies grew; for these differing features had their voices no less +than their shapes and colours. + +"God, how lonely it is!" resumed Wildeve. "What are picturesque +ravines and mists to us who see nothing else? Why should we stay +here? Will you go with me to America? I have kindred in Wisconsin." + +"That wants consideration." + +"It seems impossible to do well here, unless one were a wild bird or a +landscape-painter. Well?" + +"Give me time," she softly said, taking his hand. "America is so far +away. Are you going to walk with me a little way?" + +As Eustacia uttered the latter words she retired from the base of the +barrow, and Wildeve followed her, so that the reddleman could hear no +more. + +He lifted the turves and arose. Their black figures sank and +disappeared from against the sky. They were as two horns which the +sluggish heath had put forth from its crown, like a mollusc, and had +now again drawn in. + +The reddleman's walk across the vale, and over into the next where his +cart lay, was not sprightly for a slim young fellow of twenty-four. +His spirit was perturbed to aching. The breezes that blew around his +mouth in that walk carried off upon them the accents of a commination. + +He entered the van, where there was a fire in a stove. Without +lighting his candle he sat down at once on the three-legged stool, and +pondered on what he had seen and heard touching that still loved-one +of his. He uttered a sound which was neither sigh nor sob, but was +even more indicative than either of a troubled mind. + +"My Tamsie," he whispered heavily. "What can be done? Yes, I will see +that Eustacia Vye." + + + + +X + +A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion + + +The next morning, at the time when the height of the sun appeared very +insignificant from any part of the heath as compared with the altitude +of Rainbarrow, and when all the little hills in the lower levels were +like an archipelago in a fog-formed Aegean, the reddleman came from +the brambled nook which he had adopted as his quarters and ascended +the slopes of Mistover Knap. + +Though these shaggy hills were apparently so solitary, several keen +round eyes were always ready on such a wintry morning as this to +converge upon a passer-by. Feathered species sojourned here in hiding +which would have created wonder if found elsewhere. A bustard haunted +the spot, and not many years before this five and twenty might have +been seen in Egdon at one time. Marsh-harriers looked up from the +valley by Wildeve's. A cream-coloured courser had used to visit this +hill, a bird so rare that not more than a dozen have ever been seen +in England; but a barbarian rested neither night nor day till he had +shot the African truant, and after that event cream-coloured coursers +thought fit to enter Egdon no more. + +A traveller who should walk and observe any of these visitants as Venn +observed them now could feel himself to be in direct communication +with regions unknown to man. Here in front of him was a wild +mallard--just arrived from the home of the north wind. The creature +brought within him an amplitude of Northern knowledge. Glacial +catastrophes, snowstorm episodes, glittering auroral effects, Polaris +in the zenith, Franklin underfoot,--the category of his commonplaces +was wonderful. But the bird, like many other philosophers, seemed +as he looked at the reddleman to think that a present moment of +comfortable reality was worth a decade of memories. + +Venn passed on through these towards the house of the isolated beauty +who lived up among them and despised them. The day was Sunday; but +as going to church, except to be married or buried, was exceptional +at Egdon, this made little difference. He had determined upon the +bold stroke of asking for an interview with Miss Vye--to attack +her position as Thomasin's rival either by art or by storm, +showing therein, somewhat too conspicuously, the want of gallantry +characteristic of a certain astute sort of men, from clowns to kings. +The great Frederick making war on the beautiful Archduchess, Napoleon +refusing terms to the beautiful Queen of Prussia, were not more dead +to difference of sex than the reddleman was, in his peculiar way, in +planning the displacement of Eustacia. + +To call at the captain's cottage was always more or less an +undertaking for the inferior inhabitants. Though occasionally chatty, +his moods were erratic, and nobody could be certain how he would +behave at any particular moment. Eustacia was reserved, and lived +very much to herself. Except the daughter of one of the cotters, who +was their servant, and a lad who worked in the garden and stable, +scarcely anyone but themselves ever entered the house. They were the +only genteel people of the district except the Yeobrights, and though +far from rich, they did not feel that necessity for preserving a +friendly face towards every man, bird, and beast which influenced +their poorer neighbours. + +When the reddleman entered the garden the old man was looking through +his glass at the stain of blue sea in the distant landscape, the +little anchors on his buttons twinkling in the sun. He recognized +Venn as his companion on the highway, but made no remark on that +circumstance, merely saying, "Ah, reddleman--you here? Have a glass +of grog?" + +Venn declined, on the plea of it being too early, and stated that +his business was with Miss Vye. The captain surveyed him from cap +to waistcoat and from waistcoat to leggings for a few moments, and +finally asked him to go indoors. + +Miss Vye was not to be seen by anybody just then; and the reddleman +waited in the window-bench of the kitchen, his hands hanging across +his divergent knees, and his cap hanging from his hands. + +"I suppose the young lady is not up yet?" he presently said to the +servant. + +"Not quite yet. Folks never call upon ladies at this time of day." + +"Then I'll step outside," said Venn. "If she is willing to see me, +will she please send out word, and I'll come in." + +The reddleman left the house and loitered on the hill adjoining. +A considerable time elapsed, and no request for his presence was +brought. He was beginning to think that his scheme had failed, when +he beheld the form of Eustacia herself coming leisurely towards him. +A sense of novelty in giving audience to that singular figure had been +sufficient to draw her forth. + +She seemed to feel, after a bare look at Diggory Venn, that the man +had come on a strange errand, and that he was not so mean as she +had thought him; for her close approach did not cause him to writhe +uneasily, or shift his feet, or show any of those little signs which +escape an ingenuous rustic at the advent of the uncommon in womankind. +On his inquiring if he might have a conversation with her she replied, +"Yes, walk beside me," and continued to move on. + +Before they had gone far it occurred to the perspicacious +reddleman that he would have acted more wisely by appearing less +unimpressionable, and he resolved to correct the error as soon as he +could find opportunity. + +"I have made so bold, miss, as to step across and tell you some +strange news which has come to my ears about that man." + +"Ah! what man?" + +He jerked his elbow to the south-east--the direction of the Quiet +Woman. + +Eustacia turned quickly to him. "Do you mean Mr. Wildeve?" + +"Yes, there is trouble in a household on account of him, and I have +come to let you know of it, because I believe you might have power to +drive it away." + +"I? What is the trouble?" + +"It is quite a secret. It is that he may refuse to marry Thomasin +Yeobright after all." + +Eustacia, though set inwardly pulsing by his words, was equal to her +part in such a drama as this. She replied coldly, "I do not wish to +listen to this, and you must not expect me to interfere." + +"But, miss, you will hear one word?" + +"I cannot. I am not interested in the marriage, and even if I were I +could not compel Mr. Wildeve to do my bidding." + +"As the only lady on the heath I think you might," said Venn with +subtle indirectness. "This is how the case stands. Mr. Wildeve would +marry Thomasin at once, and make all matters smooth, if so be there +were not another woman in the case. This other woman is some person +he has picked up with, and meets on the heath occasionally, I believe. +He will never marry her, and yet through her he may never marry the +woman who loves him dearly. Now, if you, miss, who have so much sway +over us men-folk, were to insist that he should treat your young +neighbour Tamsin with honourable kindness and give up the other woman, +he would perhaps do it, and save her a good deal of misery." + +"Ah, my life!" said Eustacia, with a laugh which unclosed her lips +so that the sun shone into her mouth as into a tulip, and lent it +a similar scarlet fire. "You think too much of my influence over +men-folk indeed, reddleman. If I had such a power as you imagine I +would go straight and use it for the good of anybody who has been +kind to me--which Thomasin Yeobright has not particularly, to my +knowledge." + +"Can it be that you really don't know of it--how much she had always +thought of you?" + +"I have never heard a word of it. Although we live only two miles +apart I have never been inside her aunt's house in my life." + +The superciliousness that lurked in her manner told Venn that thus far +he had utterly failed. He inwardly sighed and felt it necessary to +unmask his second argument. + +"Well, leaving that out of the question, 'tis in your power, I assure +you, Miss Vye, to do a great deal of good to another woman." + +She shook her head. + +"Your comeliness is law with Mr. Wildeve. It is law with all men who +see 'ee. They say, 'This well-favoured lady coming--what's her name? +How handsome!' Handsomer than Thomasin Yeobright," the reddleman +persisted, saying to himself, "God forgive a rascal for lying!" And +she was handsomer, but the reddleman was far from thinking so. There +was a certain obscurity in Eustacia's beauty, and Venn's eye was not +trained. In her winter dress, as now, she was like the tiger-beetle, +which, when observed in dull situations, seems to be of the quietest +neutral colour, but under a full illumination blazes with dazzling +splendour. + +Eustacia could not help replying, though conscious that she endangered +her dignity thereby. "Many women are lovelier than Thomasin," she +said, "so not much attaches to that." + +The reddleman suffered the wound and went on: "He is a man who +notices the looks of women, and you could twist him to your will like +withywind, if you only had the mind." + +"Surely what she cannot do who has been so much with him I cannot do +living up here away from him." + +The reddleman wheeled and looked her in the face. "Miss Vye!" he +said. + +"Why do you say that--as if you doubted me?" She spoke faintly, and +her breathing was quick. "The idea of your speaking in that tone to +me!" she added, with a forced smile of hauteur. "What could have been +in your mind to lead you to speak like that?" + +"Miss Vye, why should you make believe that you don't know this +man?--I know why, certainly. He is beneath you, and you are ashamed." + +"You are mistaken. What do you mean?" + +The reddleman had decided to play the card of truth. "I was at the +meeting by Rainbarrow last night and heard every word," he said. "The +woman that stands between Wildeve and Thomasin is yourself." + +It was a disconcerting lift of the curtain, and the mortification of +Candaules' wife glowed in her. The moment had arrived when her lip +would tremble in spite of herself, and when the gasp could no longer +be kept down. + +"I am unwell," she said hurriedly. "No--it is not that--I am not in a +humour to hear you further. Leave me, please." + +"I must speak, Miss Vye, in spite of paining you. What I would put +before you is this. However it may come about--whether she is to +blame, or you--her case is without doubt worse than yours. Your +giving up Mr. Wildeve will be a real advantage to you, for how could +you marry him? Now she cannot get off so easily--everybody will blame +her if she loses him. Then I ask you--not because her right is best, +but because her situation is worst--to give him up to her." + +"No--I won't, I won't!" she said impetuously, quite forgetful of her +previous manner towards the reddleman as an underling. "Nobody has +ever been served so! It was going on well--I will not be beaten +down--by an inferior woman like her. It is very well for you to come +and plead for her, but is she not herself the cause of all her own +trouble? Am I not to show favour to any person I may choose without +asking permission of a parcel of cottagers? She has come between me +and my inclination, and now that she finds herself rightly punished +she gets you to plead for her!" + +"Indeed," said Venn earnestly, "she knows nothing whatever about it. +It is only I who ask you to give him up. It will be better for her +and you both. People will say bad things if they find out that a lady +secretly meets a man who has ill-used another woman." + +"I have NOT injured her--he was mine before he was hers! He came +back--because--because he liked me best!" she said wildly. "But I +lose all self-respect in talking to you. What am I giving way to!" + +"I can keep secrets," said Venn gently. "You need not fear. I am the +only man who knows of your meetings with him. There is but one thing +more to speak of, and then I will be gone. I heard you say to him +that you hated living here--that Egdon Heath was a jail to you." + +"I did say so. There is a sort of beauty in the scenery, I know; but +it is a jail to me. The man you mention does not save me from that +feeling, though he lives here. I should have cared nothing for him +had there been a better person near." + +The reddleman looked hopeful; after these words from her his third +attempt seemed promising. "As we have now opened our minds a bit, +miss," he said, "I'll tell you what I have got to propose. Since I +have taken to the reddle trade I travel a good deal, as you know." + +She inclined her head, and swept round so that her eyes rested in the +misty vale beneath them. + +"And in my travels I go near Budmouth. Now Budmouth is a wonderful +place--wonderful--a great salt sheening sea bending into the land +like a bow--thousands of gentlepeople walking up and down--bands of +music playing--officers by sea and officers by land walking among the +rest--out of every ten folks you meet nine of 'em in love." + +"I know it," she said disdainfully. "I know Budmouth better than you. +I was born there. My father came to be a military musician there from +abroad. Ah, my soul, Budmouth! I wish I was there now." + +The reddleman was surprised to see how a slow fire could blaze on +occasion. "If you were, miss," he replied, "in a week's time you +would think no more of Wildeve than of one of those he'th-croppers +that we see yond. Now, I could get you there." + +"How?" said Eustacia, with intense curiosity in her heavy eyes. + +"My uncle has been for five and twenty years the trusty man of a rich +widow-lady who has a beautiful house facing the sea. This lady has +become old and lame, and she wants a young company-keeper to read and +sing to her, but can't get one to her mind to save her life, though +she've advertised in the papers, and tried half a dozen. She would +jump to get you, and uncle would make it all easy." + +"I should have to work, perhaps?" + +"No, not real work: you'd have a little to do, such as reading and +that. You would not be wanted till New Year's Day." + +"I knew it meant work," she said, drooping to languor again. + +"I confess there would be a trifle to do in the way of amusing her; +but though idle people might call it work, working people would call +it play. Think of the company and the life you'd lead, miss; the +gaiety you'd see, and the gentleman you'd marry. My uncle is to +inquire for a trustworthy young lady from the country, as she don't +like town girls." + +"It is to wear myself out to please her! and I won't go. O, if I +could live in a gay town as a lady should, and go my own ways, and do +my own doings, I'd give the wrinkled half of my life! Yes, reddleman, +that would I." + +"Help me to get Thomasin happy, miss, and the chance shall be yours," +urged her companion. + +"Chance--'tis no chance," she said proudly. "What can a poor man like +you offer me, indeed?--I am going indoors. I have nothing more to +say. Don't your horses want feeding, or your reddlebags want mending, +or don't you want to find buyers for your goods, that you stay idling +here like this?" + +Venn spoke not another word. With his hands behind him he turned +away, that she might not see the hopeless disappointment in his face. +The mental clearness and power he had found in this lonely girl had +indeed filled his manner with misgiving even from the first few +minutes of close quarters with her. Her youth and situation had led +him to expect a simplicity quite at the beck of his method. But a +system of inducement which might have carried weaker country lasses +along with it had merely repelled Eustacia. As a rule, the word +Budmouth meant fascination on Egdon. That Royal port and watering +place, if truly mirrored in the minds of the heath-folk, must have +combined, in a charming and indescribable manner, a Carthaginian +bustle of building with Tarentine luxuriousness and Baian health and +beauty. Eustacia felt little less extravagantly about the place; but +she would not sink her independence to get there. + +When Diggory Venn had gone quite away, Eustacia walked to the bank and +looked down the wild and picturesque vale towards the sun, which was +also in the direction of Wildeve's. The mist had now so far collapsed +that the tips of the trees and bushes around his house could just be +discerned, as if boring upwards through a vast white cobweb which +cloaked them from the day. There was no doubt that her mind was +inclined thitherward; indefinitely, fancifully--twining and untwining +about him as the single object within her horizon on which dreams +might crystallize. The man who had begun by being merely her +amusement, and would never have been more than her hobby but for his +skill in deserting her at the right moments, was now again her desire. +Cessation in his love-making had revivified her love. Such feeling +as Eustacia had idly given to Wildeve was dammed into a flood by +Thomasin. She had used to tease Wildeve, but that was before another +had favoured him. Often a drop of irony into an indifferent situation +renders the whole piquant. + +"I will never give him up--never!" she said impetuously. + +The reddleman's hint that rumour might show her to disadvantage had +no permanent terror for Eustacia. She was as unconcerned at that +contingency as a goddess at a lack of linen. This did not originate +in inherent shamelessness, but in her living too far from the world to +feel the impact of public opinion. Zenobia in the desert could hardly +have cared what was said about her at Rome. As far as social ethics +were concerned Eustacia approached the savage state, though in emotion +she was all the while an epicure. She had advanced to the secret +recesses of sensuousness, yet had hardly crossed the threshold of +conventionality. + + + + +XI + +The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman + + +The reddleman had left Eustacia's presence with desponding views on +Thomasin's future happiness; but he was awakened to the fact that one +other channel remained untried by seeing, as he followed the way to +his van, the form of Mrs. Yeobright slowly walking towards the Quiet +Woman. He went across to her; and could almost perceive in her anxious +face that this journey of hers to Wildeve was undertaken with the same +object as his own to Eustacia. + +She did not conceal the fact. "Then," said the reddleman, "you may as +well leave it alone, Mrs. Yeobright." + +"I half think so myself," she said. "But nothing else remains to be +done besides pressing the question upon him." + +"I should like to say a word first," said Venn firmly. "Mr. Wildeve +is not the only man who has asked Thomasin to marry him; and why +should not another have a chance? Mrs. Yeobright, I should be glad +to marry your niece, and would have done it any time these last two +years. There, now it is out, and I have never told anybody before but +herself." + +Mrs. Yeobright was not demonstrative, but her eyes involuntarily +glanced towards his singular though shapely figure. + +"Looks are not everything," said the reddleman, noticing the glance. +"There's many a calling that don't bring in so much as mine, if it +comes to money; and perhaps I am not so much worse off than Wildeve. +There is nobody so poor as these professional fellows who have failed; +and if you shouldn't like my redness--well, I am not red by birth, you +know; I only took to this business for a freak; and I might turn my +hand to something else in good time." + +"I am much obliged to you for your interest in my niece; but I fear +there would be objections. More than that, she is devoted to this +man." + +"True; or I shouldn't have done what I have this morning." + +"Otherwise there would be no pain in the case, and you would not see +me going to his house now. What was Thomasin's answer when you told +her of your feelings?" + +"She wrote that you would object to me; and other things." + +"She was in a measure right. You must not take this unkindly: I +merely state it as a truth. You have been good to her, and we do not +forget it. But as she was unwilling on her own account to be your +wife, that settles the point without my wishes being concerned." + +"Yes. But there is a difference between then and now, ma'am. She is +distressed now, and I have thought that if you were to talk to her +about me, and think favourably of me yourself, there might be a chance +of winning her round, and getting her quite independent of this +Wildeve's backward and forward play, and his not knowing whether he'll +have her or no." + +Mrs. Yeobright shook her head. "Thomasin thinks, and I think with +her, that she ought to be Wildeve's wife, if she means to appear +before the world without a slur upon her name. If they marry soon, +everybody will believe that an accident did really prevent the +wedding. If not, it may cast a shade upon her character--at any rate +make her ridiculous. In short, if it is anyhow possible they must +marry now." + +"I thought that till half an hour ago. But, after all, why should +her going off with him to Anglebury for a few hours do her any harm? +Anybody who knows how pure she is will feel any such thought to +be quite unjust. I have been trying this morning to help on this +marriage with Wildeve--yes, I, ma'am--in the belief that I ought to +do it, because she was so wrapped up in him. But I much question if +I was right, after all. However, nothing came of it. And now I offer +myself." + +Mrs. Yeobright appeared disinclined to enter further into the +question. "I fear I must go on," she said. "I do not see that +anything else can be done." + +And she went on. But though this conversation did not divert +Thomasin's aunt from her purposed interview with Wildeve, it made a +considerable difference in her mode of conducting that interview. She +thanked God for the weapon which the reddleman had put into her hands. + +Wildeve was at home when she reached the inn. He showed her silently +into the parlour, and closed the door. Mrs. Yeobright began-- + +"I have thought it my duty to call today. A new proposal has been +made to me, which has rather astonished me. It will affect Thomasin +greatly; and I have decided that it should at least be mentioned to +you." + +"Yes? What is it?" he said civilly. + +"It is, of course, in reference to her future. You may not be aware +that another man has shown himself anxious to marry Thomasin. Now, +though I have not encouraged him yet, I cannot conscientiously refuse +him a chance any longer. I don't wish to be short with you; but I +must be fair to him and to her." + +"Who is the man?" said Wildeve with surprise. + +"One who has been in love with her longer than she has with you. He +proposed to her two years ago. At that time she refused him." + +"Well?" + +"He has seen her lately, and has asked me for permission to pay his +addresses to her. She may not refuse him twice." + +"What is his name?" + +Mrs. Yeobright declined to say. "He is a man Thomasin likes," she +added, "and one whose constancy she respects at least. It seems to me +that what she refused then she would be glad to get now. She is much +annoyed at her awkward position." + +"She never once told me of this old lover." + +"The gentlest women are not such fools as to show EVERY card." + +"Well, if she wants him I suppose she must have him." + +"It is easy enough to say that; but you don't see the difficulty. He +wants her much more than she wants him; and before I can encourage +anything of the sort I must have a clear understanding from you that +you will not interfere to injure an arrangement which I promote in the +belief that it is for the best. Suppose, when they are engaged, and +everything is smoothly arranged for their marriage, that you should +step between them and renew your suit? You might not win her back, +but you might cause much unhappiness." + +"Of course I should do no such thing," said Wildeve "But they are not +engaged yet. How do you know that Thomasin would accept him?" + +"That's a question I have carefully put to myself; and upon the whole +the probabilities are in favour of her accepting him in time. I +flatter myself that I have some influence over her. She is pliable, +and I can be strong in my recommendations of him." + +"And in your disparagement of me at the same time." + +"Well, you may depend upon my not praising you," she said drily. "And +if this seems like manoeuvring, you must remember that her position is +peculiar, and that she has been hardly used. I shall also be helped +in making the match by her own desire to escape from the humiliation +of her present state; and a woman's pride in these cases will lead +her a very great way. A little managing may be required to bring her +round; but I am equal to that, provided that you agree to the one +thing indispensable; that is, to make a distinct declaration that she +is to think no more of you as a possible husband. That will pique her +into accepting him." + +"I can hardly say that just now, Mrs. Yeobright. It is so sudden." + +"And so my whole plan is interfered with! It is very inconvenient +that you refuse to help my family even to the small extent of saying +distinctly you will have nothing to do with us." + +Wildeve reflected uncomfortably. "I confess I was not prepared for +this," he said. "Of course I'll give her up if you wish, if it is +necessary. But I thought I might be her husband." + +"We have heard that before." + +"Now, Mrs. Yeobright, don't let us disagree. Give me a fair time. I +don't want to stand in the way of any better chance she may have; only +I wish you had let me know earlier. I will write to you or call in a +day or two. Will that suffice?" + +"Yes," she replied, "provided you promise not to communicate with +Thomasin without my knowledge." + +"I promise that," he said. And the interview then terminated, Mrs. +Yeobright returning homeward as she had come. + +By far the greatest effect of her simple strategy on that day was, as +often happens, in a quarter quite outside her view when arranging it. +In the first place, her visit sent Wildeve the same evening after dark +to Eustacia's house at Mistover. + +At this hour the lonely dwelling was closely blinded and shuttered +from the chill and darkness without. Wildeve's clandestine plan with +her was to take a little gravel in his hand and hold it to the crevice +at the top of the window shutter, which was on the outside, so that it +should fall with a gentle rustle, resembling that of a mouse, between +shutter and glass. This precaution in attracting her attention was to +avoid arousing the suspicions of her grandfather. + +The soft words, "I hear; wait for me," in Eustacia's voice from within +told him that she was alone. + +He waited in his customary manner by walking round the enclosure and +idling by the pool, for Wildeve was never asked into the house by his +proud though condescending mistress. She showed no sign of coming +out in a hurry. The time wore on, and he began to grow impatient. In +the course of twenty minutes she appeared from round the corner, and +advanced as if merely taking an airing. + +"You would not have kept me so long had you known what I come about," +he said with bitterness. "Still, you are worth waiting for." + +"What has happened?" said Eustacia. "I did not know you were in +trouble. I too am gloomy enough." + +"I am not in trouble," said he. "It is merely that affairs have come +to a head, and I must take a clear course." + +"What course is that?" she asked with attentive interest. + +"And can you forget so soon what I proposed to you the other night? +Why, take you from this place, and carry you away with me abroad." + +"I have not forgotten. But why have you come so unexpectedly to +repeat the question, when you only promised to come next Saturday? I +thought I was to have plenty of time to consider." + +"Yes, but the situation is different now." + +"Explain to me." + +"I don't want to explain, for I may pain you." + +"But I must know the reason of this hurry." + +"It is simply my ardour, dear Eustacia. Everything is smooth now." + +"Then why are you so ruffled?" + +"I am not aware of it. All is as it should be. Mrs. Yeobright--but +she is nothing to us." + +"Ah, I knew she had something to do with it! Come, I don't like +reserve." + +"No--she has nothing. She only says she wishes me to give up Thomasin +because another man is anxious to marry her. The woman, now she no +longer needs me, actually shows off!" Wildeve's vexation had escaped +him in spite of himself. + +Eustacia was silent a long while. "You are in the awkward position of +an official who is no longer wanted," she said in a changed tone. + +"It seems so. But I have not yet seen Thomasin." + +"And that irritates you. Don't deny it, Damon. You are actually +nettled by this slight from an unexpected quarter." + +"Well?" + +"And you come to get me because you cannot get her. This is certainly +a new position altogether. I am to be a stop-gap." + +"Please remember that I proposed the same thing the other day." + +Eustacia again remained in a sort of stupefied silence. What curious +feeling was this coming over her? Was it really possible that her +interest in Wildeve had been so entirely the result of antagonism that +the glory and the dream departed from the man with the first sound +that he was no longer coveted by her rival? She was, then, secure +of him at last. Thomasin no longer required him. What a humiliating +victory! He loved her best, she thought; and yet--dared she to murmur +such treacherous criticism ever so softly?--what was the man worth +whom a woman inferior to herself did not value? The sentiment which +lurks more or less in all animate nature--that of not desiring the +undesired of others--was lively as a passion in the super-subtle, +epicurean heart of Eustacia. Her social superiority over him, which +hitherto had scarcely ever impressed her, became unpleasantly +insistent, and for the first time she felt that she had stooped in +loving him. + +"Well, darling, you agree?" said Wildeve. + +"If it could be London, or even Budmouth, instead of America," she +murmured languidly. "Well, I will think. It is too great a thing for +me to decide offhand. I wish I hated the heath less--or loved you +more." + +"You can be painfully frank. You loved me a month ago warmly enough +to go anywhere with me." + +"And you loved Thomasin." + +"Yes, perhaps that was where the reason lay," he returned, with almost +a sneer. "I don't hate her now." + +"Exactly. The only thing is that you can no longer get her." + +"Come--no taunts, Eustacia, or we shall quarrel. If you don't agree +to go with me, and agree shortly, I shall go by myself." + +"Or try Thomasin again. Damon, how strange it seems that you could +have married her or me indifferently, and only have come to me because +I am--cheapest! Yes, yes--it is true. There was a time when I should +have exclaimed against a man of that sort, and been quite wild; but it +is all past now." + +"Will you go, dearest? Come secretly with me to Bristol, marry me, +and turn our backs upon this dog-hole of England for ever? Say Yes." + +"I want to get away from here at almost any cost," she said with +weariness, "but I don't like to go with you. Give me more time to +decide." + +"I have already," said Wildeve. "Well, I give you one more week." + +"A little longer, so that I may tell you decisively. I have to +consider so many things. Fancy Thomasin being anxious to get rid of +you! I cannot forget it." + +"Never mind that. Say Monday week. I will be here precisely at this +time." + +"Let it be at Rainbarrow," said she. "This is too near home; my +grandfather may be walking out." + +"Thank you, dear. On Monday week at this time I will be at the +Barrow. Till then good-bye." + +"Good-bye. No, no, you must not touch me now. Shaking hands is enough +till I have made up my mind." + +Eustacia watched his shadowy form till it had disappeared. She placed +her hand to her forehead and breathed heavily; and then her rich, +romantic lips parted under that homely impulse--a yawn. She was +immediately angry at having betrayed even to herself the possible +evanescence of her passion for him. She could not admit at once that +she might have overestimated Wildeve, for to perceive his mediocrity +now was to admit her own great folly heretofore. And the discovery +that she was the owner of a disposition so purely that of the dog in +the manger had something in it which at first made her ashamed. + +The fruit of Mrs. Yeobright's diplomacy was indeed remarkable, though +not as yet of the kind she had anticipated. It had appreciably +influenced Wildeve, but it was influencing Eustacia far more. Her +lover was no longer to her an exciting man whom many women strove +for, and herself could only retain by striving with them. He was a +superfluity. + +She went indoors in that peculiar state of misery which is not exactly +grief, and which especially attends the dawnings of reason in the +latter days of an ill-judged, transient love. To be conscious that +the end of the dream is approaching, and yet has not absolutely come, +is one of the most wearisome as well as the most curious stages along +the course between the beginning of a passion and its end. + +Her grandfather had returned, and was busily engaged in pouring some +gallons of newly arrived rum into the square bottles of his square +cellaret. Whenever these home supplies were exhausted he would go to +the Quiet Woman, and, standing with his back to the fire, grog in +hand, tell remarkable stories of how he had lived seven years under +the water-line of his ship, and other naval wonders, to the natives, +who hoped too earnestly for a treat of ale from the teller to exhibit +any doubts of his truth. + +He had been there this evening. "I suppose you have heard the Egdon +news, Eustacia?" he said, without looking up from the bottles. "The +men have been talking about it at the Woman as if it were of national +importance." + +"I have heard none," she said. + +"Young Clym Yeobright, as they call him, is coming home next week to +spend Christmas with his mother. He is a fine fellow by this time, it +seems. I suppose you remember him?" + +"I never saw him in my life." + +"Ah, true; he left before you came here. I well remember him as a +promising boy." + +"Where has he been living all these years?" + +"In that rookery of pomp and vanity, Paris, I believe." + + + + +BOOK SECOND +THE ARRIVAL + + +I + +Tidings of the Comer + + +On fine days at this time of the year, and earlier, certain ephemeral +operations were apt to disturb, in their trifling way, the majestic +calm of Egdon Heath. They were activities which, beside those of a +town, a village, or even a farm, would have appeared as the ferment of +stagnation merely, a creeping of the flesh of somnolence. But here, +away from comparisons, shut in by the stable hills, among which mere +walking had the novelty of pageantry, and where any man could imagine +himself to be Adam without the least difficulty, they attracted the +attention of every bird within eyeshot, every reptile not yet asleep, +and set the surrounding rabbits curiously watching from hillocks at a +safe distance. + +The performance was that of bringing together and building into a +stack the furze-faggots which Humphrey had been cutting for the +captain's use during the foregoing fine days. The stack was at the +end of the dwelling, and the men engaged in building it were Humphrey +and Sam, the old man looking on. + +It was a fine and quiet afternoon, about three o'clock; but the winter +solstice having stealthily come on, the lowness of the sun caused +the hour to seem later than it actually was, there being little here +to remind an inhabitant that he must unlearn his summer experience +of the sky as a dial. In the course of many days and weeks sunrise +had advanced its quarters from north-east to south-east, sunset had +receded from north-west to south-west; but Egdon had hardly heeded the +change. + +Eustacia was indoors in the dining-room, which was really more like a +kitchen, having a stone floor and a gaping chimney-corner. The air was +still, and while she lingered a moment here alone sounds of voices in +conversation came to her ears directly down the chimney. She entered +the recess, and, listening, looked up the old irregular shaft, with +its cavernous hollows, where the smoke blundered about on its way +to the square bit of sky at the top, from which the daylight struck +down with a pallid glare upon the tatters of soot draping the flue as +seaweed drapes a rocky fissure. + +She remembered: the furze-stack was not far from the chimney, and the +voices were those of the workers. + +Her grandfather joined in the conversation. "That lad ought never to +have left home. His father's occupation would have suited him best, +and the boy should have followed on. I don't believe in these new +moves in families. My father was a sailor, so was I, and so should my +son have been if I had had one." + +"The place he's been living at is Paris," said Humphrey, "and they +tell me 'tis where the king's head was cut off years ago. My poor +mother used to tell me about that business. 'Hummy,' she used to say, +'I was a young maid then, and as I was at home ironing mother's caps +one afternoon the parson came in and said, "They've cut the king's +head off, Jane; and what 'twill be next God knows."'" + +"A good many of us knew as well as He before long," said the captain, +chuckling. "I lived seven years under water on account of it in my +boyhood--in that damned surgery of the _Triumph_, seeing men brought +down to the cockpit with their legs and arms blown to Jericho... And +so the young man has settled in Paris. Manager to a diamond merchant, +or some such thing, is he not?" + +"Yes, sir, that's it. 'Tis a blazing great business that he belongs +to, so I've heard his mother say--like a king's palace, as far as +diments go." + +"I can well mind when he left home," said Sam. + +"'Tis a good thing for the feller," said Humphrey. "A sight of times +better to be selling diments than nobbling about here." + +"It must cost a good few shillings to deal at such a place." + +"A good few indeed, my man," replied the captain. "Yes, you may make +away with a deal of money and be neither drunkard nor glutton." + +"They say, too, that Clym Yeobright is become a real perusing man, +with the strangest notions about things. There, that's because he +went to school early, such as the school was." + +"Strange notions, has he?" said the old man. "Ah, there's too much +of that sending to school in these days! It only does harm. Every +gatepost and barn's door you come to is sure to have some bad word or +other chalked upon it by the young rascals: a woman can hardly pass +for shame some times. If they'd never been taught how to write they +wouldn't have been able to scribble such villainy. Their fathers +couldn't do it, and the country was all the better for it." + +"Now, I should think, cap'n, that Miss Eustacia had about as much in +her head that comes from books as anybody about here?" + +"Perhaps if Miss Eustacia, too, had less romantic nonsense in her head +it would be better for her," said the captain shortly; after which he +walked away. + +"I say, Sam," observed Humphrey when the old man was gone, "she and +Clym Yeobright would make a very pretty pigeon-pair--hey? If they +wouldn't I'll be dazed! Both of one mind about niceties for certain, +and learned in print, and always thinking about high doctrine--there +couldn't be a better couple if they were made o' purpose. Clym's +family is as good as hers. His father was a farmer, that's true; but +his mother was a sort of lady, as we know. Nothing would please me +better than to see them two man and wife." + +"They'd look very natty, arm-in-crook together, and their best clothes +on, whether or no, if he's at all the well-favoured fellow he used to +be." + +"They would, Humphrey. Well, I should like to see the chap terrible +much after so many years. If I knew for certain when he was coming +I'd stroll out three or four miles to meet him and help carry anything +for'n; though I suppose he's altered from the boy he was. They say he +can talk French as fast as a maid can eat blackberries; and if so, +depend upon it we who have stayed at home shall seem no more than +scroff in his eyes." + +"Coming across the water to Budmouth by steamer, isn't he?" + +"Yes; but how he's coming from Budmouth I don't know." + +"That's a bad trouble about his cousin Thomasin. I wonder such a +nice-notioned fellow as Clym likes to come home into it. What a +nunnywatch we were in, to be sure, when we heard they weren't married +at all, after singing to 'em as man and wife that night! Be dazed if I +should like a relation of mine to have been made such a fool of by a +man. It makes the family look small." + +"Yes. Poor maid, her heart has ached enough about it. Her health is +suffering from it, I hear, for she will bide entirely indoors. We +never see her out now, scampering over the furze with a face as red +as a rose, as she used to do." + +"I've heard she wouldn't have Wildeve now if he asked her." + +"You have? 'Tis news to me." + +While the furze-gatherers had desultorily conversed thus Eustacia's +face gradually bent to the hearth in a profound reverie, her toe +unconsciously tapping the dry turf which lay burning at her feet. + +The subject of their discourse had been keenly interesting to her. A +young and clever man was coming into that lonely heath from, of all +contrasting places in the world, Paris. It was like a man coming from +heaven. More singular still, the heathmen had instinctively coupled +her and this man together in their minds as a pair born for each +other. + +That five minutes of overhearing furnished Eustacia with visions +enough to fill the whole blank afternoon. Such sudden alternations +from mental vacuity do sometimes occur thus quietly. She could never +have believed in the morning that her colourless inner world would +before night become as animated as water under a microscope, and +that without the arrival of a single visitor. The words of Sam and +Humphrey on the harmony between the unknown and herself had on her +mind the effect of the invading Bard's prelude in the "Castle of +Indolence," at which myriads of imprisoned shapes arose where had +previously appeared the stillness of a void. + +Involved in these imaginings she knew nothing of time. When she became +conscious of externals it was dusk. The furze-rick was finished; the +men had gone home. Eustacia went upstairs, thinking that she would +take a walk at this her usual time; and she determined that her walk +should be in the direction of Blooms-End, the birthplace of young +Yeobright and the present home of his mother. She had no reason for +walking elsewhere, and why should she not go that way? The scene of a +day-dream is sufficient for a pilgrimage at nineteen. To look at the +palings before the Yeobrights' house had the dignity of a necessary +performance. Strange that such a piece of idling should have seemed +an important errand. + +She put on her bonnet, and, leaving the house, descended the hill on +the side towards Blooms-End, where she walked slowly along the valley +for a distance of a mile and a half. This brought her to a spot in +which the green bottom of the dale began to widen, the furze bushes +to recede yet further from the path on each side, till they were +diminished to an isolated one here and there by the increasing +fertility of the soil. Beyond the irregular carpet of grass was a +row of white palings, which marked the verge of the heath in this +latitude. They showed upon the dusky scene that they bordered as +distinctly as white lace on velvet. Behind the white palings was a +little garden; behind the garden an old, irregular, thatched house, +facing the heath, and commanding a full view of the valley. This was +the obscure, removed spot to which was about to return a man whose +latter life had been passed in the French capital--the centre and +vortex of the fashionable world. + + + + +II + +The People at Blooms-End Make Ready + + +All that afternoon the expected arrival of the subject of Eustacia's +ruminations created a bustle of preparation at Blooms-End. Thomasin +had been persuaded by her aunt, and by an instinctive impulse of +loyalty towards her cousin Clym, to bestir herself on his account +with an alacrity unusual in her during these most sorrowful days of +her life. At the time that Eustacia was listening to the rickmakers' +conversation on Clym's return, Thomasin was climbing into a loft over +her aunt's fuel-house, where the store-apples were kept, to search out +the best and largest of them for the coming holiday-time. + +The loft was lighted by a semicircular hole, through which the pigeons +crept to their lodgings in the same high quarters of the premises; and +from this hole the sun shone in a bright yellow patch upon the figure +of the maiden as she knelt and plunged her naked arms into the soft +brown fern, which, from its abundance, was used on Egdon in packing +away stores of all kinds. The pigeons were flying about her head with +the greatest unconcern, and the face of her aunt was just visible +above the floor of the loft, lit by a few stray motes of light, as she +stood half-way up the ladder, looking at a spot into which she was not +climber enough to venture. + +"Now a few russets, Tamsin. He used to like them almost as well as +ribstones." + +Thomasin turned and rolled aside the fern from another nook, where +more mellow fruit greeted her with its ripe smell. Before picking +them out she stopped a moment. + +"Dear Clym, I wonder how your face looks now?" she said, gazing +abstractedly at the pigeon-hole, which admitted the sunlight so +directly upon her brown hair and transparent tissues that it almost +seemed to shine through her. + +"If he could have been dear to you in another way," said Mrs. +Yeobright from the ladder, "this might have been a happy meeting." + +"Is there any use in saying what can do no good, aunt?" + +"Yes," said her aunt, with some warmth. "To thoroughly fill the air +with the past misfortune, so that other girls may take warning and +keep clear of it." + +Thomasin lowered her face to the apples again. "I am a warning to +others, just as thieves and drunkards and gamblers are," she said in +a low voice. "What a class to belong to! Do I really belong to them? +'Tis absurd! Yet why, aunt, does everybody keep on making me think +that I do, by the way they behave towards me? Why don't people judge +me by my acts? Now, look at me as I kneel here, picking up these +apples--do I look like a lost woman?... I wish all good women were as +good as I!" she added vehemently. + +"Strangers don't see you as I do," said Mrs. Yeobright; "they judge +from false report. Well, it is a silly job, and I am partly to +blame." + +"How quickly a rash thing can be done!" replied the girl. Her lips +were quivering, and tears so crowded themselves into her eyes that +she could hardly distinguish apples from fern as she continued +industriously searching to hide her weakness. + +"As soon as you have finished getting the apples," her aunt said, +descending the ladder, "come down, and we'll go for the holly. There +is nobody on the heath this afternoon, and you need not fear being +stared at. We must get some berries, or Clym will never believe in +our preparations." + +Thomasin came down when the apples were collected, and together they +went through the white palings to the heath beyond. The open hills +were airy and clear, and the remote atmosphere appeared, as it often +appears on a fine winter day, in distinct planes of illumination +independently toned, the rays which lit the nearer tracts of landscape +streaming visibly across those further off; a stratum of ensaffroned +light was imposed on a stratum of deep blue, and behind these lay +still remoter scenes wrapped in frigid grey. + +They reached the place where the hollies grew, which was in a conical +pit, so that the tops of the trees were not much above the general +level of the ground. Thomasin stepped up into a fork of one of the +bushes, as she had done under happier circumstances on many similar +occasions, and with a small chopper that they had brought she began to +lop off the heavily-berried boughs. + +"Don't scratch your face," said her aunt, who stood at the edge of the +pit, regarding the girl as she held on amid the glistening green and +scarlet masses of the tree. "Will you walk with me to meet him this +evening?" + +"I should like to. Else it would seem as if I had forgotten him," +said Thomasin, tossing out a bough. "Not that that would matter much; +I belong to one man; nothing can alter that. And that man I must +marry, for my pride's sake." + +"I am afraid--" began Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Ah, you think, 'That weak girl--how is she going to get a man to +marry her when she chooses?' But let me tell you one thing, aunt: Mr. +Wildeve is not a profligate man, any more than I am an improper woman. +He has an unfortunate manner, and doesn't try to make people like him +if they don't wish to do it of their own accord." + +"Thomasin," said Mrs. Yeobright quietly, fixing her eye upon her +niece, "do you think you deceive me in your defence of Mr. Wildeve?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"I have long had a suspicion that your love for him has changed its +colour since you have found him not to be the saint you thought him, +and that you act a part to me." + +"He wished to marry me, and I wish to marry him." + +"Now, I put it to you: would you at this present moment agree to be +his wife if that had not happened to entangle you with him?" + +Thomasin looked into the tree and appeared much disturbed. "Aunt," she +said presently, "I have, I think, a right to refuse to answer that +question." + +"Yes, you have." + +"You may think what you choose. I have never implied to you by word +or deed that I have grown to think otherwise of him, and I never will. +And I shall marry him." + +"Well, wait till he repeats his offer. I think he may do it, now that +he knows--something I told him. I don't for a moment dispute that +it is the most proper thing for you to marry him. Much as I have +objected to him in bygone days, I agree with you now, you may be sure. +It is the only way out of a false position, and a very galling one." + +"What did you tell him?" + +"That he was standing in the way of another lover of yours." + +"Aunt," said Thomasin, with round eyes, "what DO you mean?" + +"Don't be alarmed; it was my duty. I can say no more about it now, +but when it is over I will tell you exactly what I said, and why I +said it." + +Thomasin was perforce content. + +"And you will keep the secret of my would-be marriage from Clym for +the present?" she next asked. + +"I have given my word to. But what is the use of it? He must soon +know what has happened. A mere look at your face will show him that +something is wrong." + +Thomasin turned and regarded her aunt from the tree. "Now, hearken to +me," she said, her delicate voice expanding into firmness by a force +which was other than physical. "Tell him nothing. If he finds out +that I am not worthy to be his cousin, let him. But, since he loved +me once, we will not pain him by telling him my trouble too soon. The +air is full of the story, I know; but gossips will not dare to speak +of it to him for the first few days. His closeness to me is the very +thing that will hinder the tale from reaching him early. If I am not +made safe from sneers in a week or two I will tell him myself." + +The earnestness with which Thomasin spoke prevented further +objections. Her aunt simply said, "Very well. He should by rights +have been told at the time that the wedding was going to be. He will +never forgive you for your secrecy." + +"Yes, he will, when he knows it was because I wished to spare him, and +that I did not expect him home so soon. And you must not let me stand +in the way of your Christmas party. Putting it off would only make +matters worse." + +"Of course I shall not. I do not wish to show myself beaten before +all Egdon, and the sport of a man like Wildeve. We have enough +berries now, I think, and we had better take them home. By the time +we have decked the house with this and hung up the mistletoe, we must +think of starting to meet him." + +Thomasin came out of the tree, shook from her hair and dress the loose +berries which had fallen thereon, and went down the hill with her +aunt, each woman bearing half the gathered boughs. It was now nearly +four o'clock, and the sunlight was leaving the vales. When the west +grew red the two relatives came again from the house and plunged into +the heath in a different direction from the first, towards a point in +the distant highway along which the expected man was to return. + + + + +III + +How a Little Sound Produced a Great Dream + + +Eustacia stood just within the heath, straining her eyes in the +direction of Mrs. Yeobright's house and premises. No light, sound, or +movement was perceptible there. The evening was chilly; the spot was +dark and lonely. She inferred that the guest had not yet come; and +after lingering ten or fifteen minutes she turned again towards home. + +She had not far retraced her steps when sounds in front of her +betokened the approach of persons in conversation along the same path. +Soon their heads became visible against the sky. They were walking +slowly; and though it was too dark for much discovery of character +from aspect, the gait of them showed that they were not workers on the +heath. Eustacia stepped a little out of the foot-track to let them +pass. They were two women and a man; and the voices of the women were +those of Mrs. Yeobright and Thomasin. + +They went by her, and at the moment of passing appeared to discern her +dusky form. There came to her ears in a masculine voice, "Good +night!" + +She murmured a reply, glided by them, and turned round. She could +not, for a moment, believe that chance, unrequested, had brought into +her presence the soul of the house she had gone to inspect, the man +without whom her inspection would not have been thought of. + +She strained her eyes to see them, but was unable. Such was her +intentness, however, that it seemed as if her ears were performing +the functions of seeing as well as hearing. This extension of power +can almost be believed in at such moments. The deaf Dr. Kitto was +probably under the influence of a parallel fancy when he described his +body as having become, by long endeavour, so sensitive to vibrations +that he had gained the power of perceiving by it as by ears. + +She could follow every word that the ramblers uttered. They were +talking no secrets. They were merely indulging in the ordinary +vivacious chat of relatives who have long been parted in person though +not in soul. But it was not to the words that Eustacia listened; she +could not even have recalled, a few minutes later, what the words +were. It was to the alternating voice that gave out about one-tenth of +them--the voice that had wished her good night. Sometimes this throat +uttered Yes, sometimes it uttered No; sometimes it made inquiries +about a timeworn denizen of the place. Once it surprised her notions +by remarking upon the friendliness and geniality written in the faces +of the hills around. + +The three voices passed on, and decayed and died out upon her ear. +Thus much had been granted her; and all besides withheld. No event +could have been more exciting. During the greater part of the +afternoon she had been entrancing herself by imagining the fascination +which must attend a man come direct from beautiful Paris--laden with +its atmosphere, familiar with its charms. And this man had greeted +her. + +With the departure of the figures the profuse articulations of the +women wasted away from her memory; but the accents of the other stayed +on. Was there anything in the voice of Mrs. Yeobright's son--for Clym +it was--startling as a sound? No; it was simply comprehensive. All +emotional things were possible to the speaker of that "good night." +Eustacia's imagination supplied the rest--except the solution to one +riddle. What COULD the tastes of that man be who saw friendliness and +geniality in these shaggy hills? + +On such occasions as this a thousand ideas pass through a highly +charged woman's head; and they indicate themselves on her face; but +the changes, though actual, are minute. Eustacia's features went +through a rhythmical succession of them. She glowed; remembering the +mendacity of the imagination, she flagged; then she freshened; then +she fired; then she cooled again. It was a cycle of aspects, produced +by a cycle of visions. + +Eustacia entered her own house; she was excited. Her grandfather was +enjoying himself over the fire, raking about the ashes and exposing +the red-hot surface of the turves, so that their lurid glare +irradiated the chimney-corner with the hues of a furnace. + +"Why is it that we are never friendly with the Yeobrights?" she said, +coming forward and stretching her soft hands over the warmth. "I wish +we were. They seem to be very nice people." + +"Be hanged if I know why," said the captain. "I liked the old man +well enough, though he was as rough as a hedge. But you would never +have cared to go there, even if you might have, I am well sure." + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"Your town tastes would find them far too countrified. They sit in +the kitchen, drink mead and elderwine, and sand the floor to keep it +clean. A sensible way of life; but would you like it?" + +"I thought Mrs. Yeobright was a ladylike woman? A curate's daughter, +was she not?" + +"Yes; but she was obliged to live as her husband did; and I suppose +she has taken kindly to it by this time. Ah, I recollect that I once +accidentally offended her, and I have never seen her since." + +That night was an eventful one to Eustacia's brain, and one which she +hardly ever forgot. She dreamt a dream; and few human beings, from +Nebuchadnezzar to the Swaffham tinker, ever dreamt a more remarkable +one. Such an elaborately developed, perplexing, exciting dream was +certainly never dreamed by a girl in Eustacia's situation before. +It had as many ramifications as the Cretan labyrinth, as many +fluctuations as the Northern Lights, as much colour as a parterre +in June, and was as crowded with figures as a coronation. To Queen +Scheherazade the dream might have seemed not far removed from +commonplace; and to a girl just returned from all the courts of +Europe it might have seemed not more than interesting. But amid the +circumstances of Eustacia's life it was as wonderful as a dream could +be. + +There was, however, gradually evolved from its transformation scenes a +less extravagant episode, in which the heath dimly appeared behind the +general brilliancy of the action. She was dancing to wondrous music, +and her partner was the man in silver armour who had accompanied her +through the previous fantastic changes, the visor of his helmet being +closed. The mazes of the dance were ecstatic. Soft whispering came +into her ear from under the radiant helmet, and she felt like a woman +in Paradise. Suddenly these two wheeled out from the mass of dancers, +dived into one of the pools of the heath, and came out somewhere +beneath into an iridescent hollow, arched with rainbows. "It must +be here," said the voice by her side, and blushingly looking up she +saw him removing his casque to kiss her. At that moment there was a +cracking noise, and his figure fell into fragments like a pack of +cards. + +She cried aloud. "O that I had seen his face!" + +Eustacia awoke. The cracking had been that of the window shutter +downstairs, which the maid-servant was opening to let in the day, now +slowly increasing to Nature's meagre allowance at this sickly time of +the year. "O that I had seen his face!" she said again. "'Twas meant +for Mr. Yeobright!" + +When she became cooler she perceived that many of the phases of the +dream had naturally arisen out of the images and fancies of the day +before. But this detracted little from its interest, which lay in the +excellent fuel it provided for newly kindled fervour. She was at the +modulating point between indifference and love, at the stage called +"having a fancy for." It occurs once in the history of the most +gigantic passions, and it is a period when they are in the hands of +the weakest will. + +The perfervid woman was by this time half in love with a vision. The +fantastic nature of her passion, which lowered her as an intellect, +raised her as a soul. If she had had a little more self-control she +would have attenuated the emotion to nothing by sheer reasoning, and +so have killed it off. If she had had a little less pride she might +have gone and circumambulated the Yeobrights' premises at Blooms-End +at any maidenly sacrifice until she had seen him. But Eustacia did +neither of these things. She acted as the most exemplary might have +acted, being so influenced; she took an airing twice or thrice a day +upon the Egdon hills, and kept her eyes employed. + +The first occasion passed, and he did not come that way. + +She promenaded a second time, and was again the sole wanderer there. + +The third time there was a dense fog; she looked around, but without +much hope. Even if he had been walking within twenty yards of her she +could not have seen him. + +At the fourth attempt to encounter him it began to rain in torrents, +and she turned back. + +The fifth sally was in the afternoon: it was fine, and she remained +out long, walking to the very top of the valley in which Blooms-End +lay. She saw the white paling about half a mile off; but he did not +appear. It was almost with heart-sickness that she came home and with +a sense of shame at her weakness. She resolved to look for the man +from Paris no more. + +But Providence is nothing if not coquettish; and no sooner had +Eustacia formed this resolve than the opportunity came which, while +sought, had been entirely withholden. + + + + +IV + +Eustacia Is Led On to an Adventure + + +In the evening of this last day of expectation, which was the +twenty-third of December, Eustacia was at home alone. She had +passed the recent hour in lamenting over a rumour newly come to +her ears--that Yeobright's visit to his mother was to be of short +duration, and would end some time the next week. "Naturally," she +said to herself. A man in the full swing of his activities in a gay +city could not afford to linger long on Egdon Heath. That she would +behold face to face the owner of the awakening voice within the limits +of such a holiday was most unlikely, unless she were to haunt the +environs of his mother's house like a robin, to do which was difficult +and unseemly. + +The customary expedient of provincial girls and men in such +circumstances is churchgoing. In an ordinary village or country town +one can safely calculate that, either on Christmas-day or the Sunday +contiguous, any native home for the holidays, who has not through age +or _ennui_ lost the appetite for seeing and being seen, will turn +up in some pew or other, shining with hope, self-consciousness, and +new clothes. Thus the congregation on Christmas morning is mostly +a Tussaud collection of celebrities who have been born in the +neighbourhood. Hither the mistress, left neglected at home all the +year, can steal and observe the development of the returned lover who +has forgotten her, and think as she watches him over her prayer-book +that he may throb with a renewed fidelity when novelties have lost +their charm. And hither a comparatively recent settler like Eustacia +may betake herself to scrutinize the person of a native son who left +home before her advent upon the scene, and consider if the friendship +of his parents be worth cultivating during his next absence in order +to secure a knowledge of him on his next return. + +But these tender schemes were not feasible among the scattered +inhabitants of Egdon Heath. In name they were parishioners, but +virtually they belonged to no parish at all. People who came to these +few isolated houses to keep Christmas with their friends remained in +their friends' chimney-corners drinking mead and other comforting +liquors till they left again for good and all. Rain, snow, ice, mud +everywhere around, they did not care to trudge two or three miles to +sit wet-footed and splashed to the nape of their necks among those +who, though in some measure neighbours, lived close to the church, and +entered it clean and dry. Eustacia knew it was ten to one that Clym +Yeobright would go to no church at all during his few days of leave, +and that it would be a waste of labour for her to go driving the pony +and gig over a bad road in hope to see him there. + +It was dusk, and she was sitting by the fire in the dining-room or +hall, which they occupied at this time of the year in preference to +the parlour, because of its large hearth, constructed for turf-fires, +a fuel the captain was partial to in the winter season. The only +visible articles in the room were those on the window-sill, which +showed their shapes against the low sky: the middle article being the +old hourglass, and the other two a pair of ancient British urns which +had been dug from a barrow near, and were used as flower-pots for two +razor-leaved cactuses. Somebody knocked at the door. The servant was +out; so was her grandfather. The person, after waiting a minute, came +in and tapped at the door of the room. + +"Who's there?" said Eustacia. + +"Please, Cap'n Vye, will you let us--" + +Eustacia arose and went to the door. "I cannot allow you to come in +so boldly. You should have waited." + +"The cap'n said I might come in without any fuss," was answered in a +lad's pleasant voice. + +"Oh, did he?" said Eustacia more gently. "What do you want, Charley?" + +"Please will your grandfather lend us his fuel-house to try over our +parts in, tonight at seven o'clock?" + +"What, are you one of the Egdon mummers for this year?" + +"Yes, miss. The cap'n used to let the old mummers practise here." + +"I know it. Yes, you may use the fuel-house if you like," said +Eustacia languidly. + +The choice of Captain Vye's fuel-house as the scene of rehearsal was +dictated by the fact that his dwelling was nearly in the centre of the +heath. The fuel-house was as roomy as a barn, and was a most desirable +place for such a purpose. The lads who formed the company of players +lived at different scattered points around, and by meeting in this +spot the distances to be traversed by all the comers would be about +equally proportioned. + +For mummers and mumming Eustacia had the greatest contempt. The +mummers themselves were not afflicted with any such feeling for +their art, though at the same time they were not enthusiastic. A +traditional pastime is to be distinguished from a mere revival in no +more striking feature than in this, that while in the revival all is +excitement and fervour, the survival is carried on with a stolidity +and absence of stir which sets one wondering why a thing that is done +so perfunctorily should be kept up at all. Like Balaam and other +unwilling prophets, the agents seem moved by an inner compulsion +to say and do their allotted parts whether they will or no. This +unweeting manner of performance is the true ring by which, in this +refurbishing age, a fossilized survival may be known from a spurious +reproduction. + +The piece was the well-known play of "Saint George," and all who were +behind the scenes assisted in the preparations, including the women +of each household. Without the cooperation of sisters and sweethearts +the dresses were likely to be a failure; but on the other hand, this +class of assistance was not without its drawbacks. The girls could +never be brought to respect tradition in designing and decorating the +armour; they insisted on attaching loops and bows of silk and velvet +in any situation pleasing to their taste. Gorget, gusset, basinet, +cuirass, gauntlet, sleeve, all alike in the view of these feminine +eyes were practicable spaces whereon to sew scraps of fluttering +colour. + +It might be that Joe, who fought on the side of Christendom, had a +sweetheart, and that Jim, who fought on the side of the Moslem, had +one likewise. During the making of the costumes it would come to the +knowledge of Joe's sweetheart that Jim's was putting brilliant silk +scallops at the bottom of her lover's surcoat, in addition to the +ribbons of the visor, the bars of which, being invariably formed of +coloured strips about half an inch wide hanging before the face, +were mostly of that material. Joe's sweetheart straightway placed +brilliant silk on the scallops of the hem in question, and, going a +little further, added ribbon tufts to the shoulder pieces. Jim's, not +to be outdone, would affix bows and rosettes everywhere. + +The result was that in the end the Valiant Soldier, of the Christian +army, was distinguished by no peculiarity of accoutrement from the +Turkish Knight; and what was worse, on a casual view Saint George +himself might be mistaken for his deadly enemy, the Saracen. The +guisers themselves, though inwardly regretting this confusion of +persons, could not afford to offend those by whose assistance they +so largely profited, and the innovations were allowed to stand. + +There was, it is true, a limit to this tendency to uniformity. +The Leech or Doctor preserved his character intact: his darker +habiliments, peculiar hat, and the bottle of physic slung under his +arm, could never be mistaken. And the same might be said of the +conventional figure of Father Christmas, with his gigantic club, an +older man, who accompanied the band as general protector in long night +journeys from parish to parish, and was bearer of the purse. + +Seven o'clock, the hour of the rehearsal, came round, and in a short +time Eustacia could hear voices in the fuel-house. To dissipate in +some trifling measure her abiding sense of the murkiness of human life +she went to the "linhay" or lean-to-shed, which formed the root-store +of their dwelling and abutted on the fuel-house. Here was a small +rough hole in the mud wall, originally made for pigeons, through which +the interior of the next shed could be viewed. A light came from it +now; and Eustacia stepped upon a stool to look in upon the scene. + +On a ledge in the fuel-house stood three tall rush-lights and by the +light of them seven or eight lads were marching about, haranguing, and +confusing each other, in endeavours to perfect themselves in the play. +Humphrey and Sam, the furze and turf cutters, were there looking on, +so also was Timothy Fairway, who leant against the wall and prompted +the boys from memory, interspersing among the set words remarks and +anecdotes of the superior days when he and others were the Egdon +mummers-elect that these lads were now. + +"Well, ye be as well up to it as ever ye will be," he said. "Not that +such mumming would have passed in our time. Harry as the Saracen +should strut a bit more, and John needn't holler his inside out. +Beyond that perhaps you'll do. Have you got all your clothes ready?" + +"We shall by Monday." + +"Your first outing will be Monday night, I suppose?" + +"Yes. At Mrs. Yeobright's." + +"Oh, Mrs. Yeobright's. What makes her want to see ye? I should think +a middle-aged woman was tired of mumming." + +"She's got up a bit of a party, because 'tis the first Christmas that +her son Clym has been home for a long time." + +"To be sure, to be sure--her party! I am going myself. I almost +forgot it, upon my life." + +Eustacia's face flagged. There was to be a party at the Yeobrights'; +she, naturally, had nothing to do with it. She was a stranger to +all such local gatherings, and had always held them as scarcely +appertaining to her sphere. But had she been going, what an +opportunity would have been afforded her of seeing the man whose +influence was penetrating her like summer sun! To increase that +influence was coveted excitement; to cast it off might be to regain +serenity; to leave it as it stood was tantalizing. + +The lads and men prepared to leave the premises, and Eustacia returned +to her fireside. She was immersed in thought, but not for long. In a +few minutes the lad Charley, who had come to ask permission to use the +place, returned with the key to the kitchen. Eustacia heard him, and +opening the door into the passage said, "Charley, come here." + +The lad was surprised. He entered the front room not without +blushing; for he, like many, had felt the power of this girl's face +and form. + +She pointed to a seat by the fire, and entered the other side of the +chimney-corner herself. It could be seen in her face that whatever +motive she might have had in asking the youth indoors would soon +appear. + +"Which part do you play, Charley--the Turkish Knight, do you not?" +inquired the beauty, looking across the smoke of the fire to him on +the other side. + +"Yes, miss, the Turkish Knight," he replied diffidently. + +"Is yours a long part?" + +"Nine speeches, about." + +"Can you repeat them to me? If so I should like to hear them." + +The lad smiled into the glowing turf and began-- + + + "Here come I, a Turkish Knight, + Who learnt in Turkish land to fight," + + +continuing the discourse throughout the scenes to the concluding +catastrophe of his fall by the hand of Saint George. + +Eustacia had occasionally heard the part recited before. When the lad +ended she began, precisely in the same words, and ranted on without +hitch or divergence till she too reached the end. It was the same +thing, yet how different. Like in form, it had the added softness +and finish of a Raffaelle after Perugino, which, while faithfully +reproducing the original subject, entirely distances the original art. + +Charley's eyes rounded with surprise. "Well, you be a clever lady!" +he said, in admiration. "I've been three weeks learning mine." + +"I have heard it before," she quietly observed. "Now, would you do +anything to please me, Charley?" + +"I'd do a good deal, miss." + +"Would you let me play your part for one night?" + +"Oh, miss! But your woman's gown--you couldn't." + +"I can get boy's clothes--at least all that would be wanted besides +the mumming dress. What should I have to give you to lend me your +things, to let me take your place for an hour or two on Monday night, +and on no account to say a word about who or what I am? You would, of +course, have to excuse yourself from playing that night, and to say +that somebody--a cousin of Miss Vye's--would act for you. The other +mummers have never spoken to me in their lives, so that it would be +safe enough; and if it were not, I should not mind. Now, what must I +give you to agree to this? Half a crown?" + +The youth shook his head + +"Five shillings?" + +He shook his head again. "Money won't do it," he said, brushing the +iron head of the fire-dog with the hollow of his hand. + +"What will, then, Charley?" said Eustacia in a disappointed tone. + +"You know what you forbade me at the Maypoling, miss," murmured the +lad, without looking at her, and still stroking the firedog's head. + +"Yes," said Eustacia, with a little more hauteur. "You wanted to join +hands with me in the ring, if I recollect?" + +"Half an hour of that, and I'll agree, miss." + +Eustacia regarded the youth steadfastly. He was three years younger +than herself, but apparently not backward for his age. "Half an hour +of what?" she said, though she guessed what. + +"Holding your hand in mine." + +She was silent. "Make it a quarter of an hour," she said. + +"Yes, Miss Eustacia--I will, if I may kiss it too. A quarter of an +hour. And I'll swear to do the best I can to let you take my place +without anybody knowing. Don't you think somebody might know your +tongue, miss?" + +"It is possible. But I will put a pebble in my mouth to make is less +likely. Very well; you shall be allowed to have my hand as soon as +you bring the dress and your sword and staff. I don't want you any +longer now." + +Charley departed, and Eustacia felt more and more interest in life. +Here was something to do: here was some one to see, and a charmingly +adventurous way to see him. "Ah," she said to herself, "want of an +object to live for--that's all is the matter with me!" + +Eustacia's manner was as a rule of a slumberous sort, her passions +being of the massive rather than the vivacious kind. But when aroused +she would make a dash which, just for the time, was not unlike the +move of a naturally lively person. + +On the question of recognition she was somewhat indifferent. By +the acting lads themselves she was not likely to be known. With the +guests who might be assembled she was hardly so secure. Yet detection, +after all, would be no such dreadful thing. The fact only could be +detected, her true motive never. It would be instantly set down as the +passing freak of a girl whose ways were already considered singular. +That she was doing for an earnest reason what would most naturally be +done in jest was at any rate a safe secret. + + + +The next evening Eustacia stood punctually at the fuel-house door, +waiting for the dusk which was to bring Charley with the trappings. +Her grandfather was at home tonight, and she would be unable to ask +her confederate indoors. + +He appeared on the dark ridge of heathland, like a fly on a negro, +bearing the articles with him, and came up breathless with his walk. + +"Here are the things," he whispered, placing them upon the threshold. +"And now, Miss Eustacia--" + +"The payment. It is quite ready. I am as good as my word." + +She leant against the door-post, and gave him her hand. Charley took +it in both his own with a tenderness beyond description, unless it was +like that of a child holding a captured sparrow. + +"Why, there's a glove on it!" he said in a deprecating way. + +"I have been walking," she observed. + +"But, miss!" + +"Well--it is hardly fair." She pulled off the glove, and gave him her +bare hand. + +They stood together minute after minute, without further speech, each +looking at the blackening scene, and each thinking his and her own +thoughts. + +"I think I won't use it all up tonight," said Charley devotedly, when +six or eight minutes had been passed by him caressing her hand. "May +I have the other few minutes another time?" + +"As you like," said she without the least emotion. "But it must be +over in a week. Now, there is only one thing I want you to do: to wait +while I put on the dress, and then to see if I do my part properly. +But let me look first indoors." + +She vanished for a minute or two, and went in. Her grandfather was +safely asleep in his chair. "Now, then," she said, on returning, +"walk down the garden a little way, and when I am ready I'll call +you." + +Charley walked and waited, and presently heard a soft whistle. He +returned to the fuel-house door. + +"Did you whistle, Miss Vye?" + +"Yes; come in," reached him in Eustacia's voice from a back quarter. +"I must not strike a light till the door is shut, or it may be seen +shining. Push your hat into the hole through to the wash-house, if +you can feel your way across." + +Charley did as commanded, and she struck the light, revealing herself +to be changed in sex, brilliant in colours, and armed from top to +toe. Perhaps she quailed a little under Charley's vigorous gaze, but +whether any shyness at her male attire appeared upon her countenance +could not be seen by reason of the strips of ribbon which used to +cover the face in mumming costumes, representing the barred visor of +the mediaeval helmet. + +"It fits pretty well," she said, looking down at the white overalls, +"except that the tunic, or whatever you call it, is long in the +sleeve. The bottom of the overalls I can turn up inside. Now pay +attention." + +Eustacia then proceeded in her delivery, striking the sword against +the staff or lance at the minatory phrases, in the orthodox mumming +manner, and strutting up and down. Charley seasoned his admiration +with criticism of the gentlest kind, for the touch of Eustacia's hand +yet remained with him. + +"And now for your excuse to the others," she said. "Where do you meet +before you go to Mrs. Yeobright's?" + +"We thought of meeting here, miss, if you have nothing to say against +it. At eight o'clock, so as to get there by nine." + +"Yes. Well, you of course must not appear. I will march in about five +minutes late, ready-dressed, and tell them that you can't come. I +have decided that the best plan will be for you to be sent somewhere +by me, to make a real thing of the excuse. Our two heath-croppers are +in the habit of straying into the meads, and tomorrow evening you can +go and see if they are gone there. I'll manage the rest. Now you may +leave me." + +"Yes, miss. But I think I'll have one minute more of what I am owed, +if you don't mind." + +Eustacia gave him her hand as before. + +"One minute," she said, and counted on till she reached seven or eight +minutes. Hand and person she then withdrew to a distance of several +feet, and recovered some of her old dignity. The contract completed, +she raised between them a barrier impenetrable as a wall. + +"There, 'tis all gone; and I didn't mean quite all," he said, with a +sigh. + +"You had good measure," said she, turning away. + +"Yes, miss. Well, 'tis over, and now I'll get home-along." + + + + +V + +Through the Moonlight + + +The next evening the mummers were assembled in the same spot, awaiting +the entrance of the Turkish Knight. + +"Twenty minutes after eight by the Quiet Woman, and Charley not come." + +"Ten minutes past by Blooms-End." + +"It wants ten minutes to, by Grandfer Cantle's watch." + +"And 'tis five minutes past by the captain's clock." + +On Egdon there was no absolute hour of the day. The time at any +moment was a number of varying doctrines professed by the different +hamlets, some of them having originally grown up from a common root, +and then become divided by secession, some having been alien from the +beginning. West Egdon believed in Blooms-End time, East Egdon in the +time of the Quiet Woman Inn. Grandfer Cantle's watch had numbered +many followers in years gone by, but since he had grown older faiths +were shaken. Thus, the mummers having gathered hither from scattered +points each came with his own tenets on early and late; and they +waited a little longer as a compromise. + +Eustacia had watched the assemblage through the hole; and seeing that +now was the proper moment to enter, she went from the "linhay" and +boldly pulled the bobbin of the fuel-house door. Her grandfather was +safe at the Quiet Woman. + +"Here's Charley at last! How late you be, Charley." + +"'Tis not Charley," said the Turkish Knight from within his visor. +"'Tis a cousin of Miss Vye's, come to take Charley's place from +curiosity. He was obliged to go and look for the heath-croppers that +have got into the meads, and I agreed to take his place, as he knew he +couldn't come back here again tonight. I know the part as well as he." + +Her graceful gait, elegant figure, and dignified manner in general won +the mummers to the opinion that they had gained by the exchange, if +the newcomer were perfect in his part. + +"It don't matter--if you be not too young," said Saint George. +Eustacia's voice had sounded somewhat more juvenile and fluty than +Charley's. + +"I know every word of it, I tell you," said Eustacia decisively. Dash +being all that was required to carry her triumphantly through, she +adopted as much as was necessary. "Go ahead, lads, with the try-over. +I'll challenge any of you to find a mistake in me." + +The play was hastily rehearsed, whereupon the other mummers were +delighted with the new knight. They extinguished the candles at +half-past eight, and set out upon the heath in the direction of Mrs. +Yeobright's house at Bloom's-End. + +There was a slight hoar-frost that night, and the moon, though not +more than half full, threw a spirited and enticing brightness upon +the fantastic figures of the mumming band, whose plumes and ribbons +rustled in their walk like autumn leaves. Their path was not over +Rainbarrow now, but down a valley which left that ancient elevation +a little to the east. The bottom of the vale was green to a width of +ten yards or thereabouts, and the shining facets of frost upon the +blades of grass seemed to move on with the shadows of those they +surrounded. The masses of furze and heath to the right and left were +dark as ever; a mere half-moon was powerless to silver such sable +features as theirs. + +Half-an-hour of walking and talking brought them to the spot in the +valley where the grass riband widened and led down to the front of +the house. At sight of the place Eustacia, who had felt a few passing +doubts during her walk with the youths, again was glad that the +adventure had been undertaken. She had come out to see a man who +might possibly have the power to deliver her soul from a most deadly +oppression. What was Wildeve? Interesting, but inadequate. Perhaps +she would see a sufficient hero tonight. + +As they drew nearer to the front of the house the mummers became aware +that music and dancing were briskly flourishing within. Every now +and then a long low note from the serpent, which was the chief wind +instrument played at these times, advanced further into the heath than +the thin treble part, and reached their ears alone; and next a more +than usually loud tread from a dancer would come the same way. With +nearer approach these fragmentary sounds became pieced together, +and were found to be the salient points of the tune called "Nancy's +Fancy." + +He was there, of course. Who was she that he danced with? Perhaps +some unknown woman, far beneath herself in culture, was by that most +subtle of lures sealing his fate this very instant. To dance with a +man is to concentrate a twelve-month's regulation fire upon him in the +fragment of an hour. To pass to courtship without acquaintance, to +pass to marriage without courtship, is a skipping of terms reserved +for those alone who tread this royal road. She would see how his heart +lay by keen observation of them all. + +The enterprising lady followed the mumming company through the gate +in the white paling, and stood before the open porch. The house was +encrusted with heavy thatchings, which dropped between the upper +windows; the front, upon which the moonbeams directly played, had +originally been white; but a huge pyracanth now darkened the greater +portion. + +It became at once evident that the dance was proceeding immediately +within the surface of the door, no apartment intervening. The brushing +of skirts and elbows, sometimes the bumping of shoulders, could be +heard against the very panels. Eustacia, though living within two +miles of the place, had never seen the interior of this quaint old +habitation. Between Captain Vye and the Yeobrights there had never +existed much acquaintance, the former having come as a stranger and +purchased the long-empty house at Mistover Knap not long before +the death of Mrs. Yeobright's husband; and with that event and the +departure of her son such friendship as had grown up became quite +broken off. + +"Is there no passage inside the door, then?" asked Eustacia as they +stood within the porch. + +"No," said the lad who played the Saracen. "The door opens right upon +the front sitting-room, where the spree's going on." + +"So that we cannot open the door without stopping the dance." + +"That's it. Here we must bide till they have done, for they always +bolt the back door after dark." + +"They won't be much longer," said Father Christmas. + +This assertion, however, was hardly borne out by the event. Again the +instruments ended the tune; again they recommenced with as much fire +and pathos as if it were the first strain. The air was now that one +without any particular beginning, middle, or end, which perhaps, among +all the dances which throng an inspired fiddler's fancy, best conveys +the idea of the interminable--the celebrated "Devil's Dream." The +fury of personal movement that was kindled by the fury of the notes +could be approximately imagined by these outsiders under the moon, +from the occasional kicks of toes and heels against the door, whenever +the whirl round had been of more than customary velocity. + +The first five minutes of listening was interesting enough to the +mummers. The five minutes extended to ten minutes, and these to a +quarter of an hour; but no signs of ceasing were audible in the lively +Dream. The bumping against the door, the laughter, the stamping, were +all as vigorous as ever, and the pleasure in being outside lessened +considerably. + +"Why does Mrs. Yeobright give parties of this sort?" Eustacia asked, +a little surprised to hear merriment so pronounced. + +"It is not one of her bettermost parlour-parties. She's asked the +plain neighbours and workpeople without drawing any lines, just to +give 'em a good supper and such like. Her son and she wait upon the +folks." + +"I see," said Eustacia. + +"'Tis the last strain, I think," said Saint George, with his ear to +the panel. "A young man and woman have just swung into this corner, +and he's saying to her, 'Ah, the pity; 'tis over for us this time, my +own.'" + +"Thank God!" said the Turkish Knight, stamping, and taking from the +wall the conventional lance that each of the mummers carried. Her +boots being thinner than those of the young men, the hoar had damped +her feet and made them cold. + +"Upon my song 'tis another ten minutes for us," said the Valiant +Soldier, looking through the keyhole as the tune modulated into +another without stopping. "Grandfer Cantle is standing in this +corner, waiting his turn." + +"'Twon't be long; 'tis a six-handed reel," said the Doctor. + +"Why not go in, dancing or no? They sent for us," said the Saracen. + +"Certainly not," said Eustacia authoritatively, as she paced smartly +up and down from door to gate to warm herself. "We should burst into +the middle of them and stop the dance, and that would be unmannerly." + +"He thinks himself somebody because he has had a bit more schooling +than we," said the Doctor. + +"You may go to the deuce!" said Eustacia. + +There was a whispered conversation between three or four of them, and +one turned to her. + +"Will you tell us one thing?" he said, not without gentleness. "Be +you Miss Vye? We think you must be." + +"You may think what you like," said Eustacia slowly. "But honourable +lads will not tell tales upon a lady." + +"We'll say nothing, miss. That's upon our honour." + +"Thank you," she replied. + +At this moment the fiddles finished off with a screech, and the +serpent emitted a last note that nearly lifted the roof. When, from +the comparative quiet within, the mummers judged that the dancers had +taken their seats, Father Christmas advanced, lifted the latch, and +put his head inside the door. + +"Ah, the mummers, the mummers!" cried several guests at once. "Clear +a space for the mummers." + +Hump-backed Father Christmas then made a complete entry, swinging his +huge club, and in a general way clearing the stage for the actors +proper, while he informed the company in smart verse that he was come, +welcome or welcome not; concluding his speech with + + + "Make room, make room, my gallant boys, + And give us space to rhyme; + We've come to show Saint George's play, + Upon this Christmas time." + + +The guests were now arranging themselves at one end of the room, the +fiddler was mending a string, the serpent-player was emptying his +mouthpiece, and the play began. First of those outside the Valiant +Soldier entered, in the interest of Saint George-- + + + "Here come I, the Valiant Soldier; + Slasher is my name;" + + +and so on. This speech concluded with a challenge to the infidel, +at the end of which it was Eustacia's duty to enter as the Turkish +Knight. She, with the rest who were not yet on, had hitherto remained +in the moonlight which streamed under the porch. With no apparent +effort or backwardness she came in, beginning-- + + + "Here come I, a Turkish Knight, + Who learnt in Turkish land to fight; + I'll fight this man with courage bold: + If his blood's hot I'll make it cold!" + + +During her declamation Eustacia held her head erect, and spoke as +roughly as she could, feeling pretty secure from observation. But +the concentration upon her part necessary to prevent discovery, the +newness of the scene, the shine of the candles, and the confusing +effect upon her vision of the ribboned visor which hid her features, +left her absolutely unable to perceive who were present as spectators. +On the further side of a table bearing candles she could faintly +discern faces, and that was all. + +Meanwhile Jim Starks as the Valiant Soldier had come forward, and, +with a glare upon the Turk, replied-- + + + "If, then, thou art that Turkish Knight, + Draw out thy sword, and let us fight!" + + +And fight they did; the issue of the combat being that the Valiant +Soldier was slain by a preternaturally inadequate thrust from +Eustacia, Jim, in his ardour for genuine histrionic art, coming down +like a log upon the stone floor with force enough to dislocate his +shoulder. Then, after more words from the Turkish Knight, rather too +faintly delivered, and statements that he'd fight Saint George and +all his crew, Saint George himself magnificently entered with the +well-known flourish-- + + + "Here come I, Saint George, the valiant man, + With naked sword and spear in hand, + Who fought the dragon and brought him to the slaughter, + And by this won fair Sabra, the King of Egypt's daughter; + What mortal man would dare to stand + Before me with my sword in hand?" + + +This was the lad who had first recognized Eustacia; and when she now, +as the Turk, replied with suitable defiance, and at once began the +combat, the young fellow took especial care to use his sword as gently +as possible. Being wounded, the Knight fell upon one knee, according +to the direction. The Doctor now entered, restored the Knight by +giving him a draught from the bottle which he carried, and the +fight was again resumed, the Turk sinking by degrees until quite +overcome--dying as hard in this venerable drama as he is said to do at +the present day. + +This gradual sinking to the earth was, in fact, one reason why +Eustacia had thought that the part of the Turkish Knight, though not +the shortest, would suit her best. A direct fall from upright to +horizontal, which was the end of the other fighting characters, was +not an elegant or decorous part for a girl. But it was easy to die +like a Turk, by a dogged decline. + +Eustacia was now among the number of the slain, though not on the +floor, for she had managed to sink into a sloping position against the +clock-case, so that her head was well elevated. The play proceeded +between Saint George, the Saracen, the Doctor, and Father Christmas; +and Eustacia, having no more to do, for the first time found leisure +to observe the scene round, and to search for the form that had drawn +her hither. + + + + +VI + +The Two Stand Face to Face + + +The room had been arranged with a view to the dancing, the large +oak table having been moved back till it stood as a breastwork to +the fireplace. At each end, behind, and in the chimney-corner were +grouped the guests, many of them being warm-faced and panting, among +whom Eustacia cursorily recognized some well-to-do persons from +beyond the heath. Thomasin, as she had expected, was not visible, and +Eustacia recollected that a light had shone from an upper window when +they were outside--the window, probably, of Thomasin's room. A nose, +chin, hands, knees, and toes projected from the seat within the +chimney opening, which members she found to unite in the person of +Grandfer Cantle, Mrs. Yeobright's occasional assistant in the garden, +and therefore one of the invited. The smoke went up from an Etna of +peat in front of him, played round the notches of the chimney-crook, +struck against the saltbox, and got lost among the flitches. + +Another part of the room soon riveted her gaze. At the other side of +the chimney stood the settle, which is the necessary supplement to a +fire so open that nothing less than a strong breeze will carry up the +smoke. It is, to the hearths of old-fashioned cavernous fireplaces, +what the east belt of trees is to the exposed country estate, or the +north wall to the garden. Outside the settle candles gutter, locks +of hair wave, young women shiver, and old men sneeze. Inside is +Paradise. Not a symptom of a draught disturbs the air; the sitters' +backs are as warm as their faces, and songs and old tales are drawn +from the occupants by the comfortable heat, like fruit from melon +plants in a frame. + +It was, however, not with those who sat in the settle that Eustacia +was concerned. A face showed itself with marked distinctness against +the dark-tanned wood of the upper part. The owner, who was leaning +against the settle's outer end, was Clement Yeobright, or Clym, as +he was called here; she knew it could be nobody else. The spectacle +constituted an area of two feet in Rembrandt's intensest manner. A +strange power in the lounger's appearance lay in the fact that, though +his whole figure was visible, the observer's eye was only aware of his +face. + +To one of middle age the countenance was that of a young man, though a +youth might hardly have seen any necessity for the term of immaturity. +But it was really one of those faces which convey less the idea of so +many years as its age than of so much experience as its store. The +number of their years may have adequately summed up Jared, Mahalaleel, +and the rest of the antediluvians, but the age of a modern man is to +be measured by the intensity of his history. + +The face was well shaped, even excellently. But the mind within was +beginning to use it as a mere waste tablet whereon to trace its +idiosyncrasies as they developed themselves. The beauty here visible +would in no long time be ruthlessly over-run by its parasite, thought, +which might just as well have fed upon a plainer exterior where there +was nothing it could harm. Had Heaven preserved Yeobright from a +wearing habit of meditation, people would have said, "A handsome man." +Had his brain unfolded under sharper contours they would have said, "A +thoughtful man." But an inner strenuousness was preying upon an outer +symmetry, and they rated his look as singular. + +Hence people who began by beholding him ended by perusing him. +His countenance was overlaid with legible meanings. Without being +thought-worn he yet had certain marks derived from a perception of his +surroundings, such as are not unfrequently found on men at the end of +the four or five years of endeavour which follow the close of placid +pupilage. He already showed that thought is a disease of flesh, and +indirectly bore evidence that ideal physical beauty is incompatible +with emotional development and a full recognition of the coil of +things. Mental luminousness must be fed with the oil of life, even +though there is already a physical need for it; and the pitiful sight +of two demands on one supply was just showing itself here. + +When standing before certain men the philosopher regrets that thinkers +are but perishable tissue, the artist that perishable tissue has to +think. Thus to deplore, each from his point of view, the mutually +destructive interdependence of spirit and flesh would have been +instinctive with these in critically observing Yeobright. + +As for his look, it was a natural cheerfulness striving against +depression from without, and not quite succeeding. The look suggested +isolation, but it revealed something more. As is usual with bright +natures, the deity that lies ignominiously chained within an ephemeral +human carcase shone out of him like a ray. + +The effect upon Eustacia was palpable. The extraordinary pitch of +excitement that she had reached beforehand would, indeed, have caused +her to be influenced by the most commonplace man. She was troubled at +Yeobright's presence. + +The remainder of the play ended: the Saracen's head was cut off, and +Saint George stood as victor. Nobody commented, any more than they +would have commented on the fact of mushrooms coming in autumn or +snowdrops in spring. They took the piece as phlegmatically as did the +actors themselves. It was a phase of cheerfulness which was, as a +matter of course, to be passed through every Christmas; and there was +no more to be said. + +They sang the plaintive chant which follows the play, during which all +the dead men rise to their feet in a silent and awful manner, like +the ghosts of Napoleon's soldiers in the Midnight Review. Afterwards +the door opened, and Fairway appeared on the threshold, accompanied +by Christian and another. They had been waiting outside for the +conclusion of the play, as the players had waited for the conclusion +of the dance. + +"Come in, come in," said Mrs. Yeobright; and Clym went forward to +welcome them. "How is it you are so late? Grandfer Cantle has been +here ever so long, and we thought you'd have come with him, as you +live so near one another." + +"Well, I should have come earlier," Mr. Fairway said, and paused to +look along the beam of the ceiling for a nail to hang his hat on; but, +finding his accustomed one to be occupied by the mistletoe, and all +the nails in the walls to be burdened with bunches of holly, he at +last relieved himself of the hat by ticklishly balancing it between +the candlebox and the head of the clock-case. "I should have come +earlier, ma'am," he resumed, with a more composed air, "but I know +what parties be, and how there's none too much room in folks' houses +at such times, so I thought I wouldn't come till you'd got settled a +bit." + +"And I thought so too, Mrs. Yeobright," said Christian earnestly, "but +father there was so eager that he had no manners at all, and left home +almost afore 'twas dark. I told him 'twas barely decent in a' old man +to come so oversoon; but words be wind." + +"Klk! I wasn't going to bide waiting about, till half the game was +over! I'm as light as a kite when anything's going on!" crowed +Grandfer Cantle from the chimney-seat. + +Fairway had meanwhile concluded a critical gaze at Yeobright. "Now, +you may not believe it," he said to the rest of the room, "but I +should never have knowed this gentleman if I had met him anywhere off +his own he'th--he's altered so much." + +"You too have altered, and for the better, I think Timothy," said +Yeobright, surveying the firm figure of Fairway. + +"Master Yeobright, look me over too. I have altered for the better, +haven't I, hey?" said Grandfer Cantle, rising and placing himself +something above half a foot from Clym's eye, to induce the most +searching criticism. + +"To be sure we will," said Fairway, taking the candle and moving it +over the surface of the Grandfer's countenance, the subject of his +scrutiny irradiating himself with light and pleasant smiles, and +giving himself jerks of juvenility. + +"You haven't changed much," said Yeobright. + +"If there's any difference, Grandfer is younger," appended Fairway +decisively. + +"And yet not my own doing, and I feel no pride in it," said the +pleased ancient. "But I can't be cured of my vagaries; them I plead +guilty to. Yes, Master Cantle always was that, as we know. But I am +nothing by the side of you, Mister Clym." + +"Nor any o' us," said Humphrey, in a low rich tone of admiration, not +intended to reach anybody's ears. + +"Really, there would have been nobody here who could have stood as +decent second to him, or even third, if I hadn't been a soldier in the +Bang-up Locals (as we was called for our smartness)," said Grandfer +Cantle. "And even as 'tis we all look a little scammish beside him. +But in the year four 'twas said there wasn't a finer figure in +the whole South Wessex than I, as I looked when dashing past the +shop-winders with the rest of our company on the day we ran out o' +Budmouth because it was thoughted that Boney had landed round the +point. There was I, straight as a young poplar, wi' my firelock, and +my bag-net, and my spatter-dashes, and my stock sawing my jaws off, +and my accoutrements sheening like the seven stars! Yes, neighbours, +I was a pretty sight in my soldiering days. You ought to have seen me +in four!" + +"'Tis his mother's side where Master Clym's figure comes from, bless +ye," said Timothy. "I know'd her brothers well. Longer coffins were +never made in the whole country of South Wessex, and 'tis said that +poor George's knees were crumpled up a little e'en as 'twas." + +"Coffins, where?" inquired Christian, drawing nearer. "Have the ghost +of one appeared to anybody, Master Fairway?" + +"No, no. Don't let your mind so mislead your ears, Christian; and be +a man," said Timothy reproachfully. + +"I will." said Christian. "But now I think o't my shadder last night +seemed just the shape of a coffin. What is it a sign of when your +shade's like a coffin, neighbours? It can't be nothing to be afeared +of, I suppose?" + +"Afeared, no!" said the Grandfer. "Faith, I was never afeard of +nothing except Boney, or I shouldn't ha' been the soldier I was. Yes, +'tis a thousand pities you didn't see me in four!" + +By this time the mummers were preparing to leave; but Mrs. Yeobright +stopped them by asking them to sit down and have a little supper. To +this invitation Father Christmas, in the name of them all, readily +agreed. + +Eustacia was happy in the opportunity of staying a little longer. +The cold and frosty night without was doubly frigid to her. But the +lingering was not without its difficulties. Mrs. Yeobright, for want +of room in the larger apartment, placed a bench for the mummers +half-way through the pantry door, which opened from the sitting-room. +Here they seated themselves in a row, the door being left open: thus +they were still virtually in the same apartment. Mrs. Yeobright +now murmured a few words to her son, who crossed the room to the +pantry-door, striking his head against the mistletoe as he passed, and +brought the mummers beef and bread, cake pastry, mead, and elder-wine, +the waiting being done by him and his mother, that the little +maid-servant might sit as guest. The mummers doffed their helmets, +and began to eat and drink. + +"But you will surely have some?" said Clym to the Turkish Knight, +as he stood before that warrior, tray in hand. She had refused, and +still sat covered, only the sparkle of her eyes being visible between +the ribbons which covered her face. + +"None, thank you," replied Eustacia. + +"He's quite a youngster," said the Saracen apologetically, "and you +must excuse him. He's not one of the old set, but have jined us +because t'other couldn't come." + +"But he will take something?" persisted Yeobright. "Try a glass of +mead or elder-wine." + +"Yes, you had better try that," said the Saracen. "It will keep the +cold out going home-along." + +Though Eustacia could not eat without uncovering her face she +could drink easily enough beneath her disguise. The elder-wine was +accordingly accepted, and the glass vanished inside the ribbons. + +At moments during this performance Eustacia was half in doubt about +the security of her position; yet it had a fearful joy. A series of +attentions paid to her, and yet not to her but to some imaginary +person, by the first man she had ever been inclined to adore, +complicated her emotions indescribably. She had loved him partly +because he was exceptional in this scene, partly because she had +determined to love him, chiefly because she was in desperate need of +loving somebody after wearying of Wildeve. Believing that she must +love him in spite of herself, she had been influenced after the +fashion of the second Lord Lyttleton and other persons, who have +dreamed that they were to die on a certain day, and by stress of a +morbid imagination have actually brought about that event. Once let +a maiden admit the possibility of her being stricken with love for +some one at a certain hour and place, and the thing is as good as +done. + +Did anything at this moment suggest to Yeobright the sex of the +creature whom that fantastic guise inclosed, how extended was her +scope both in feeling and in making others feel, and how far her +compass transcended that of her companions in the band? When the +disguised Queen of Love appeared before Aeneas a preternatural +perfume accompanied her presence and betrayed her quality. If such a +mysterious emanation ever was projected by the emotions of an earthly +woman upon their object, it must have signified Eustacia's presence to +Yeobright now. He looked at her wistfully, then seemed to fall into +a reverie, as if he were forgetting what he observed. The momentary +situation ended, he passed on, and Eustacia sipped her wine without +knowing what she drank. The man for whom she had predetermined to +nourish a passion went into the small room, and across it to the +further extremity. + +The mummers, as has been stated, were seated on a bench, one end of +which extended into the small apartment, or pantry, for want of space +in the outer room. Eustacia, partly from shyness, had chosen the +midmost seat, which thus commanded a view of the interior of the +pantry as well as the room containing the guests. When Clym passed +down the pantry her eyes followed him in the gloom which prevailed +there. At the remote end was a door which, just as he was about to +open it for himself, was opened by somebody within; and light streamed +forth. + +The person was Thomasin, with a candle, looking anxious, pale, and +interesting. Yeobright appeared glad to see her, and pressed her +hand. "That's right, Tamsie," he said heartily, as though recalled +to himself by the sight of her, "you have decided to come down. I am +glad of it." + +"Hush--no, no," she said quickly. "I only came to speak to you." + +"But why not join us?" + +"I cannot. At least I would rather not. I am not well enough, and we +shall have plenty of time together now you are going to be home a good +long holiday." + +"It isn't nearly so pleasant without you. Are you really ill?" + +"Just a little, my old cousin--here," she said, playfully sweeping her +hand across her heart. + +"Ah, mother should have asked somebody else to be present tonight, +perhaps?" + +"O no, indeed. I merely stepped down, Clym, to ask you--" Here he +followed her through the doorway into the private room beyond, and, +the door closing, Eustacia and the mummer who sat next to her, the +only other witness of the performance, saw and heard no more. + +The heat flew to Eustacia's head and cheeks. She instantly guessed +that Clym, having been home only these two or three days, had not as +yet been made acquainted with Thomasin's painful situation with regard +to Wildeve; and seeing her living there just as she had been living +before he left home, he naturally suspected nothing. Eustacia felt +a wild jealousy of Thomasin on the instant. Though Thomasin might +possibly have tender sentiments towards another man as yet, how long +could they be expected to last when she was shut up here with this +interesting and travelled cousin of hers? There was no knowing what +affection might not soon break out between the two, so constantly +in each other's society, and not a distracting object near. Clym's +boyish love for her might have languished, but it might easily be +revived again. + +Eustacia was nettled by her own contrivances. What a sheer waste of +herself to be dressed thus while another was shining to advantage! Had +she known the full effect of the encounter she would have moved heaven +and earth to get here in a natural manner. The power of her face all +lost, the charm of her emotions all disguised, the fascinations of her +coquetry denied existence, nothing but a voice left to her; she had a +sense of the doom of Echo. "Nobody here respects me," she said. She +had overlooked the fact that, in coming as a boy among other boys, she +would be treated as a boy. The slight, though of her own causing, and +self-explanatory, she was unable to dismiss as unwittingly shown, so +sensitive had the situation made her. + +Women have done much for themselves in histrionic dress. To look far +below those who, like a certain fair personator of Polly Peachum early +in the last century, and another of Lydia Languish early in this, have +won not only love but ducal coronets into the bargain, whole shoals of +them have reached to the initial satisfaction of getting love almost +whence they would. But the Turkish Knight was denied even the chance +of achieving this by the fluttering ribbons which she dared not brush +aside. + +Yeobright returned to the room without his cousin. When within two or +three feet of Eustacia he stopped, as if again arrested by a thought. +He was gazing at her. She looked another way, disconcerted, and +wondered how long this purgatory was to last. After lingering a few +seconds he passed on again. + +To court their own discomfiture by love is a common instinct with +certain perfervid women. Conflicting sensations of love, fear, and +shame reduced Eustacia to a state of the utmost uneasiness. To escape +was her great and immediate desire. The other mummers appeared to be +in no hurry to leave; and murmuring to the lad who sat next to her +that she preferred waiting for them outside the house, she moved to +the door as imperceptibly as possible, opened it, and slipped out. + +The calm, lone scene reassured her. She went forward to the palings +and leant over them, looking at the moon. She had stood thus but a +little time when the door again opened. Expecting to see the remainder +of the band Eustacia turned; but no--Clym Yeobright came out as softly +as she had done, and closed the door behind him. + +He advanced and stood beside her. "I have an odd opinion," he said, +"and should like to ask you a question. Are you a woman--or am I +wrong?" + +"I am a woman." + +His eyes lingered on her with great interest. "Do girls often play as +mummers now? They never used to." + +"They don't now." + +"Why did you?" + +"To get excitement and shake off depression," she said in low tones. + +"What depressed you?" + +"Life." + +"That's a cause of depression a good many have to put up with." + +"Yes." + +A long silence. "And do you find excitement?" asked Clym at last. + +"At this moment, perhaps." + +"Then you are vexed at being discovered?" + +"Yes; though I thought I might be." + +"I would gladly have asked you to our party had I known you wished to +come. Have I ever been acquainted with you in my youth?" + +"Never." + +"Won't you come in again, and stay as long as you like?" + +"No. I wish not to be further recognized." + +"Well, you are safe with me." After remaining in thought a minute he +added gently, "I will not intrude upon you longer. It is a strange +way of meeting, and I will not ask why I find a cultivated woman +playing such a part as this." + +She did not volunteer the reason which he seemed to hope for, and +he wished her good night, going thence round to the back of the +house, where he walked up and down by himself for some time before +re-entering. + +Eustacia, warmed with an inner fire, could not wait for her companions +after this. She flung back the ribbons from her face, opened the +gate, and at once struck into the heath. She did not hasten along. +Her grandfather was in bed at this hour, for she so frequently walked +upon the hills on moonlight nights that he took no notice of her +comings and goings, and, enjoying himself in his own way, left her to +do likewise. A more important subject than that of getting indoors +now engrossed her. Yeobright, if he had the least curiosity, would +infallibly discover her name. What then? She first felt a sort of +exultation at the way in which the adventure had terminated, even +though at moments between her exultations she was abashed and +blushful. Then this consideration recurred to chill her: What was +the use of her exploit? She was at present a total stranger to the +Yeobright family. The unreasonable nimbus of romance with which she +had encircled that man might be her misery. How could she allow +herself to become so infatuated with a stranger? And to fill the +cup of her sorrow there would be Thomasin, living day after day in +inflammable proximity to him; for she had just learnt that, contrary +to her first belief, he was going to stay at home some considerable +time. + + + +She reached the wicket at Mistover Knap, but before opening it she +turned and faced the heath once more. The form of Rainbarrow stood +above the hills, and the moon stood above Rainbarrow. The air was +charged with silence and frost. The scene reminded Eustacia of a +circumstance which till that moment she had totally forgotten. She +had promised to meet Wildeve by the Barrow this very night at eight, +to give a final answer to his pleading for an elopement. + +She herself had fixed the evening and the hour. He had probably come +to the spot, waited there in the cold, and been greatly disappointed. + +"Well, so much the better: it did not hurt him," she said serenely. +Wildeve had at present the rayless outline of the sun through smoked +glass, and she could say such things as that with the greatest +facility. + +She remained deeply pondering; and Thomasin's winning manner towards +her cousin arose again upon Eustacia's mind. + +"O that she had been married to Damon before this!" she said. "And +she would if it hadn't been for me! If I had only known--if I had only +known!" + +Eustacia once more lifted her deep stormy eyes to the moonlight, and, +sighing that tragic sigh of hers which was so much like a shudder, +entered the shadow of the roof. She threw off her trappings in the +out-house, rolled them up, and went indoors to her chamber. + + + + +VII + +A Coalition between Beauty and Oddness + + +The old captain's prevailing indifference to his granddaughter's +movements left her free as a bird to follow her own courses; but it so +happened that he did take upon himself the next morning to ask her why +she had walked out so late. + +"Only in search of events, grandfather," she said, looking out of the +window with that drowsy latency of manner which discovered so much +force behind it whenever the trigger was pressed. + +"Search of events--one would think you were one of the bucks I knew at +one-and-twenty." + +"It is so lonely here." + +"So much the better. If I were living in a town my whole time would +be taken up in looking after you. I fully expected you would have +been home when I returned from the Woman." + +"I won't conceal what I did. I wanted an adventure, and I went with +the mummers. I played the part of the Turkish Knight." + +"No, never? Ha, ha! Good gad! I didn't expect it of you, Eustacia." + +"It was my first performance, and it certainly will be my last. Now I +have told you--and remember it is a secret." + +"Of course. But, Eustacia, you never did--ha! ha! Dammy, how 'twould +have pleased me forty years ago! But remember, no more of it, my girl. +You may walk on the heath night or day, as you choose, so that you +don't bother me; but no figuring in breeches again." + +"You need have no fear for me, grandpapa." + +Here the conversation ceased, Eustacia's moral training never +exceeding in severity a dialogue of this sort, which, if it ever +became profitable to good works, would be a result not dear at the +price. But her thoughts soon strayed far from her own personality; +and, full of a passionate and indescribable solicitude for one to whom +she was not even a name, she went forth into the amplitude of tanned +wild around her, restless as Ahasuerus the Jew. She was about half a +mile from her residence when she beheld a sinister redness arising +from a ravine a little way in advance--dull and lurid like a flame in +sunlight and she guessed it to signify Diggory Venn. + +When the farmers who had wished to buy in a new stock of reddle +during the last month had inquired where Venn was to be found, people +replied, "On Egdon Heath." Day after day the answer was the same. +Now, since Egdon was populated with heath-croppers and furze-cutters +rather than with sheep and shepherds, and the downs where most of the +latter were to be found lay some to the north, some to the west of +Egdon, his reason for camping about there like Israel in Zin was not +apparent. The position was central and occasionally desirable. But +the sale of reddle was not Diggory's primary object in remaining on +the heath, particularly at so late a period of the year, when most +travellers of his class had gone into winter quarters. + +Eustacia looked at the lonely man. Wildeve had told her at their last +meeting that Venn had been thrust forward by Mrs. Yeobright as one +ready and anxious to take his place as Thomasin's betrothed. His +figure was perfect, his face young and well outlined, his eyes bright, +his intelligence keen, and his position one which he could readily +better if he chose. But in spite of possibilities it was not likely +that Thomasin would accept this Ishmaelitish creature while she had a +cousin like Yeobright at her elbow, and Wildeve at the same time not +absolutely indifferent. Eustacia was not long in guessing that poor +Mrs. Yeobright, in her anxiety for her niece's future, had mentioned +this lover to stimulate the zeal of the other. Eustacia was on the +side of the Yeobrights now, and entered into the spirit of the aunt's +desire. + +"Good morning, miss," said the reddleman, taking off his cap of +hareskin, and apparently bearing her no ill-will from recollection of +their last meeting. + +"Good morning, reddleman," she said, hardly troubling to lift her +heavily shaded eyes to his. "I did not know you were so near. Is +your van here too?" + +Venn moved his elbow towards a hollow in which a dense brake of +purple-stemmed brambles had grown to such vast dimensions as almost +to form a dell. Brambles, though churlish when handled, are kindly +shelter in early winter, being the latest of the deciduous bushes +to lose their leaves. The roof and chimney of Venn's caravan showed +behind the tracery and tangles of the brake. + +"You remain near this part?" she asked with more interest. + +"Yes, I have business here." + +"Not altogether the selling of reddle?" + +"It has nothing to do with that." + +"It has to do with Miss Yeobright?" + +Her face seemed to ask for an armed peace, and he therefore said +frankly, "Yes, miss; it is on account of her." + +"On account of your approaching marriage with her?" + +Venn flushed through his stain. "Don't make sport of me, Miss Vye," +he said. + +"It isn't true?" + +"Certainly not." + +She was thus convinced that the reddleman was a mere _pis aller_ in +Mrs. Yeobright's mind; one, moreover, who had not even been informed +of his promotion to that lowly standing. "It was a mere notion of +mine," she said quietly; and was about to pass by without further +speech, when, looking round to the right, she saw a painfully +well-known figure serpentining upwards by one of the little paths +which led to the top where she stood. Owing to the necessary windings +of his course his back was at present towards them. She glanced +quickly round; to escape that man there was only one way. Turning to +Venn, she said, "Would you allow me to rest a few minutes in your van? +The banks are damp for sitting on." + +"Certainly, miss; I'll make a place for you." + +She followed him behind the dell of brambles to his wheeled dwelling, +into which Venn mounted, placing the three-legged stool just within +the door. + +"That is the best I can do for you," he said, stepping down and +retiring to the path, where he resumed the smoking of his pipe as he +walked up and down. + +Eustacia bounded into the vehicle and sat on the stool, ensconced from +view on the side towards the trackway. Soon she heard the brushing +of other feet than the reddleman's, a not very friendly "Good day" +uttered by two men in passing each other, and then the dwindling +of the footfall of one of them in a direction onwards. Eustacia +stretched her neck forward till she caught a glimpse of a receding +back and shoulders; and she felt a wretched twinge of misery, she knew +not why. It was the sickening feeling which, if the changed heart has +any generosity at all in its composition, accompanies the sudden sight +of a once-loved one who is beloved no more. + +When Eustacia descended to proceed on her way the reddleman came near. +"That was Mr. Wildeve who passed, miss," he said slowly, and expressed +by his face that he expected her to feel vexed at having been sitting +unseen. + +"Yes, I saw him coming up the hill," replied Eustacia. "Why should you +tell me that?" It was a bold question, considering the reddleman's +knowledge of her past love; but her undemonstrative manner had power +to repress the opinions of those she treated as remote from her. + +"I am glad to hear that you can ask it," said the reddleman bluntly. +"And, now I think of it, it agrees with what I saw last night." + +"Ah--what was that?" Eustacia wished to leave him, but wished to know. + +"Mr. Wildeve stayed at Rainbarrow a long time waiting for a lady who +didn't come." + +"You waited too, it seems?" + +"Yes, I always do. I was glad to see him disappointed. He will be +there again tonight." + +"To be again disappointed. The truth is, reddleman, that that lady, +so far from wishing to stand in the way of Thomasin's marriage with +Mr. Wildeve, would be very glad to promote it." + +Venn felt much astonishment at this avowal, though he did not show it +clearly; that exhibition may greet remarks which are one remove from +expectation, but it is usually withheld in complicated cases of two +removes and upwards. "Indeed, miss," he replied. + +"How do you know that Mr. Wildeve will come to Rainbarrow again +tonight?" she asked. + +"I heard him say to himself that he would. He's in a regular temper." + +Eustacia looked for a moment what she felt, and she murmured, lifting +her deep dark eyes anxiously to his, "I wish I knew what to do. I +don't want to be uncivil to him; but I don't wish to see him again; +and I have some few little things to return to him." + +"If you choose to send 'em by me, miss, and a note to tell him that +you wish to say no more to him, I'll take it for you quite privately. +That would be the most straightforward way of letting him know your +mind." + +"Very well," said Eustacia. "Come towards my house, and I will bring +it out to you." + +She went on, and as the path was an infinitely small parting in the +shaggy locks of the heath, the reddleman followed exactly in her +trail. She saw from a distance that the captain was on the bank +sweeping the horizon with his telescope; and bidding Venn to wait +where he stood she entered the house alone. + +In ten minutes she returned with a parcel and a note, and said, in +placing them in his hand, "Why are you so ready to take these for me?" + +"Can you ask that?" + +"I suppose you think to serve Thomasin in some way by it. Are you as +anxious as ever to help on her marriage?" + +Venn was a little moved. "I would sooner have married her myself," he +said in a low voice. "But what I feel is that if she cannot be happy +without him I will do my duty in helping her to get him, as a man +ought." + +Eustacia looked curiously at the singular man who spoke thus. What +a strange sort of love, to be entirely free from that quality of +selfishness which is frequently the chief constituent of the passion, +and sometimes its only one! The reddleman's disinterestedness was so +well deserving of respect that it overshot respect by being barely +comprehended; and she almost thought it absurd. + +"Then we are both of one mind at last," she said. + +"Yes," replied Venn gloomily. "But if you would tell me, miss, why +you take such an interest in her, I should be easier. It is so sudden +and strange." + +Eustacia appeared at a loss. "I cannot tell you that, reddleman," she +said coldly. + +Venn said no more. He pocketed the letter, and, bowing to Eustacia, +went away. + +Rainbarrow had again become blended with night when Wildeve ascended +the long acclivity at its base. On his reaching the top a shape grew +up from the earth immediately behind him. It was that of Eustacia's +emissary. He slapped Wildeve on the shoulder. The feverish young +innkeeper and ex-engineer started like Satan at the touch of +Ithuriel's spear. + +"The meeting is always at eight o'clock, at this place," said Venn, +"and here we are--we three." + +"We three?" said Wildeve, looking quickly round. + +"Yes; you, and I, and she. This is she." He held up the letter and +parcel. + +Wildeve took them wonderingly. "I don't quite see what this means," +he said. "How do you come here? There must be some mistake." + +"It will be cleared from your mind when you have read the letter. +Lanterns for one." The reddleman struck a light, kindled an inch of +tallow-candle which he had brought, and sheltered it with his cap. + +"Who are you?" said Wildeve, discerning by the candlelight an +obscure rubicundity of person in his companion. "You are the +reddleman I saw on the hill this morning--why, you are the man +who--" + +"Please read the letter." + +"If you had come from the other one I shouldn't have been surprised," +murmured Wildeve as he opened the letter and read. His face grew +serious. + + + TO MR. WILDEVE. + + After some thought I have decided once and for all that we + must hold no further communication. The more I consider the + matter the more I am convinced that there must be an end + to our acquaintance. Had you been uniformly faithful to me + throughout these two years you might now have some ground + for accusing me of heartlessness; but if you calmly consider + what I bore during the period of your desertion, and how I + passively put up with your courtship of another without once + interfering, you will, I think, own that I have a right to + consult my own feelings when you come back to me again. That + these are not what they were towards you may, perhaps, be a + fault in me, but it is one which you can scarcely reproach + me for when you remember how you left me for Thomasin. + + The little articles you gave me in the early part of our + friendship are returned by the bearer of this letter. They + should rightly have been sent back when I first heard of + your engagement to her. + + EUSTACIA + + +By the time that Wildeve reached her name the blankness with which he +had read the first half of the letter intensified to mortification. +"I am made a great fool of, one way and another," he said pettishly. +"Do you know what is in this letter?" + +The reddleman hummed a tune. + +"Can't you answer me?" asked Wildeve warmly. + +"Ru-um-tum-tum," sang the reddleman. + +Wildeve stood looking on the ground beside Venn's feet, till he +allowed his eyes to travel upwards over Diggory's form, as illuminated +by the candle, to his head and face. "Ha-ha! Well, I suppose I +deserve it, considering how I have played with them both," he said at +last, as much to himself as to Venn. "But of all the odd things that +ever I knew, the oddest is that you should so run counter to your own +interests as to bring this to me." + +"My interests?" + +"Certainly. 'Twas your interest not to do anything which would send me +courting Thomasin again, now she has accepted you--or something like +it. Mrs. Yeobright says you are to marry her. 'Tisn't true, then?" + +"Good Lord! I heard of this before, but didn't believe it. When did +she say so?" + +Wildeve began humming as the reddleman had done. + +"I don't believe it now," cried Venn. + +"Ru-um-tum-tum," sang Wildeve. + +"O Lord--how we can imitate!" said Venn contemptuously. "I'll have +this out. I'll go straight to her." + +Diggory withdrew with an emphatic step, Wildeve's eye passing +over his form in withering derision, as if he were no more than a +heath-cropper. When the reddleman's figure could no longer be seen, +Wildeve himself descended and plunged into the rayless hollow of the +vale. + +To lose the two women--he who had been the well-beloved of both--was +too ironical an issue to be endured. He could only decently save +himself by Thomasin; and once he became her husband, Eustacia's +repentance, he thought, would set in for a long and bitter term. It +was no wonder that Wildeve, ignorant of the new man at the back of the +scene, should have supposed Eustacia to be playing a part. To believe +that the letter was not the result of some momentary pique, to infer +that she really gave him up to Thomasin, would have required previous +knowledge of her transfiguration by that man's influence. Who was to +know that she had grown generous in the greediness of a new passion, +that in coveting one cousin she was dealing liberally with another, +that in her eagerness to appropriate she gave way? + +Full of this resolve to marry in haste, and wring the heart of the +proud girl, Wildeve went his way. + +Meanwhile Diggory Venn had returned to his van, where he stood looking +thoughtfully into the stove. A new vista was opened up to him. +But, however promising Mrs. Yeobright's views of him might be as a +candidate for her niece's hand, one condition was indispensable to the +favour of Thomasin herself, and that was a renunciation of his present +wild mode of life. In this he saw little difficulty. + +He could not afford to wait till the next day before seeing Thomasin +and detailing his plan. He speedily plunged himself into toilet +operations, pulled a suit of cloth clothes from a box, and in about +twenty minutes stood before the van-lantern as a reddleman in nothing +but his face, the vermilion shades of which were not to be removed in +a day. Closing the door and fastening it with a padlock, Venn set off +towards Blooms-End. + +He had reached the white palings and laid his hand upon the gate when +the door of the house opened, and quickly closed again. A female +form had glided in. At the same time a man, who had seemingly been +standing with the woman in the porch, came forward from the house till +he was face to face with Venn. It was Wildeve again. + +"Man alive, you've been quick at it," said Diggory sarcastically. + +"And you slow, as you will find," said Wildeve. "And," lowering his +voice, "you may as well go back again now. I've claimed her, and got +her. Good night, reddleman!" Thereupon Wildeve walked away. + +Venn's heart sank within him, though it had not risen unduly high. +He stood leaning over the palings in an indecisive mood for nearly +a quarter of an hour. Then he went up the garden path, knocked, and +asked for Mrs. Yeobright. + +Instead of requesting him to enter she came to the porch. A discourse +was carried on between them in low measured tones for the space of +ten minutes or more. At the end of the time Mrs. Yeobright went in, +and Venn sadly retraced his steps into the heath. When he had again +regained his van he lit the lantern, and with an apathetic face at +once began to pull off his best clothes, till in the course of a few +minutes he reappeared as the confirmed and irretrievable reddleman +that he had seemed before. + + + + +VIII + +Firmness Is Discovered in a Gentle Heart + + +On that evening the interior of Blooms-End, though cosy and +comfortable, had been rather silent. Clym Yeobright was not at home. +Since the Christmas party he had gone on a few days' visit to a friend +about ten miles off. + +The shadowy form seen by Venn to part from Wildeve in the porch, and +quickly withdraw into the house, was Thomasin's. On entering she threw +down a cloak which had been carelessly wrapped round her, and came +forward to the light, where Mrs. Yeobright sat at her work-table, +drawn up within the settle, so that part of it projected into the +chimney-corner. + +"I don't like your going out after dark alone, Tamsin," said her aunt +quietly, without looking up from her work. + +"I have only been just outside the door." + +"Well?" inquired Mrs. Yeobright, struck by a change in the tone of +Thomasin's voice, and observing her. Thomasin's cheek was flushed to +a pitch far beyond that which it had reached before her troubles, and +her eyes glittered. + +"It was HE who knocked," she said. + +"I thought as much." + +"He wishes the marriage to be at once." + +"Indeed! What--is he anxious?" Mrs. Yeobright directed a searching +look upon her niece. "Why did not Mr. Wildeve come in?" + +"He did not wish to. You are not friends with him, he says. He would +like the wedding to be the day after tomorrow, quite privately; at the +church of his parish--not at ours." + +"Oh! And what did you say?" + +"I agreed to it," Thomasin answered firmly. "I am a practical woman +now. I don't believe in hearts at all. I would marry him under any +circumstances since--since Clym's letter." + +A letter was lying on Mrs. Yeobright's work-basket, and at Thomasin's +word her aunt reopened it, and silently read for the tenth time that +day:-- + + + What is the meaning of this silly story that people are + circulating about Thomasin and Mr. Wildeve? I should call + such a scandal humiliating if there was the least chance + of its being true. How could such a gross falsehood have + arisen? It is said that one should go abroad to hear + news of home, and I appear to have done it. Of course I + contradict the tale everywhere; but it is very vexing, + and I wonder how it could have originated. It is too + ridiculous that such a girl as Thomasin could so mortify + us as to get jilted on the wedding-day. What has she done? + + +"Yes," Mrs. Yeobright said sadly, putting down the letter. "If you +think you can marry him, do so. And since Mr. Wildeve wishes it to +be unceremonious, let it be that too. I can do nothing. It is all in +your own hands now. My power over your welfare came to an end when you +left this house to go with him to Anglebury." She continued, half in +bitterness, "I may almost ask, why do you consult me in the matter at +all? If you had gone and married him without saying a word to me, I +could hardly have been angry--simply because, poor girl, you can't do +a better thing." + +"Don't say that and dishearten me." + +"You are right: I will not." + +"I do not plead for him, aunt. Human nature is weak, and I am not a +blind woman to insist that he is perfect. I did think so, but I don't +now. But I know my course, and you know that I know it. I hope for +the best." + +"And so do I, and we will both continue to," said Mrs. Yeobright, +rising and kissing her. "Then the wedding, if it comes off, will be +on the morning of the very day Clym comes home?" + +"Yes. I decided that it ought to be over before he came. After that +you can look him in the face, and so can I. Our concealments will +matter nothing." + +Mrs. Yeobright moved her head in thoughtful assent, and presently +said, "Do you wish me to give you away? I am willing to undertake +that, you know, if you wish, as I was last time. After once +forbidding the banns I think I can do no less." + +"I don't think I will ask you to come," said Thomasin reluctantly, but +with decision. "It would be unpleasant, I am almost sure. Better let +there be only strangers present, and none of my relations at all. I +would rather have it so. I do not wish to do anything which may touch +your credit, and I feel that I should be uncomfortable if you were +there, after what has passed. I am only your niece, and there is no +necessity why you should concern yourself more about me." + +"Well, he has beaten us," her aunt said. "It really seems as if he +had been playing with you in this way in revenge for my humbling him +as I did by standing up against him at first." + +"O no, aunt," murmured Thomasin. + +They said no more on the subject then. Diggory Venn's knock came soon +after; and Mrs. Yeobright, on returning from her interview with him +in the porch, carelessly observed, "Another lover has come to ask for +you." + +"No?" + +"Yes, that queer young man Venn." + +"Asks to pay his addresses to me?" + +"Yes; and I told him he was too late." + +Thomasin looked silently into the candle-flame. "Poor Diggory!" she +said, and then aroused herself to other things. + +The next day was passed in mere mechanical deeds of preparation, both +the women being anxious to immerse themselves in these to escape the +emotional aspect of the situation. Some wearing apparel and other +articles were collected anew for Thomasin, and remarks on domestic +details were frequently made, so as to obscure any inner misgivings +about her future as Wildeve's wife. + +The appointed morning came. The arrangement with Wildeve was that +he should meet her at the church to guard against any unpleasant +curiosity which might have affected them had they been seen walking +off together in the usual country way. + +Aunt and niece stood together in the bedroom where the bride was +dressing. The sun, where it could catch it, made a mirror of +Thomasin's hair, which she always wore braided. It was braided +according to a calendric system: the more important the day the more +numerous the strands in the braid. On ordinary working-days she +braided it in threes; on ordinary Sundays in fours; at May-polings, +gipsyings, and the like, she braided it in fives. Years ago she had +said that when she married she would braid it in sevens. She had +braided it in sevens today. + +"I have been thinking that I will wear my blue silk after all," she +said. "It IS my wedding day, even though there may be something +sad about the time. I mean," she added, anxious to correct any +wrong impression, "not sad in itself, but in its having had great +disappointment and trouble before it." + +Mrs. Yeobright breathed in a way which might have been called a sigh. +"I almost wish Clym had been at home," she said. "Of course you chose +the time because of his absence." + +"Partly. I have felt that I acted unfairly to him in not telling him +all; but, as it was done not to grieve him, I thought I would carry +out the plan to its end, and tell the whole story when the sky was +clear." + +"You are a practical little woman," said Mrs. Yeobright, smiling. +"I wish you and he--no, I don't wish anything. There, it is nine +o'clock," she interrupted, hearing a whizz and a dinging downstairs. + +"I told Damon I would leave at nine," said Thomasin, hastening out of +the room. + +Her aunt followed. When Thomasin was going up the little walk from +the door to the wicket-gate, Mrs. Yeobright looked reluctantly at her, +and said, "It is a shame to let you go alone." + +"It is necessary," said Thomasin. + +"At any rate," added her aunt with forced cheerfulness, "I shall call +upon you this afternoon, and bring the cake with me. If Clym has +returned by that time he will perhaps come too. I wish to show Mr. +Wildeve that I bear him no ill-will. Let the past be forgotten. Well, +God bless you! There, I don't believe in old superstitions, but I'll +do it." She threw a slipper at the retreating figure of the girl, who +turned, smiled, and went on again. + +A few steps further, and she looked back. "Did you call me, aunt?" +she tremulously inquired. "Good-bye!" + +Moved by an uncontrollable feeling as she looked upon Mrs. Yeobright's +worn, wet face, she ran back, when her aunt came forward, and they met +again. "O--Tamsie," said the elder, weeping, "I don't like to let you +go." + +"I--I--am--" Thomasin began, giving way likewise. But, quelling her +grief, she said "Good-bye!" again and went on. + +Then Mrs. Yeobright saw a little figure wending its way between +the scratching furze-bushes, and diminishing far up the valley--a +pale-blue spot in a vast field of neutral brown, solitary and +undefended except by the power of her own hope. + +But the worst feature in the case was one which did not appear in the +landscape; it was the man. + +The hour chosen for the ceremony by Thomasin and Wildeve had been so +timed as to enable her to escape the awkwardness of meeting her cousin +Clym, who was returning the same morning. To own to the partial truth +of what he had heard would be distressing as long as the humiliating +position resulting from the event was unimproved. It was only after a +second and successful journey to the altar that she could lift up her +head and prove the failure of the first attempt a pure accident. + +She had not been gone from Blooms-End more than half an hour when +Yeobright came by the meads from the other direction and entered the +house. + +"I had an early breakfast," he said to his mother after greeting her. +"Now I could eat a little more." + +They sat down to the repeated meal, and he went on in a low, anxious +voice, apparently imagining that Thomasin had not yet come downstairs, +"What's this I have heard about Thomasin and Mr. Wildeve?" + +"It is true in many points," said Mrs. Yeobright quietly; "but it is +all right now, I hope." She looked at the clock. + +"True?" + +"Thomasin is gone to him today." + +Clym pushed away his breakfast. "Then there is a scandal of some +sort, and that's what's the matter with Thomasin. Was it this that +made her ill?" + +"Yes. Not a scandal: a misfortune. I will tell you all about it, +Clym. You must not be angry, but you must listen, and you'll find +that what we have done has been done for the best." + +She then told him the circumstances. All that he had known of the +affair before he returned from Paris was that there had existed an +attachment between Thomasin and Wildeve, which his mother had at first +discountenanced, but had since, owing to the arguments of Thomasin, +looked upon in a little more favourable light. When she, therefore, +proceeded to explain all he was greatly surprised and troubled. + +"And she determined that the wedding should be over before you came +back," said Mrs. Yeobright, "that there might be no chance of her +meeting you, and having a very painful time of it. That's why she has +gone to him; they have arranged to be married this morning." + +"But I can't understand it," said Yeobright, rising. "'Tis so unlike +her. I can see why you did not write to me after her unfortunate +return home. But why didn't you let me know when the wedding was +going to be--the first time?" + +"Well, I felt vexed with her just then. She seemed to me to be +obstinate; and when I found that you were nothing in her mind I vowed +that she should be nothing in yours. I felt that she was only my +niece after all; I told her she might marry, but that I should take no +interest in it, and should not bother you about it either." + +"It wouldn't have been bothering me. Mother, you did wrong." + +"I thought it might disturb you in your business, and that you might +throw up your situation, or injure your prospects in some way because +of it, so I said nothing. Of course, if they had married at that time +in a proper manner, I should have told you at once." + +"Tamsin actually being married while we are sitting here!" + +"Yes. Unless some accident happens again, as it did the first time. +It may, considering he's the same man." + +"Yes, and I believe it will. Was it right to let her go? Suppose +Wildeve is really a bad fellow?" + +"Then he won't come, and she'll come home again." + +"You should have looked more into it." + +"It is useless to say that," his mother answered with an impatient +look of sorrow. "You don't know how bad it has been here with us all +these weeks, Clym. You don't know what a mortification anything of +that sort is to a woman. You don't know the sleepless nights we've +had in this house, and the almost bitter words that have passed +between us since that Fifth of November. I hope never to pass seven +such weeks again. Tamsin has not gone outside the door, and I have +been ashamed to look anybody in the face; and now you blame me for +letting her do the only thing that can be done to set that trouble +straight." + +"No," he said slowly. "Upon the whole I don't blame you. But just +consider how sudden it seems to me. Here was I, knowing nothing; and +then I am told all at once that Tamsie is gone to be married. Well, +I suppose there was nothing better to do. Do you know, mother," he +continued after a moment or two, looking suddenly interested in his +own past history, "I once thought of Tamsin as a sweetheart? Yes, I +did. How odd boys are! And when I came home and saw her this time she +seemed so much more affectionate than usual, that I was quite reminded +of those days, particularly on the night of the party, when she was +unwell. We had the party just the same--was not that rather cruel to +her?" + +"It made no difference. I had arranged to give one, and it was not +worth while to make more gloom than necessary. To begin by shutting +ourselves up and telling you of Tamsin's misfortunes would have been +a poor sort of welcome." + +Clym remained thinking. "I almost wish you had not had that party," +he said; "and for other reasons. But I will tell you in a day or two. +We must think of Tamsin now." + +They lapsed into silence. "I'll tell you what," said Yeobright again, +in a tone which showed some slumbering feeling still. "I don't think +it kind to Tamsin to let her be married like this, and neither of +us there to keep up her spirits or care a bit about her. She hasn't +disgraced herself, or done anything to deserve that. It is bad enough +that the wedding should be so hurried and unceremonious, without our +keeping away from it in addition. Upon my soul, 'tis almost a shame. +I'll go." + +"It is over by this time," said his mother with a sigh; "unless they +were late, or he--" + +"Then I shall be soon enough to see them come out. I don't quite like +your keeping me in ignorance, mother, after all. Really, I half hope +he has failed to meet her!" + +"And ruined her character?" + +"Nonsense: that wouldn't ruin Thomasin." + +He took up his hat and hastily left the house. Mrs. Yeobright looked +rather unhappy, and sat still, deep in thought. But she was not long +left alone. A few minutes later Clym came back again, and in his +company came Diggory Venn. + +"I find there isn't time for me to get there," said Clym. + +"Is she married?" Mrs. Yeobright inquired, turning to the reddleman +a face in which a strange strife of wishes, for and against, was +apparent. + +Venn bowed. "She is, ma'am." + +"How strange it sounds," murmured Clym. + +"And he didn't disappoint her this time?" said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"He did not. And there is now no slight on her name. I was hastening +ath'art to tell you at once, as I saw you were not there." + +"How came you to be there? How did you know it?" she asked. + +"I have been in that neighbourhood for some time, and I saw them go +in," said the reddleman. "Wildeve came up to the door, punctual as +the clock. I didn't expect it of him." He did not add, as he might +have added, that how he came to be in that neighbourhood was not by +accident; that, since Wildeve's resumption of his right to Thomasin, +Venn, with the thoroughness which was part of his character, had +determined to see the end of the episode. + +"Who was there?" said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Nobody hardly. I stood right out of the way, and she did not see +me." The reddleman spoke huskily, and looked into the garden. + +"Who gave her away?" + +"Miss Vye." + +"How very remarkable! Miss Vye! It is to be considered an honour, +I suppose?" + +"Who's Miss Vye?" said Clym. + +"Captain Vye's granddaughter, of Mistover Knap." + +"A proud girl from Budmouth," said Mrs. Yeobright. "One not much to +my liking. People say she's a witch, but of course that's absurd." + +The reddleman kept to himself his acquaintance with that fair +personage, and also that Eustacia was there because he went to fetch +her, in accordance with a promise he had given as soon as he learnt +that the marriage was to take place. He merely said, in continuation +of the story-- + +"I was sitting on the churchyard wall when they came up, one from one +way, the other from the other; and Miss Vye was walking thereabouts, +looking at the head-stones. As soon as they had gone in I went to +the door, feeling I should like to see it, as I knew her so well. I +pulled off my boots because they were so noisy, and went up into the +gallery. I saw then that the parson and clerk were already there." + +"How came Miss Vye to have anything to do with it, if she was only on +a walk that way?" + +"Because there was nobody else. She had gone into the church just +before me, not into the gallery. The parson looked round before +beginning, and as she was the only one near he beckoned to her, and +she went up to the rails. After that, when it came to signing the +book, she pushed up her veil and signed; and Tamsin seemed to thank +her for her kindness." The reddleman told the tale thoughtfully, +for there lingered upon his vision the changing colour of Wildeve, +when Eustacia lifted the thick veil which had concealed her from +recognition and looked calmly into his face. "And then," said Diggory +sadly, "I came away, for her history as Tamsin Yeobright was over." + +"I offered to go," said Mrs. Yeobright regretfully. "But she said it +was not necessary." + +"Well, it is no matter," said the reddleman. "The thing is done at +last as it was meant to be at first, and God send her happiness. Now +I'll wish you good morning." + +He placed his cap on his head and went out. + +From that instant of leaving Mrs. Yeobright's door, the reddleman was +seen no more in or about Egdon Heath for a space of many months. He +vanished entirely. The nook among the brambles where his van had been +standing was as vacant as ever the next morning, and scarcely a sign +remained to show that he had been there, excepting a few straws, and a +little redness on the turf, which was washed away by the next storm of +rain. + +The report that Diggory had brought of the wedding, correct as far +as it went, was deficient in one significant particular, which had +escaped him through his being at some distance back in the church. +When Thomasin was tremblingly engaged in signing her name Wildeve had +flung towards Eustacia a glance that said plainly, "I have punished +you now." She had replied in a low tone--and he little thought how +truly--"You mistake; it gives me sincerest pleasure to see her your +wife today." + + + + +BOOK THIRD +THE FASCINATION + + +I + +"My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is" + + +In Clym Yeobright's face could be dimly seen the typical countenance +of the future. Should there be a classic period to art hereafter, its +Pheidias may produce such faces. The view of life as a thing to be +put up with, replacing that zest for existence which was so intense +in early civilizations, must ultimately enter so thoroughly into the +constitution of the advanced races that its facial expression will +become accepted as a new artistic departure. People already feel that +a man who lives without disturbing a curve of feature, or setting +a mark of mental concern anywhere upon himself, is too far removed +from modern perceptiveness to be a modern type. Physically beautiful +men--the glory of the race when it was young--are almost an +anachronism now; and we may wonder whether, at some time or other, +physically beautiful women may not be an anachronism likewise. + +The truth seems to be that a long line of disillusive centuries has +permanently displaced the Hellenic idea of life, or whatever it may +be called. What the Greeks only suspected we know well; what their +Aeschylus imagined our nursery children feel. That old-fashioned +revelling in the general situation grows less and less possible as we +uncover the defects of natural laws, and see the quandary that man is +in by their operation. + +The lineaments which will get embodied in ideals based upon this +new recognition will probably be akin to those of Yeobright. The +observer's eye was arrested, not by his face as a picture, but by +his face as a page; not by what it was, but by what it recorded. +His features were attractive in the light of symbols, as sounds +intrinsically common become attractive in language, and as shapes +intrinsically simple become interesting in writing. + +He had been a lad of whom something was expected. Beyond this all had +been chaos. That he would be successful in an original way, or that +he would go to the dogs in an original way, seemed equally probable. +The only absolute certainty about him was that he would not stand +still in the circumstances amid which he was born. + +Hence, when his name was casually mentioned by neighbouring yeomen, +the listener said, "Ah, Clym Yeobright: what is he doing now?" When +the instinctive question about a person is, What is he doing? it is +felt that he will be found to be, like most of us, doing nothing in +particular. There is an indefinite sense that he must be invading +some region of singularity, good or bad. The devout hope is that he +is doing well. The secret faith is that he is making a mess of it. +Half a dozen comfortable marketmen, who were habitual callers at the +Quiet Woman as they passed by in their carts, were partial to the +topic. In fact, though they were not Egdon men, they could hardly +avoid it while they sucked their long clay tubes and regarded the +heath through the window. Clym had been so inwoven with the heath in +his boyhood that hardly anybody could look upon it without thinking of +him. So the subject recurred: if he were making a fortune and a name, +so much the better for him; if he were making a tragical figure in the +world, so much the better for a narrative. + +The fact was that Yeobright's fame had spread to an awkward extent +before he left home. "It is bad when your fame outruns your means," +said the Spanish Jesuit Gracian. At the age of six he had asked a +Scripture riddle: "Who was the first man known to wear breeches?" +and applause had resounded from the very verge of the heath. At +seven he painted the Battle of Waterloo with tiger-lily pollen and +black-currant juice, in the absence of water-colours. By the time +he reached twelve he had in this manner been heard of as artist +and scholar for at least two miles round. An individual whose fame +spreads three or four thousand yards in the time taken by the fame +of others similarly situated to travel six or eight hundred, must of +necessity have something in him. Possibly Clym's fame, like Homer's, +owed something to the accidents of his situation; nevertheless famous +he was. + +He grew up and was helped out in life. That waggery of fate which +started Clive as a writing clerk, Gay as a linen-draper, Keats as a +surgeon, and a thousand others in a thousand other odd ways, banished +the wild and ascetic heath lad to a trade whose sole concern was with +the especial symbols of self-indulgence and vainglory. + +The details of this choice of a business for him it is not necessary +to give. At the death of his father a neighbouring gentleman had +kindly undertaken to give the boy a start, and this assumed the form +of sending him to Budmouth. Yeobright did not wish to go there, but +it was the only feasible opening. Thence he went to London; and +thence, shortly after, to Paris, where he had remained till now. + +Something being expected of him, he had not been at home many days +before a great curiosity as to why he stayed on so long began to +arise in the heath. The natural term of a holiday had passed, yet +he still remained. On the Sunday morning following the week of +Thomasin's marriage a discussion on this subject was in progress at +a hair-cutting before Fairway's house. Here the local barbering was +always done at this hour on this day, to be followed by the great +Sunday wash of the inhabitants at noon, which in its turn was followed +by the great Sunday dressing an hour later. On Egdon Heath Sunday +proper did not begin till dinner-time, and even then it was a somewhat +battered specimen of the day. + +These Sunday-morning hair-cuttings were performed by Fairway; the +victim sitting on a chopping-block in front of the house, without a +coat, and the neighbours gossiping around, idly observing the locks +of hair as they rose upon the wind after the snip, and flew away out +of sight to the four quarters of the heavens. Summer and winter the +scene was the same, unless the wind were more than usually blusterous, +when the stool was shifted a few feet round the corner. To complain +of cold in sitting out of doors, hatless and coatless, while Fairway +told true stories between the cuts of the scissors, would have been +to pronounce yourself no man at once. To flinch, exclaim, or move a +muscle of the face at the small stabs under the ear received from +those instruments, or at scarifications of the neck by the comb, would +have been thought a gross breach of good manners, considering that +Fairway did it all for nothing. A bleeding about the poll on Sunday +afternoons was amply accounted for by the explanation. "I have had my +hair cut, you know." + +The conversation on Yeobright had been started by a distant view of +the young man rambling leisurely across the heath before them. + +"A man who is doing well elsewhere wouldn't bide here two or three +weeks for nothing," said Fairway. "He's got some project in's +head--depend upon that." + +"Well, 'a can't keep a diment shop here," said Sam. + +"I don't see why he should have had them two heavy boxes home if he +had not been going to bide; and what there is for him to do here the +Lord in heaven knows." + +Before many more surmises could be indulged in Yeobright had come +near; and seeing the hair-cutting group he turned aside to join them. +Marching up, and looking critically at their faces for a moment, he +said, without introduction, "Now, folks, let me guess what you have +been talking about." + +"Ay, sure, if you will," said Sam. + +"About me." + +"Now, it is a thing I shouldn't have dreamed of doing, otherwise," +said Fairway in a tone of integrity; "but since you have named it, +Master Yeobright, I'll own that we was talking about 'ee. We were +wondering what could keep you home here mollyhorning about when you +have made such a world-wide name for yourself in the nick-nack +trade--now, that's the truth o't." + +"I'll tell you," said Yeobright, with unexpected earnestness. "I am +not sorry to have the opportunity. I've come home because, all things +considered, I can be a trifle less useless here than anywhere else. +But I have only lately found this out. When I first got away from +home I thought this place was not worth troubling about. I thought +our life here was contemptible. To oil your boots instead of blacking +them, to dust your coat with a switch instead of a brush: was there +ever anything more ridiculous? I said." + +"So 'tis; so 'tis!" + +"No, no--you are wrong; it isn't." + +"Beg your pardon, we thought that was your maning?" + +"Well, as my views changed my course became very depressing. I found +that I was trying to be like people who had hardly anything in common +with myself. I was endeavouring to put off one sort of life for +another sort of life, which was not better than the life I had known +before. It was simply different." + +"True; a sight different," said Fairway. + +"Yes, Paris must be a taking place," said Humphrey. "Grand +shop-winders, trumpets, and drums; and here be we out of doors in all +winds and weathers--" + +"But you mistake me," pleaded Clym. "All this was very depressing. +But not so depressing as something I next perceived--that my business +was the idlest, vainest, most effeminate business that ever a man +could be put to. That decided me: I would give it up and try to +follow some rational occupation among the people I knew best, and +to whom I could be of most use. I have come home; and this is how I +mean to carry out my plan. I shall keep a school as near to Egdon as +possible, so as to be able to walk over here and have a night-school +in my mother's house. But I must study a little at first, to get +properly qualified. Now, neighbours, I must go." + +And Clym resumed his walk across the heath. + +"He'll never carry it out in the world," said Fairway. "In a few weeks +he'll learn to see things otherwise." + +"'Tis good-hearted of the young man," said another. "But, for my +part, I think he had better mind his business." + + + + +II + +The New Course Causes Disappointment + + +Yeobright loved his kind. He had a conviction that the want of most +men was knowledge of a sort which brings wisdom rather than affluence. +He wished to raise the class at the expense of individuals rather than +individuals at the expense of the class. What was more, he was ready +at once to be the first unit sacrificed. + +In passing from the bucolic to the intellectual life the intermediate +stages are usually two at least, frequently many more; and one of +those stages is almost sure to be worldly advance. We can hardly +imagine bucolic placidity quickening to intellectual aims without +imagining social aims as the transitional phase. Yeobright's local +peculiarity was that in striving at high thinking he still cleaved +to plain living--nay, wild and meagre living in many respects, and +brotherliness with clowns. + +He was a John the Baptist who took ennoblement rather than repentance +for his text. Mentally he was in a provincial future, that is, he was +in many points abreast with the central town thinkers of his date. +Much of this development he may have owed to his studious life in +Paris, where he had become acquainted with ethical systems popular at +the time. + +In consequence of this relatively advanced position, Yeobright might +have been called unfortunate. The rural world was not ripe for him. +A man should be only partially before his time: to be completely to +the vanward in aspirations is fatal to fame. Had Philip's warlike son +been intellectually so far ahead as to have attempted civilization +without bloodshed, he would have been twice the godlike hero that he +seemed, but nobody would have heard of an Alexander. + +In the interests of renown the forwardness should lie chiefly in the +capacity to handle things. Successful propagandists have succeeded +because the doctrine they bring into form is that which their +listeners have for some time felt without being able to shape. A man +who advocates aesthetic effort and deprecates social effort is only +likely to be understood by a class to which social effort has become a +stale matter. To argue upon the possibility of culture before luxury +to the bucolic world may be to argue truly, but it is an attempt +to disturb a sequence to which humanity has been long accustomed. +Yeobright preaching to the Egdon eremites that they might rise to +a serene comprehensiveness without going through the process of +enriching themselves, was not unlike arguing to ancient Chaldeans that +in ascending from earth to the pure empyrean it was not necessary to +pass first into the intervening heaven of ether. + +Was Yeobright's mind well-proportioned? No. A well-proportioned mind +is one which shows no particular bias; one of which we may safely +say that it will never cause its owner to be confined as a madman, +tortured as a heretic, or crucified as a blasphemer. Also, on the +other hand, that it will never cause him to be applauded as a prophet, +revered as a priest, or exalted as a king. Its usual blessings are +happiness and mediocrity. It produces the poetry of Rogers, the +paintings of West, the statecraft of North, the spiritual guidance +of Tomline; enabling its possessors to find their way to wealth, to +wind up well, to step with dignity off the stage, to die comfortably +in their beds, and to get the decent monument which, in many +cases, they deserve. It never would have allowed Yeobright to do +such a ridiculous thing as throw up his business to benefit his +fellow-creatures. + +He walked along towards home without attending to paths. If anyone +knew the heath well it was Clym. He was permeated with its scenes, +with its substance, and with its odours. He might be said to be its +product. His eyes had first opened thereon; with its appearance all +the first images of his memory were mingled; his estimate of life +had been coloured by it: his toys had been the flint knives and +arrow-heads which he found there, wondering why stones should "grow" +to such odd shapes; his flowers, the purple bells and yellow furze; +his animal kingdom, the snakes and croppers; his society, its human +haunters. Take all the varying hates felt by Eustacia Vye towards the +heath, and translate them into loves, and you have the heart of Clym. +He gazed upon the wide prospect as he walked, and was glad. + +To many persons this Egdon was a place which had slipped out of its +century generations ago, to intrude as an uncouth object into this. +It was an obsolete thing, and few cared to study it. How could this +be otherwise in the days of square fields, plashed hedges, and meadows +watered on a plan so rectangular that on a fine day they looked +like silver gridirons? The farmer, in his ride, who could smile at +artificial grasses, look with solicitude at the coming corn, and sigh +with sadness at the fly-eaten turnips, bestowed upon the distant +upland of heath nothing better than a frown. But as for Yeobright, +when he looked from the heights on his way he could not help indulging +in a barbarous satisfaction at observing that, in some of the attempts +at reclamation from the waste, tillage, after holding on for a year +or two, had receded again in despair, the ferns and furze-tufts +stubbornly reasserting themselves. + +He descended into the valley, and soon reached his home at Blooms-End. +His mother was snipping dead leaves from the window-plants. She looked +up at him as if she did not understand the meaning of his long stay +with her; her face had worn that look for several days. He could +perceive that the curiosity which had been shown by the hair-cutting +group amounted in his mother to concern. But she had asked no question +with her lips, even when the arrival of his trunk suggested that he +was not going to leave her soon. Her silence besought an explanation +of him more loudly than words. + +"I am not going back to Paris again, mother," he said. "At least, in +my old capacity. I have given up the business." + +Mrs. Yeobright turned in pained surprise. "I thought something was +amiss, because of the boxes. I wonder you did not tell me sooner." + +"I ought to have done it. But I have been in doubt whether you would +be pleased with my plan. I was not quite clear on a few points +myself. I am going to take an entirely new course." + +"I am astonished, Clym. How can you want to do better than you've +been doing?" + +"Very easily. But I shall not do better in the way you mean; I +suppose it will be called doing worse. But I hate that business of +mine, and I want to do some worthy thing before I die. As a +schoolmaster I think to do it--a school-master to the poor and +ignorant, to teach them what nobody else will." + +"After all the trouble that has been taken to give you a start, and +when there is nothing to do but to keep straight on towards affluence, +you say you will be a poor man's schoolmaster. Your fancies will be +your ruin, Clym." + +Mrs. Yeobright spoke calmly, but the force of feeling behind the words +was but too apparent to one who knew her as well as her son did. He +did not answer. There was in his face that hopelessness of being +understood which comes when the objector is constitutionally beyond +the reach of a logic that, even under favouring conditions, is almost +too coarse a vehicle for the subtlety of the argument. + +No more was said on the subject till the end of dinner. His mother +then began, as if there had been no interval since the morning. "It +disturbs me, Clym, to find that you have come home with such thoughts +as those. I hadn't the least idea that you meant to go backward in +the world by your own free choice. Of course, I have always supposed +you were going to push straight on, as other men do--all who deserve +the name--when they have been put in a good way of doing well." + +"I cannot help it," said Clym, in a troubled tone. "Mother, I hate +the flashy business. Talk about men who deserve the name, can any man +deserving the name waste his time in that effeminate way, when he sees +half the world going to ruin for want of somebody to buckle to and +teach them how to breast the misery they are born to? I get up every +morning and see the whole creation groaning and travailing in pain, +as St. Paul says, and yet there am I, trafficking in glittering +splendours with wealthy women and titled libertines, and pandering +to the meanest vanities--I, who have health and strength enough for +anything. I have been troubled in my mind about it all the year, and +the end is that I cannot do it any more." + +"Why can't you do it as well as others?" + +"I don't know, except that there are many things other people care +for which I don't; and that's partly why I think I ought to do this. +For one thing, my body does not require much of me. I cannot enjoy +delicacies; good things are wasted upon me. Well, I ought to turn +that defect to advantage, and by being able to do without what other +people require I can spend what such things cost upon anybody else." + +Now, Yeobright, having inherited some of these very instincts from +the woman before him, could not fail to awaken a reciprocity in her +through her feelings, if not by arguments, disguise it as she might +for his good. She spoke with less assurance. "And yet you might have +been a wealthy man if you had only persevered. Manager to that large +diamond establishment--what better can a man wish for? What a post of +trust and respect! I suppose you will be like your father; like him, +you are getting weary of doing well." + +"No," said her son, "I am not weary of that, though I am weary of what +you mean by it. Mother, what is doing well?" + +Mrs. Yeobright was far too thoughtful a woman to be content with ready +definitions, and, like the "What is wisdom?" of Plato's Socrates, and +the "What is truth?" of Pontius Pilate, Yeobright's burning question +received no answer. + +The silence was broken by the clash of the garden gate, a tap at the +door, and its opening. Christian Cantle appeared in the room in his +Sunday clothes. + +It was the custom on Egdon to begin the preface to a story before +absolutely entering the house, so as to be well in for the body of +the narrative by the time visitor and visited stood face to face. +Christian had been saying to them while the door was leaving its +latch, "To think that I, who go from home but once in a while, and +hardly then, should have been there this morning!" + +"'Tis news you have brought us, then, Christian?" said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Ay, sure, about a witch, and ye must overlook my time o' day; for, +says I, 'I must go and tell 'em, though they won't have half done +dinner.' I assure ye it made me shake like a driven leaf. Do ye think +any harm will come o't?" + +"Well--what?" + +"This morning at church we was all standing up, and the pa'son said, +'Let us pray.' 'Well,' thinks I, 'one may as well kneel as stand'; +so down I went; and, more than that, all the rest were as willing to +oblige the man as I. We hadn't been hard at it for more than a minute +when a most terrible screech sounded through church, as if somebody +had just gied up their heart's blood. All the folk jumped up and +then we found that Susan Nunsuch had pricked Miss Vye with a long +stocking-needle, as she had threatened to do as soon as ever she could +get the young lady to church, where she don't come very often. She've +waited for this chance for weeks, so as to draw her blood and put an +end to the bewitching of Susan's children that has been carried on so +long. Sue followed her into church, sat next to her, and as soon as +she could find a chance in went the stocking-needle into my lady's +arm." + +"Good heaven, how horrid!" said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Sue pricked her that deep that the maid fainted away; and as I was +afeard there might be some tumult among us, I got behind the bass-viol +and didn't see no more. But they carried her out into the air, 'tis +said; but when they looked round for Sue she was gone. What a scream +that girl gied, poor thing! There were the pa'son in his surplice +holding up his hand and saying, 'Sit down, my good people, sit down!' +But the deuce a bit would they sit down. O, and what d'ye think I +found out, Mrs. Yeobright? The pa'son wears a suit of clothes under +his surplice!--I could see his black sleeves when he held up his arm." + +"'Tis a cruel thing," said Yeobright. + +"Yes," said his mother. + +"The nation ought to look into it," said Christian. "Here's Humphrey +coming, I think." + +In came Humphrey. "Well, have ye heard the news? But I see you have. +'Tis a very strange thing that whenever one of Egdon folk goes to +church some rum job or other is sure to be doing. The last time one +of us was there was when neighbour Fairway went in the fall; and that +was the day you forbad the banns, Mrs. Yeobright." + +"Has this cruelly treated girl been able to walk home?" said Clym. + +"They say she got better, and went home very well. And now I've told +it I must be moving homeward myself." + +"And I," said Humphrey. "Truly now we shall see if there's anything +in what folks say about her." + +When they were gone into the heath again Yeobright said quietly to his +mother, "Do you think I have turned teacher too soon?" + +"It is right that there should be schoolmasters, and missionaries, and +all such men," she replied. "But it is right, too, that I should try +to lift you out of this life into something richer, and that you +should not come back again, and be as if I had not tried at all." + + + +Later in the day Sam, the turf-cutter, entered. "I've come +a-borrowing, Mrs. Yeobright. I suppose you have heard what's been +happening to the beauty on the hill?" + +"Yes, Sam: half a dozen have been telling us." + +"Beauty?" said Clym. + +"Yes, tolerably well-favoured," Sam replied. "Lord! all the country +owns that 'tis one of the strangest things in the world that such a +woman should have come to live up there." + +"Dark or fair?" + +"Now, though I've seen her twenty times, that's a thing I cannot call +to mind." + +"Darker than Tamsin," murmured Mrs. Yeobright. + +"A woman who seems to care for nothing at all, as you may say." + +"She is melancholy, then?" inquired Clym. + +"She mopes about by herself, and don't mix in with the people." + +"Is she a young lady inclined for adventures?" + +"Not to my knowledge." + +"Doesn't join in with the lads in their games, to get some sort of +excitement in this lonely place?" + +"No." + +"Mumming, for instance?" + +"No. Her notions be different. I should rather say her thoughts were +far away from here, with lords and ladies she'll never know, and +mansions she'll never see again." + +Observing that Clym appeared singularly interested Mrs. Yeobright said +rather uneasily to Sam, "You see more in her than most of us do. Miss +Vye is to my mind too idle to be charming. I have never heard that +she is of any use to herself or to other people. Good girls don't get +treated as witches even on Egdon." + +"Nonsense--that proves nothing either way," said Yeobright. + +"Well, of course I don't understand such niceties," said Sam, +withdrawing from a possibly unpleasant argument; "and what she is we +must wait for time to tell us. The business that I have really called +about is this, to borrow the longest and strongest rope you have. The +captain's bucket has dropped into the well, and they are in want of +water; and as all the chaps are at home today we think we can get it +out for him. We have three cart-ropes already, but they won't reach +to the bottom." + +Mrs. Yeobright told him that he might have whatever ropes he could +find in the outhouse, and Sam went out to search. When he passed by +the door Clym joined him, and accompanied him to the gate. + +"Is this young witch-lady going to stay long at Mistover?" he asked. + +"I should say so." + +"What a cruel shame to ill-use her, She must have suffered +greatly--more in mind than in body." + +"'Twas a graceless trick--such a handsome girl, too. You ought to see +her, Mr. Yeobright, being a young man come from far, and with a little +more to show for your years than most of us." + +"Do you think she would like to teach children?" said Clym. + +Sam shook his head. "Quite a different sort of body from that, I +reckon." + +"O, it was merely something which occurred to me. It would of course +be necessary to see her and talk it over--not an easy thing, by the +way, for my family and hers are not very friendly." + +"I'll tell you how you mid see her, Mr. Yeobright," said Sam. "We are +going to grapple for the bucket at six o'clock tonight at her house, +and you could lend a hand. There's five or six coming, but the well is +deep, and another might be useful, if you don't mind appearing in that +shape. She's sure to be walking round." + +"I'll think of it," said Yeobright; and they parted. + +He thought of it a good deal; but nothing more was said about Eustacia +inside the house at that time. Whether this romantic martyr to +superstition and the melancholy mummer he had conversed with under the +full moon were one and the same person remained as yet a problem. + + + + +III + +The First Act in a Timeworn Drama + + +The afternoon was fine, and Yeobright walked on the heath for an hour +with his mother. When they reached the lofty ridge which divided the +valley of Blooms-End from the adjoining valley they stood still and +looked round. The Quiet Woman Inn was visible on the low margin of the +heath in one direction, and afar on the other hand rose Mistover Knap. + +"You mean to call on Thomasin?" he inquired. + +"Yes. But you need not come this time," said his mother. + +"In that case I'll branch off here, mother. I am going to Mistover." + +Mrs. Yeobright turned to him inquiringly. + +"I am going to help them get the bucket out of the captain's well," he +continued. "As it is so very deep I may be useful. And I should like +to see this Miss Vye--not so much for her good looks as for another +reason." + +"Must you go?" his mother asked. + +"I thought to." + +And they parted. "There is no help for it," murmured Clym's mother +gloomily as he withdrew. "They are sure to see each other. I wish +Sam would carry his news to other houses than mine." + +Clym's retreating figure got smaller and smaller as it rose and fell +over the hillocks on his way. "He is tender-hearted," said Mrs. +Yeobright to herself while she watched him; "otherwise it would matter +little. How he's going on!" + +He was, indeed, walking with a will over the furze, as straight as a +line, as if his life depended upon it. His mother drew a long breath, +and, abandoning the visit to Thomasin, turned back. The evening films +began to make nebulous pictures of the valleys, but the high lands +still were raked by the declining rays of the winter sun, which +glanced on Clym as he walked forward, eyed by every rabbit and +fieldfare around, a long shadow advancing in front of him. + +On drawing near to the furze-covered bank and ditch which fortified +the captain's dwelling he could hear voices within, signifying that +operations had been already begun. At the side-entrance gate he +stopped and looked over. + +Half a dozen able-bodied men were standing in a line from the +well-mouth, holding a rope which passed over the well-roller into the +depths below. Fairway, with a piece of smaller rope round his body, +made fast to one of the standards, to guard against accidents, was +leaning over the opening, his right hand clasping the vertical rope +that descended into the well. + +"Now, silence, folks," said Fairway. + +The talking ceased, and Fairway gave a circular motion to the rope, as +if he were stirring batter. At the end of a minute a dull splashing +reverberated from the bottom of the well; the helical twist he had +imparted to the rope had reached the grapnel below. + +"Haul!" said Fairway; and the men who held the rope began to gather it +over the wheel. + +"I think we've got sommat," said one of the haulers-in. + +"Then pull steady," said Fairway. + +They gathered up more and more, till a regular dripping into the well +could be heard below. It grew smarter with the increasing height of +the bucket, and presently a hundred and fifty feet of rope had been +pulled in. + +Fairway then lit a lantern, tied it to another cord, and began +lowering it into the well beside the first. Clym came forward and +looked down. Strange humid leaves, which knew nothing of the seasons +of the year, and quaint-natured mosses were revealed on the wellside +as the lantern descended; till its rays fell upon a confused mass of +rope and bucket dangling in the dank, dark air. + +"We've only got en by the edge of the hoop--steady, for God's sake!" +said Fairway. + +They pulled with the greatest gentleness, till the wet bucket appeared +about two yards below them, like a dead friend come to earth again. +Three or four hands were stretched out, then jerk went the rope, whizz +went the wheel, the two foremost haulers fell backward, the beating of +a falling body was heard, receding down the sides of the well, and a +thunderous uproar arose at the bottom. The bucket was gone again. + +"Damn the bucket!" said Fairway. + +"Lower again," said Sam. + +"I'm as stiff as a ram's horn stooping so long," said Fairway, +standing up and stretching himself till his joints creaked. + +"Rest a few minutes, Timothy," said Yeobright. "I'll take your +place." + +The grapnel was again lowered. Its smart impact upon the distant +water reached their ears like a kiss, whereupon Yeobright knelt down, +and leaning over the well began dragging the grapnel round and round +as Fairway had done. + +"Tie a rope round him--it is dangerous!" cried a soft and anxious +voice somewhere above them. + +Everybody turned. The speaker was a woman, gazing down upon the group +from an upper window, whose panes blazed in the ruddy glare from the +west. Her lips were parted and she appeared for the moment to forget +where she was. + +The rope was accordingly tied round his waist, and the work proceeded. +At the next haul the weight was not heavy, and it was discovered that +they had only secured a coil of the rope detached from the bucket. +The tangled mass was thrown into the background. Humphrey took +Yeobright's place, and the grapnel was lowered again. + +Yeobright retired to the heap of recovered rope in a meditative mood. +Of the identity between the lady's voice and that of the melancholy +mummer he had not a moment's doubt. "How thoughtful of her!" he said +to himself. + +Eustacia, who had reddened when she perceived the effect of her +exclamation upon the group below, was no longer to be seen at the +window, though Yeobright scanned it wistfully. While he stood there +the men at the well succeeded in getting up the bucket without a +mishap. One of them went to inquire for the captain, to learn what +orders he wished to give for mending the well-tackle. The captain +proved to be away from home, and Eustacia appeared at the door and +came out. She had lapsed into an easy and dignified calm, far removed +from the intensity of life in her words of solicitude for Clym's +safety. + +"Will it be possible to draw water here tonight?" she inquired. + +"No, miss; the bottom of the bucket is clean knocked out. And as we +can do no more now we'll leave off, and come again tomorrow morning." + +"No water," she murmured, turning away. + +"I can send you up some from Blooms-End," said Clym, coming forward +and raising his hat as the men retired. + +Yeobright and Eustacia looked at each other for one instant, as if +each had in mind those few moments during which a certain moonlight +scene was common to both. With the glance the calm fixity of her +features sublimed itself to an expression of refinement and warmth: +it was like garish noon rising to the dignity of sunset in a couple +of seconds. + +"Thank you; it will hardly be necessary," she replied. + +"But if you have no water?" + +"Well, it is what I call no water," she said, blushing, and lifting +her long-lashed eyelids as if to lift them were a work requiring +consideration. "But my grandfather calls it water enough. I'll show +you what I mean." + +She moved away a few yards, and Clym followed. When she reached the +corner of the enclosure, where the steps were formed for mounting the +boundary bank, she sprang up with a lightness which seemed strange +after her listless movement towards the well. It incidentally showed +that her apparent languor did not arise from lack of force. + +Clym ascended behind her, and noticed a circular burnt patch at the +top of the bank. "Ashes?" he said. + +"Yes," said Eustacia. "We had a little bonfire here last Fifth of +November, and those are the marks of it." + +On that spot had stood the fire she had kindled to attract Wildeve. + +"That's the only kind of water we have," she continued, tossing a +stone into the pool, which lay on the outside of the bank like the +white of an eye without its pupil. The stone fell with a flounce, +but no Wildeve appeared on the other side, as on a previous occasion +there. "My grandfather says he lived for more than twenty years at +sea on water twice as bad as that," she went on, "and considers it +quite good enough for us here on an emergency." + +"Well, as a matter of fact there are no impurities in the water of +these pools at this time of the year. It has only just rained into +them." + +She shook her head. "I am managing to exist in a wilderness, but I +cannot drink from a pond," she said. + +Clym looked towards the well, which was now deserted, the men having +gone home. "It is a long way to send for spring-water," he said, +after a silence. "But since you don't like this in the pond, I'll try +to get you some myself." He went back to the well. "Yes, I think I +could do it by tying on this pail." + +"But, since I would not trouble the men to get it, I cannot in +conscience let you." + +"I don't mind the trouble at all." + +He made fast the pail to the long coil of rope, put it over the wheel, +and allowed it to descend by letting the rope slip through his hands. +Before it had gone far, however, he checked it. + +"I must make fast the end first, or we may lose the whole," he said to +Eustacia, who had drawn near. "Could you hold this a moment, while I +do it--or shall I call your servant?" + +"I can hold it," said Eustacia; and he placed the rope in her hands, +going then to search for the end. + +"I suppose I may let it slip down?" she inquired. + +"I would advise you not to let it go far," said Clym. "It will get +much heavier, you will find." + +However, Eustacia had begun to pay out. While he was tying she cried, +"I cannot stop it!" + +Clym ran to her side, and found he could only check the rope by +twisting the loose part round the upright post, when it stopped with a +jerk. "Has it hurt you?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Very much?" + +"No; I think not." She opened her hands. One of them was bleeding; +the rope had dragged off the skin. Eustacia wrapped it in her +handkerchief. + +"You should have let go," said Yeobright. "Why didn't you?" + +"You said I was to hold on... This is the second time I have been +wounded today." + +"Ah, yes; I have heard of it. I blush for my native Egdon. Was it a +serious injury you received in church, Miss Vye?" + +There was such an abundance of sympathy in Clym's tone that Eustacia +slowly drew up her sleeve and disclosed her round white arm. A bright +red spot appeared on its smooth surface, like a ruby on Parian marble. + + +"There it is," she said, putting her finger against the spot. + +"It was dastardly of the woman," said Clym. "Will not Captain Vye get +her punished?" + +"He is gone from home on that very business. I did not know that I +had such a magic reputation." + +"And you fainted?" said Clym, looking at the scarlet little puncture +as if he would like to kiss it and make it well. + +"Yes, it frightened me. I had not been to church for a long time. +And now I shall not go again for ever so long--perhaps never. I +cannot face their eyes after this. Don't you think it dreadfully +humiliating? I wished I was dead for hours after, but I don't mind +now." + +"I have come to clean away these cobwebs," said Yeobright. "Would you +like to help me--by high-class teaching? We might benefit them much." + +"I don't quite feel anxious to. I have not much love for my +fellow-creatures. Sometimes I quite hate them." + +"Still I think that if you were to hear my scheme you might take an +interest in it. There is no use in hating people--if you hate +anything, you should hate what produced them." + +"Do you mean Nature? I hate her already. But I shall be glad to hear +your scheme at any time." + +The situation had now worked itself out, and the next natural thing +was for them to part. Clym knew this well enough, and Eustacia made a +move of conclusion; yet he looked at her as if he had one word more +to say. Perhaps if he had not lived in Paris it would never have been +uttered. + +"We have met before," he said, regarding her with rather more interest +than was necessary. + +"I do not own it," said Eustacia, with a repressed, still look. + +"But I may think what I like." + +"Yes." + +"You are lonely here." + +"I cannot endure the heath, except in its purple season. The heath is +a cruel taskmaster to me." + +"Can you say so?" he asked. "To my mind it is most exhilarating, and +strengthening, and soothing. I would rather live on these hills than +anywhere else in the world." + +"It is well enough for artists; but I never would learn to draw." + +"And there is a very curious Druidical stone just out there." He threw +a pebble in the direction signified. "Do you often go to see it?" + +"I was not even aware there existed any such curious Druidical stone. +I am aware that there are boulevards in Paris." + +Yeobright looked thoughtfully on the ground. "That means much," he +said. + +"It does indeed," said Eustacia. + +"I remember when I had the same longing for town bustle. Five years +of a great city would be a perfect cure for that." + +"Heaven send me such a cure! Now, Mr. Yeobright, I will go indoors and +plaster my wounded hand." + +They separated, and Eustacia vanished in the increasing shade. She +seemed full of many things. Her past was a blank, her life had begun. +The effect upon Clym of this meeting he did not fully discover till +some time after. During his walk home his most intelligible sensation +was that his scheme had somehow become glorified. A beautiful woman +had been intertwined with it. + +On reaching the house he went up to the room which was to be made his +study, and occupied himself during the evening in unpacking his books +from the boxes and arranging them on shelves. From another box he +drew a lamp and a can of oil. He trimmed the lamp, arranged his +table, and said, "Now, I am ready to begin." + +He rose early the next morning, read two hours before breakfast by the +light of his lamp--read all the morning, all the afternoon. Just when +the sun was going down his eyes felt weary, and he leant back in his +chair. + +His room overlooked the front of the premises and the valley of the +heath beyond. The lowest beams of the winter sun threw the shadow of +the house over the palings, across the grass margin of the heath, +and far up the vale, where the chimney outlines and those of the +surrounding treetops stretched forth in long dark prongs. Having +been seated at work all day, he decided to take a turn upon the hills +before it got dark; and, going out forthwith, he struck across the +heath towards Mistover. + +It was an hour and a half later when he again appeared at the garden +gate. The shutters of the house were closed, and Christian Cantle, +who had been wheeling manure about the garden all day, had gone home. +On entering he found that his mother, after waiting a long time for +him, had finished her meal. + +"Where have you been, Clym?" she immediately said. "Why didn't you +tell me that you were going away at this time?" + +"I have been on the heath." + +"You'll meet Eustacia Vye if you go up there." + +Clym paused a minute. "Yes, I met her this evening," he said, as +though it were spoken under the sheer necessity of preserving honesty. + +"I wondered if you had." + +"It was no appointment." + +"No; such meetings never are." + +"But you are not angry, mother?" + +"I can hardly say that I am not. Angry? No. But when I consider the +usual nature of the drag which causes men of promise to disappoint the +world I feel uneasy." + +"You deserve credit for the feeling, mother. But I can assure you +that you need not be disturbed by it on my account." + +"When I think of you and your new crotchets," said Mrs. Yeobright, +with some emphasis, "I naturally don't feel so comfortable as I did a +twelvemonth ago. It is incredible to me that a man accustomed to the +attractive women of Paris and elsewhere should be so easily worked +upon by a girl in a heath. You could just as well have walked another +way." + +"I had been studying all day." + +"Well, yes," she added more hopefully, "I have been thinking that you +might get on as a schoolmaster, and rise that way, since you really +are determined to hate the course you were pursuing." + +Yeobright was unwilling to disturb this idea, though his scheme was +far enough removed from one wherein the education of youth should be +made a mere channel of social ascent. He had no desires of that sort. +He had reached the stage in a young man's life when the grimness of +the general human situation first becomes clear; and the realization +of this causes ambition to halt awhile. In France it is not +uncustomary to commit suicide at this stage; in England we do much +better, or much worse, as the case may be. + +The love between the young man and his mother was strangely invisible +now. Of love it may be said, the less earthly the less demonstrative. +In its absolutely indestructible form it reaches a profundity in +which all exhibition of itself is painful. It was so with these. Had +conversations between them been overheard, people would have said, +"How cold they are to each other!" + +His theory and his wishes about devoting his future to teaching +had made an impression on Mrs. Yeobright. Indeed, how could it be +otherwise when he was a part of her--when their discourses were as if +carried on between the right and the left hands of the same body? He +had despaired of reaching her by argument; and it was almost as a +discovery to him that he could reach her by a magnetism which was as +superior to words as words are to yells. + +Strangely enough he began to feel now that it would not be so hard +to persuade her who was his best friend that comparative poverty was +essentially the higher course for him, as to reconcile to his feelings +the act of persuading her. From every provident point of view his +mother was so undoubtedly right, that he was not without a sickness of +heart in finding he could shake her. + +She had a singular insight into life, considering that she had never +mixed with it. There are instances of persons who, without clear +ideas of the things they criticize, have yet had clear ideas of the +relations of those things. Blacklock, a poet blind from his birth, +could describe visual objects with accuracy; Professor Sanderson, who +was also blind, gave excellent lectures on colour, and taught others +the theory of ideas which they had and he had not. In the social +sphere these gifted ones are mostly women; they can watch a world +which they never saw, and estimate forces of which they have only +heard. We call it intuition. + +What was the great world to Mrs. Yeobright? A multitude whose +tendencies could be perceived, though not its essences. Communities +were seen by her as from a distance; she saw them as we see the +throngs which cover the canvases of Sallaert, Van Alsloot, and +others of that school--vast masses of beings, jostling, zigzagging, +and processioning in definite directions, but whose features are +indistinguishable by the very comprehensiveness of the view. + +One could see that, as far as it had gone, her life was very complete +on its reflective side. The philosophy of her nature, and its +limitation by circumstances, was almost written in her movements. +They had a majestic foundation, though they were far from being +majestic; and they had a groundwork of assurance, but they were not +assured. As her once elastic walk had become deadened by time, so had +her natural pride of life been hindered in its blooming by her +necessities. + + + +The next slight touch in the shaping of Clym's destiny occurred a few +days after. A barrow was opened on the heath, and Yeobright attended +the operation, remaining away from his study during several hours. In +the afternoon Christian returned from a journey in the same direction, +and Mrs. Yeobright questioned him. + +"They have dug a hole, and they have found things like flowerpots +upside down, Mis'ess Yeobright; and inside these be real charnel +bones. They have carried 'em off to men's houses; but I shouldn't +like to sleep where they will bide. Dead folks have been known to come +and claim their own. Mr. Yeobright had got one pot of the bones, and +was going to bring 'em home--real skellington bones--but 'twas ordered +otherwise. You'll be relieved to hear that he gave away his pot +and all, on second thoughts; and a blessed thing for ye, Mis'ess +Yeobright, considering the wind o' nights." + +"Gave it away?" + +"Yes. To Miss Vye. She has a cannibal taste for such churchyard +furniture seemingly." + +"Miss Vye was there too?" + +"Ay, 'a b'lieve she was." + +When Clym came home, which was shortly after, his mother said, in a +curious tone, "The urn you had meant for me you gave away." + +Yeobright made no reply; the current of her feeling was too pronounced +to admit it. + +The early weeks of the year passed on. Yeobright certainly studied at +home, but he also walked much abroad, and the direction of his walk +was always towards some point of a line between Mistover and +Rainbarrow. + +The month of March arrived, and the heath showed its first signs of +awakening from winter trance. The awakening was almost feline in its +stealthiness. The pool outside the bank by Eustacia's dwelling, which +seemed as dead and desolate as ever to an observer who moved and made +noises in his observation, would gradually disclose a state of great +animation when silently watched awhile. A timid animal world had come +to life for the season. Little tadpoles and efts began to bubble up +through the water, and to race along beneath it; toads made noises +like very young ducks, and advanced to the margin in twos and threes; +overhead, bumble-bees flew hither and thither in the thickening light, +their drone coming and going like the sound of a gong. + +On an evening such as this Yeobright descended into the Blooms-End +valley from beside that very pool, where he had been standing with +another person quite silently and quite long enough to hear all this +puny stir of resurrection in nature; yet he had not heard it. His +walk was rapid as he came down, and he went with a springy tread. +Before entering upon his mother's premises he stopped and breathed. +The light which shone forth on him from the window revealed that +his face was flushed and his eye bright. What it did not show was +something which lingered upon his lips like a seal set there. The +abiding presence of this impress was so real that he hardly dared to +enter the house, for it seemed as if his mother might say, "What red +spot is that glowing upon your mouth so vividly?" + +But he entered soon after. The tea was ready, and he sat down +opposite his mother. She did not speak many words; and as for him, +something had been just done and some words had been just said on +the hill which prevented him from beginning a desultory chat. His +mother's taciturnity was not without ominousness, but he appeared not +to care. He knew why she said so little, but he could not remove the +cause of her bearing towards him. These half-silent sittings were far +from uncommon with them now. At last Yeobright made a beginning of +what was intended to strike at the whole root of the matter. + +"Five days have we sat like this at meals with scarcely a word. +What's the use of it, mother?" + +"None," said she, in a heart-swollen tone. "But there is only too +good a reason." + +"Not when you know all. I have been wanting to speak about this, and +I am glad the subject is begun. The reason, of course, is Eustacia +Vye. Well, I confess I have seen her lately, and have seen her a good +many times." + +"Yes, yes; and I know what that amounts to. It troubles me, Clym. +You are wasting your life here; and it is solely on account of her. +If it had not been for that woman you would never have entertained +this teaching scheme at all." + +Clym looked hard at his mother. "You know that is not it," he said. + +"Well, I know you had decided to attempt it before you saw her; but +that would have ended in intentions. It was very well to talk of, but +ridiculous to put in practice. I fully expected that in the course of +a month or two you would have seen the folly of such self-sacrifice, +and would have been by this time back again to Paris in some business +or other. I can understand objections to the diamond trade--I really +was thinking that it might be inadequate to the life of a man like you +even though it might have made you a millionaire. But now I see how +mistaken you are about this girl I doubt if you could be correct about +other things." + +"How am I mistaken in her?" + +"She is lazy and dissatisfied. But that is not all of it. Supposing +her to be as good a woman as any you can find, which she certainly is +not, why do you wish to connect yourself with anybody at present?" + +"Well, there are practical reasons," Clym began, and then almost broke +off under an overpowering sense of the weight of argument which could +be brought against his statement. "If I take a school an educated +woman would be invaluable as a help to me." + +"What! you really mean to marry her?" + +"It would be premature to state that plainly. But consider what +obvious advantages there would be in doing it. She--" + +"Don't suppose she has any money. She hasn't a farthing." + +"She is excellently educated, and would make a good matron in a +boarding-school. I candidly own that I have modified my views a +little, in deference to you; and it should satisfy you. I no longer +adhere to my intention of giving with my own mouth rudimentary +education to the lowest class. I can do better. I can establish a +good private school for farmers' sons, and without stopping the +school I can manage to pass examinations. By this means, and by the +assistance of a wife like her--" + +"Oh, Clym!" + +"I shall ultimately, I hope, be at the head of one of the best schools +in the county." + +Yeobright had enunciated the word "her" with a fervour which, in +conversation with a mother, was absurdly indiscreet. Hardly a +maternal heart within the four seas could, in such circumstances, have +helped being irritated at that ill-timed betrayal of feeling for a new +woman. + +"You are blinded, Clym," she said warmly. "It was a bad day for you +when you first set eyes on her. And your scheme is merely a castle in +the air built on purpose to justify this folly which has seized you, +and to salve your conscience on the irrational situation you are in." + +"Mother, that's not true," he firmly answered. + +"Can you maintain that I sit and tell untruths, when all I wish to do +is to save you from sorrow? For shame, Clym! But it is all through +that woman--a hussy!" + +Clym reddened like fire and rose. He placed his hand upon his +mother's shoulder and said, in a tone which hung strangely between +entreaty and command, "I won't hear it. I may be led to answer you in +a way which we shall both regret." + +His mother parted her lips to begin some other vehement truth, but on +looking at him she saw that in his face which led her to leave the +words unsaid. Yeobright walked once or twice across the room, and +then suddenly went out of the house. It was eleven o'clock when he +came in, though he had not been further than the precincts of the +garden. His mother was gone to bed. A light was left burning on the +table, and supper was spread. Without stopping for any food he +secured the doors and went upstairs. + + + + +IV + +An Hour of Bliss and Many Hours of Sadness + + +The next day was gloomy enough at Blooms-End. Yeobright remained in +his study, sitting over the open books; but the work of those hours +was miserably scant. Determined that there should be nothing in his +conduct towards his mother resembling sullenness, he had occasionally +spoken to her on passing matters, and would take no notice of the +brevity of her replies. With the same resolve to keep up a show of +conversation he said, about seven o'clock in the evening, "There's an +eclipse of the moon tonight. I am going out to see it." And, putting +on his overcoat, he left her. + +The low moon was not as yet visible from the front of the house, and +Yeobright climbed out of the valley until he stood in the full flood +of her light. But even now he walked on, and his steps were in the +direction of Rainbarrow. + +In half an hour he stood at the top. The sky was clear from verge to +verge, and the moon flung her rays over the whole heath, but without +sensibly lighting it, except where paths and water-courses had laid +bare the white flints and glistening quartz sand, which made streaks +upon the general shade. After standing awhile he stooped and felt the +heather. It was dry, and he flung himself down upon the barrow, his +face towards the moon, which depicted a small image of herself in each +of his eyes. + +He had often come up here without stating his purpose to his mother; +but this was the first time that he had been ostensibly frank as to +his purpose while really concealing it. It was a moral situation +which, three months earlier, he could hardly have credited of himself. +In returning to labour in this sequestered spot he had anticipated +an escape from the chafing of social necessities; yet behold they +were here also. More than ever he longed to be in some world where +personal ambition was not the only recognized form of progress--such, +perhaps, as might have been the case at some time or other in the +silvery globe then shining upon him. His eye travelled over the +length and breadth of that distant country--over the Bay of Rainbows, +the sombre Sea of Crises, the Ocean of Storms, the Lake of Dreams, the +vast Walled Plains, and the wondrous Ring Mountains--till he almost +felt himself to be voyaging bodily through its wild scenes, standing +on its hollow hills, traversing its deserts, descending its vales and +old sea bottoms, or mounting to the edges of its craters. + +While he watched the far-removed landscape a tawny stain grew into +being on the lower verge: the eclipse had begun. This marked a +preconcerted moment: for the remote celestial phenomenon had been +pressed into sublunary service as a lover's signal. Yeobright's mind +flew back to earth at the sight; he arose, shook himself and listened. +Minute after minute passed by, perhaps ten minutes passed, and the +shadow on the moon perceptibly widened. He heard a rustling on his +left hand, a cloaked figure with an upturned face appeared at the base +of the Barrow, and Clym descended. In a moment the figure was in his +arms, and his lips upon hers. + +"My Eustacia!" + +"Clym, dearest!" + +Such a situation had less than three months brought forth. + +They remained long without a single utterance, for no language could +reach the level of their condition: words were as the rusty implements +of a by-gone barbarous epoch, and only to be occasionally tolerated. + +"I began to wonder why you did not come," said Yeobright, when she had +withdrawn a little from his embrace. + +"You said ten minutes after the first mark of shade on the edge of the +moon, and that's what it is now." + +"Well, let us only think that here we are." + +Then, holding each other's hand, they were again silent, and the +shadow on the moon's disc grew a little larger. + +"Has it seemed long since you last saw me?" she asked. + +"It has seemed sad." + +"And not long? That's because you occupy yourself, and so blind +yourself to my absence. To me, who can do nothing, it has been like +living under stagnant water." + +"I would rather bear tediousness, dear, than have time made short by +such means as have shortened mine." + +"In what way is that? You have been thinking you wished you did not +love me." + +"How can a man wish that, and yet love on? No, Eustacia." + +"Men can, women cannot." + +"Well, whatever I may have thought, one thing is certain--I +do love you--past all compass and description. I love you to +oppressiveness--I, who have never before felt more than a pleasant +passing fancy for any woman I have ever seen. Let me look right into +your moonlit face and dwell on every line and curve in it! Only a +few hair-breadths make the difference between this face and faces I +have seen many times before I knew you; yet what a difference--the +difference between everything and nothing at all. One touch on that +mouth again! there, and there, and there. Your eyes seem heavy, +Eustacia." + +"No, it is my general way of looking. I think it arises from my +feeling sometimes an agonizing pity for myself that I ever was born." + +"You don't feel it now?" + +"No. Yet I know that we shall not love like this always. Nothing can +ensure the continuance of love. It will evaporate like a spirit, and +so I feel full of fears." + +"You need not." + +"Ah, you don't know. You have seen more than I, and have been into +cities and among people that I have only heard of, and have lived more +years than I; but yet I am older at this than you. I loved another +man once, and now I love you." + +"In God's mercy don't talk so, Eustacia!" + +"But I do not think I shall be the one who wearies first. It will, I +fear, end in this way: your mother will find out that you meet me, and +she will influence you against me!" + +"That can never be. She knows of these meetings already." + +"And she speaks against me?" + +"I will not say." + +"There, go away! Obey her. I shall ruin you. It is foolish of you to +meet me like this. Kiss me, and go away for ever. For ever--do you +hear?--for ever!" + +"Not I." + +"It is your only chance. Many a man's love has been a curse to him." + +"You are desperate, full of fancies, and wilful; and you +misunderstand. I have an additional reason for seeing you tonight +besides love of you. For though, unlike you, I feel our affection +may be eternal, I feel with you in this, that our present mode of +existence cannot last." + +"Oh! 'tis your mother. Yes, that's it! I knew it." + +"Never mind what it is. Believe this, I cannot let myself lose you. +I must have you always with me. This very evening I do not like to +let you go. There is only one cure for this anxiety, dearest--you +must be my wife." + +She started: then endeavoured to say calmly, "Cynics say that cures +the anxiety by curing the love." + +"But you must answer me. Shall I claim you some day--I don't mean at +once?" + +"I must think," Eustacia murmured. "At present speak of Paris to me. +Is there any place like it on earth?" + +"It is very beautiful. But will you be mine?" + +"I will be nobody else's in the world--does that satisfy you?" + +"Yes, for the present." + +"Now tell me of the Tuileries, and the Louvre," she continued +evasively. + +"I hate talking of Paris! Well, I remember one sunny room in the +Louvre which would make a fitting place for you to live in--the +Galerie d'Apollon. Its windows are mainly east; and in the early +morning, when the sun is bright, the whole apartment is in a perfect +blaze of splendour. The rays bristle and dart from the encrustations +of gilding to the magnificent inlaid coffers, from the coffers to +the gold and silver plate, from the plate to the jewels and precious +stones, from these to the enamels, till there is a perfect network of +light which quite dazzles the eye. But now, about our marriage--" + +"And Versailles--the King's Gallery is some such gorgeous room, is it +not?" + +"Yes. But what's the use of talking of gorgeous rooms? By the way, the +Little Trianon would suit us beautifully to live in, and you might +walk in the gardens in the moonlight and think you were in some +English shrubbery; it is laid out in English fashion." + +"I should hate to think that!" + +"Then you could keep to the lawn in front of the Grand Palace. +All about there you would doubtless feel in a world of historical +romance." + +He went on, since it was all new to her, and described Fontainebleau, +St. Cloud, the Bois, and many other familiar haunts of the Parisians; +till she said-- + +"When used you to go to these places?" + +"On Sundays." + +"Ah, yes. I dislike English Sundays. How I should chime in with +their manners over there! Dear Clym, you'll go back again?" + +Clym shook his head, and looked at the eclipse. + +"If you'll go back again I'll--be something," she said tenderly, +putting her head near his breast. "If you'll agree I'll give my +promise, without making you wait a minute longer." + +"How extraordinary that you and my mother should be of one mind about +this!" said Yeobright. "I have vowed not to go back, Eustacia. It is +not the place I dislike; it is the occupation." + +"But you can go in some other capacity." + +"No. Besides, it would interfere with my scheme. Don't press that, +Eustacia. Will you marry me?" + +"I cannot tell." + +"Now--never mind Paris; it is no better than other spots. Promise, +sweet!" + +"You will never adhere to your education plan, I am quite sure; and +then it will be all right for me; and so I promise to be yours for +ever and ever." + +Clym brought her face towards his by a gentle pressure of the hand, +and kissed her. + +"Ah! but you don't know what you have got in me," she said. +"Sometimes I think there is not that in Eustacia Vye which will make +a good homespun wife. Well, let it go--see how our time is slipping, +slipping, slipping!" She pointed towards the half eclipsed moon. + +"You are too mournful." + +"No. Only I dread to think of anything beyond the present. What is, we +know. We are together now, and it is unknown how long we shall be so; +the unknown always fills my mind with terrible possibilities, even +when I may reasonably expect it to be cheerful... Clym, the eclipsed +moonlight shines upon your face with a strange foreign colour, and +shows its shape as if it were cut out in gold. That means that you +should be doing better things than this." + +"You are ambitious, Eustacia--no, not exactly ambitious, luxurious. I +ought to be of the same vein, to make you happy, I suppose. And yet, +far from that, I could live and die in a hermitage here, with proper +work to do." + +There was that in his tone which implied distrust of his position as a +solicitous lover, a doubt if he were acting fairly towards one whose +tastes touched his own only at rare and infrequent points. She saw +his meaning, and whispered, in a low, full accent of eager assurance +"Don't mistake me, Clym: though I should like Paris, I love you for +yourself alone. To be your wife and live in Paris would be heaven to +me; but I would rather live with you in a hermitage here than not be +yours at all. It is gain to me either way, and very great gain. +There's my too candid confession." + +"Spoken like a woman. And now I must soon leave you. I'll walk with +you towards your house." + +"But must you go home yet?" she asked. "Yes, the sand has nearly +slipped away, I see, and the eclipse is creeping on more and more. +Don't go yet! Stop till the hour has run itself out; then I will not +press you any more. You will go home and sleep well; I keep sighing +in my sleep! Do you ever dream of me?" + +"I cannot recollect a clear dream of you." + +"I see your face in every scene of my dreams, and hear your voice in +every sound. I wish I did not. It is too much what I feel. They say +such love never lasts. But it must! And yet once, I remember, I saw +an officer of the Hussars ride down the street at Budmouth, and though +he was a total stranger and never spoke to me, I loved him till I +thought I should really die of love--but I didn't die, and at last I +left off caring for him. How terrible it would be if a time should +come when I could not love you, my Clym!" + +"Please don't say such reckless things. When we see such a time at +hand we will say, 'I have outlived my faith and purpose,' and die. +There, the hour has expired: now let us walk on." + +Hand in hand they went along the path towards Mistover. When they +were near the house he said, "It is too late for me to see your +grandfather tonight. Do you think he will object to it?" + +"I will speak to him. I am so accustomed to be my own mistress that +it did not occur to me that we should have to ask him." + +Then they lingeringly separated, and Clym descended towards +Blooms-End. + +And as he walked further and further from the charmed atmosphere of +his Olympian girl his face grew sad with a new sort of sadness. A +perception of the dilemma in which his love had placed him came back +in full force. In spite of Eustacia's apparent willingness to wait +through the period of an unpromising engagement, till he should be +established in his new pursuit, he could not but perceive at moments +that she loved him rather as a visitant from a gay world to which she +rightly belonged than as a man with a purpose opposed to that recent +past of his which so interested her. Often at their meetings a word or +a sigh escaped her. It meant that, though she made no conditions as to +his return to the French capital, this was what she secretly longed +for in the event of marriage; and it robbed him of many an otherwise +pleasant hour. Along with that came the widening breach between +himself and his mother. Whenever any little occurrence had brought +into more prominence than usual the disappointment that he was causing +her it had sent him on lone and moody walks; or he was kept awake +a great part of the night by the turmoil of spirit which such a +recognition created. If Mrs. Yeobright could only have been led to see +what a sound and worthy purpose this purpose of his was and how little +it was being affected by his devotions to Eustacia, how differently +would she regard him! + +Thus as his sight grew accustomed to the first blinding halo +kindled about him by love and beauty, Yeobright began to perceive +what a strait he was in. Sometimes he wished that he had never +known Eustacia, immediately to retract the wish as brutal. Three +antagonistic growths had to be kept alive: his mother's trust in him, +his plan for becoming a teacher, and Eustacia's happiness. His fervid +nature could not afford to relinquish one of these, though two of the +three were as many as he could hope to preserve. Though his love was +as chaste as that of Petrarch for his Laura, it had made fetters of +what previously was only a difficulty. A position which was not +too simple when he stood wholehearted had become indescribably +complicated by the addition of Eustacia. Just when his mother was +beginning to tolerate one scheme he had introduced another still +bitterer than the first, and the combination was more than she could +bear. + + + + +V + +Sharp Words Are Spoken, and a Crisis Ensues + + +When Yeobright was not with Eustacia he was sitting slavishly over +his books; when he was not reading he was meeting her. These meetings +were carried on with the greatest secrecy. + +One afternoon his mother came home from a morning visit to Thomasin. +He could see from a disturbance in the lines of her face that +something had happened. + +"I have been told an incomprehensible thing," she said mournfully. +"The captain has let out at the Woman that you and Eustacia Vye are +engaged to be married." + +"We are," said Yeobright. "But it may not be yet for a very long +time." + +"I should hardly think it WOULD be yet for a very long time! You will +take her to Paris, I suppose?" She spoke with weary hopelessness. + +"I am not going back to Paris." + +"What will you do with a wife, then?" + +"Keep a school in Budmouth, as I have told you." + +"That's incredible! The place is overrun with schoolmasters. You have +no special qualifications. What possible chance is there for such as +you?" + +"There is no chance of getting rich. But with my system of education, +which is as new as it is true, I shall do a great deal of good to my +fellow-creatures." + +"Dreams, dreams! If there had been any system left to be invented they +would have found it out at the universities long before this time." + +"Never, mother. They cannot find it out, because their teachers don't +come in contact with the class which demands such a system--that +is, those who have had no preliminary training. My plan is one for +instilling high knowledge into empty minds without first cramming them +with what has to be uncrammed again before true study begins." + +"I might have believed you if you had kept yourself free from +entanglements; but this woman--if she had been a good girl it would +have been bad enough; but being--" + +"She is a good girl." + +"So you think. A Corfu bandmaster's daughter! What has her life been? +Her surname even is not her true one." + +"She is Captain Vye's granddaughter, and her father merely took her +mother's name. And she is a lady by instinct." + +"They call him 'captain,' but anybody is captain." + +"He was in the Royal Navy!" + +"No doubt he has been to sea in some tub or other. Why doesn't he +look after her? No lady would rove about the heath at all hours of +the day and night as she does. But that's not all of it. There was +something queer between her and Thomasin's husband at one time--I am +as sure of it as that I stand here." + +"Eustacia has told me. He did pay her a little attention a year ago; +but there's no harm in that. I like her all the better." + +"Clym," said his mother with firmness, "I have no proofs against her, +unfortunately. But if she makes you a good wife, there has never been +a bad one." + +"Believe me, you are almost exasperating," said Yeobright vehemently. +"And this very day I had intended to arrange a meeting between you. +But you give me no peace; you try to thwart my wishes in everything." + +"I hate the thought of any son of mine marrying badly! I wish I had +never lived to see this; it is too much for me--it is more than I +dreamt!" She turned to the window. Her breath was coming quickly, and +her lips were pale, parted, and trembling. + +"Mother," said Clym, "whatever you do, you will always be dear to +me--that you know. But one thing I have a right to say, which is, +that at my age I am old enough to know what is best for me." + +Mrs. Yeobright remained for some time silent and shaken, as if she +could say no more. Then she replied, "Best? Is it best for you to +injure your prospects for such a voluptuous, idle woman as that? +Don't you see that by the very fact of your choosing her you prove +that you do not know what is best for you? You give up your whole +thought--you set your whole soul--to please a woman." + +"I do. And that woman is you." + +"How can you treat me so flippantly!" said his mother, turning again +to him with a tearful look. "You are unnatural, Clym, and I did not +expect it." + +"Very likely," said he cheerlessly. "You did not know the measure you +were going to mete me, and therefore did not know the measure that +would be returned to you again." + +"You answer me; you think only of her. You stick to her in all +things." + +"That proves her to be worthy. I have never yet supported what is +bad. And I do not care only for her. I care for you and for myself, +and for anything that is good. When a woman once dislikes another she +is merciless!" + +"O Clym! please don't go setting down as my fault what is your +obstinate wrong-headedness. If you wished to connect yourself with an +unworthy person why did you come home here to do it? Why didn't you +do it in Paris?--it is more the fashion there. You have come only to +distress me, a lonely woman, and shorten my days! I wish that you +would bestow your presence where you bestow your love!" + +Clym said huskily, "You are my mother. I will say no more--beyond +this, that I beg your pardon for having thought this my home. I will +no longer inflict myself upon you; I'll go." And he went out with +tears in his eyes. + +It was a sunny afternoon at the beginning of summer, and the moist +hollows of the heath had passed from their brown to their green stage. +Yeobright walked to the edge of the basin which extended down from +Mistover and Rainbarrow. By this time he was calm, and he looked +over the landscape. In the minor valleys, between the hillocks which +diversified the contour of the vale, the fresh young ferns were +luxuriantly growing up, ultimately to reach a height of five or six +feet. He descended a little way, flung himself down in a spot where a +path emerged from one of the small hollows, and waited. Hither it was +that he had promised Eustacia to bring his mother this afternoon, that +they might meet and be friends. His attempt had utterly failed. + +He was in a nest of vivid green. The ferny vegetation round him, +though so abundant, was quite uniform: it was a grove of machine-made +foliage, a world of green triangles with saw-edges, and not a single +flower. The air was warm with a vaporous warmth, and the stillness +was unbroken. Lizards, grasshoppers, and ants were the only living +things to be beheld. The scene seemed to belong to the ancient world +of the carboniferous period, when the forms of plants were few, and of +the fern kind; when there was neither bud nor blossom, nothing but a +monotonous extent of leafage, amid which no bird sang. + +When he had reclined for some considerable time, gloomily pondering, +he discerned above the ferns a drawn bonnet of white silk approaching +from the left, and Yeobright knew directly that it covered the head of +her he loved. His heart awoke from its apathy to a warm excitement, +and, jumping to his feet, he said aloud, "I knew she was sure to +come." + +She vanished in a hollow for a few moments, and then her whole form +unfolded itself from the brake. + +"Only you here?" she exclaimed, with a disappointed air, whose +hollowness was proved by her rising redness and her half-guilty low +laugh. "Where is Mrs. Yeobright?" + +"She has not come," he replied in a subdued tone. + +"I wish I had known that you would be here alone," she said seriously, +"and that we were going to have such an idle, pleasant time as this. +Pleasure not known beforehand is half wasted; to anticipate it is to +double it. I have not thought once today of having you all to myself +this afternoon, and the actual moment of a thing is so soon gone." + +"It is indeed." + +"Poor Clym!" she continued, looking tenderly into his face. "You are +sad. Something has happened at your home. Never mind what is--let us +only look at what seems." + +"But, darling, what shall we do?" said he. + +"Still go on as we do now--just live on from meeting to meeting, +never minding about another day. You, I know, are always thinking of +that--I can see you are. But you must not--will you, dear Clym?" + +"You are just like all women. They are ever content to build their +lives on any incidental position that offers itself; whilst men would +fain make a globe to suit them. Listen to this, Eustacia. There is a +subject I have determined to put off no longer. Your sentiment on the +wisdom of _Carpe diem_ does not impress me today. Our present mode of +life must shortly be brought to an end." + +"It is your mother!" + +"It is. I love you none the less in telling you; it is only right you +should know." + +"I have feared my bliss," she said, with the merest motion of her +lips. "It has been too intense and consuming." + +"There is hope yet. There are forty years of work in me yet, and why +should you despair? I am only at an awkward turning. I wish people +wouldn't be so ready to think that there is no progress without +uniformity." + +"Ah--your mind runs off to the philosophical side of it. Well, these +sad and hopeless obstacles are welcome in one sense, for they enable +us to look with indifference upon the cruel satires that Fate loves +to indulge in. I have heard of people, who, upon coming suddenly into +happiness, have died from anxiety lest they should not live to enjoy +it. I felt myself in that whimsical state of uneasiness lately; but I +shall be spared it now. Let us walk on." + +Clym took the hand which was already bared for him--it was a favourite +way with them to walk bare hand in bare hand--and led her through the +ferns. They formed a very comely picture of love at full flush, as +they walked along the valley that late afternoon, the sun sloping down +on their right, and throwing their thin spectral shadows, tall as +poplar trees, far out across the furze and fern. Eustacia went with +her head thrown back fancifully, a certain glad and voluptuous air of +triumph pervading her eyes at having won by her own unaided self a man +who was her perfect complement in attainment, appearance, and age. On +the young man's part, the paleness of face which he had brought with +him from Paris, and the incipient marks of time and thought, were +less perceptible than when he returned, the healthful and energetic +sturdiness which was his by nature having partially recovered its +original proportions. They wandered onward till they reached the +nether margin of the heath, where it became marshy and merged in +moorland. + +"I must part from you here, Clym," said Eustacia. + +They stood still and prepared to bid each other farewell. Everything +before them was on a perfect level. The sun, resting on the horizon +line, streamed across the ground from between copper-coloured and +lilac clouds, stretched out in flats beneath a sky of pale soft green. +All dark objects on the earth that lay towards the sun were overspread +by a purple haze, against which groups of wailing gnats shone out, +rising upwards and dancing about like sparks of fire. + +"O! this leaving you is too hard to bear!" exclaimed Eustacia in a +sudden whisper of anguish. "Your mother will influence you too much; +I shall not be judged fairly, it will get afloat that I am not a good +girl, and the witch story will be added to make me blacker!" + +"They cannot. Nobody dares to speak disrespectfully of you or of me." + +"Oh how I wish I was sure of never losing you--that you could not be +able to desert me anyhow!" + +Clym stood silent a moment. His feelings were high, the moment was +passionate, and he cut the knot. + +"You shall be sure of me, darling," he said, folding her in his arms. +"We will be married at once." + +"O Clym!" + +"Do you agree to it?" + +"If--if we can." + +"We certainly can, both being of full age. And I have not followed my +occupation all these years without having accumulated money; and if +you will agree to live in a tiny cottage somewhere on the heath, until +I take a house in Budmouth for the school, we can do it at a very +little expense." + +"How long shall we have to live in the tiny cottage, Clym?" + +"About six months. At the end of that time I shall have finished my +reading--yes, we will do it, and this heartaching will be over. We +shall, of course, live in absolute seclusion, and our married life +will only begin to outward view when we take the house in Budmouth, +where I have already addressed a letter on the matter. Would your +grandfather allow you?" + +"I think he would--on the understanding that it should not last longer +than six months." + +"I will guarantee that, if no misfortune happens." + +"If no misfortune happens," she repeated slowly. + +"Which is not likely. Dearest, fix the exact day." + +And then they consulted on the question, and the day was chosen. It +was to be a fortnight from that time. + +This was the end of their talk, and Eustacia left him. Clym watched +her as she retired towards the sun. The luminous rays wrapped her up +with her increasing distance, and the rustle of her dress over the +sprouting sedge and grass died away. As he watched, the dead flat +of the scenery overpowered him, though he was fully alive to the +beauty of that untarnished early summer green which was worn for the +nonce by the poorest blade. There was something in its oppressive +horizontality which too much reminded him of the arena of life; it +gave him a sense of bare equality with, and no superiority to, a +single living thing under the sun. + +Eustacia was now no longer the goddess but the woman to him, a being +to fight for, support, help, be maligned for. Now that he had reached +a cooler moment he would have preferred a less hasty marriage; but +the card was laid, and he determined to abide by the game. Whether +Eustacia was to add one other to the list of those who love too hotly +to love long and well, the forthcoming event was certainly a ready way +of proving. + + + + +VI + +Yeobright Goes, and the Breach Is Complete + + +All that evening smart sounds denoting an active packing up came from +Yeobright's room to the ears of his mother downstairs. + +Next morning he departed from the house and again proceeded across the +heath. A long day's march was before him, his object being to secure +a dwelling to which he might take Eustacia when she became his wife. +Such a house, small, secluded, and with its windows boarded up, he had +casually observed a month earlier, about two miles beyond the village +of East Egdon, and six miles distant altogether; and thither he +directed his steps today. + +The weather was far different from that of the evening before. The +yellow and vapoury sunset which had wrapped up Eustacia from his +parting gaze had presaged change. It was one of those not infrequent +days of an English June which are as wet and boisterous as November. +The cold clouds hastened on in a body, as if painted on a moving +slide. Vapours from other continents arrived upon the wind, which +curled and parted round him as he walked on. + +At length Clym reached the margin of a fir and beech plantation that +had been enclosed from heath land in the year of his birth. Here +the trees, laden heavily with their new and humid leaves, were now +suffering more damage than during the highest winds of winter, +when the boughs are especially disencumbered to do battle with the +storm. The wet young beeches were undergoing amputations, bruises, +cripplings, and harsh lacerations, from which the wasting sap would +bleed for many a day to come, and which would leave scars visible till +the day of their burning. Each stem was wrenched at the root, where +it moved like a bone in its socket, and at every onset of the gale +convulsive sounds came from the branches, as if pain were felt. In a +neighbouring brake a finch was trying to sing; but the wind blew under +his feathers till they stood on end, twisted round his little tail, +and made him give up his song. + +Yet a few yards to Yeobright's left, on the open heath, how +ineffectively gnashed the storm! Those gusts which tore the trees +merely waved the furze and heather in a light caress. Egdon was made +for such times as these. + +Yeobright reached the empty house about mid-day. It was almost as +lonely as that of Eustacia's grandfather, but the fact that it stood +near a heath was disguised by a belt of firs which almost enclosed +the premises. He journeyed on about a mile further to the village +in which the owner lived, and, returning with him to the house, +arrangements were completed, and the man undertook that one room at +least should be ready for occupation the next day. Clym's intention +was to live there alone until Eustacia should join him on their +wedding day. + +Then he turned to pursue his way homeward through the drizzle that had +so greatly transformed the scene. The ferns, among which he had lain +in comfort yesterday, were dripping moisture from every frond, wetting +his legs through as he brushed past; and the fur of the rabbits +leaping before him was clotted into dark locks by the same watery +surrounding. + +He reached home damp and weary enough after his ten-mile walk. It +had hardly been a propitious beginning, but he had chosen his course, +and would show no swerving. The evening and the following morning +were spent in concluding arrangements for his departure. To stay at +home a minute longer than necessary after having once come to his +determination would be, he felt, only to give new pain to his mother +by some word, look, or deed. + +He had hired a conveyance and sent off his goods by two o'clock that +day. The next step was to get some furniture, which, after serving +for temporary use in the cottage, would be available for the house +at Budmouth when increased by goods of a better description. A mart +extensive enough for the purpose existed at Anglebury, some miles +beyond the spot chosen for his residence, and there he resolved to +pass the coming night. + +It now only remained to wish his mother good-bye. She was sitting by +the window as usual when he came downstairs. + +"Mother, I am going to leave you," he said, holding out his hand. + +"I thought you were, by your packing," replied Mrs. Yeobright in a +voice from which every particle of emotion was painfully excluded. + +"And you will part friends with me?" + +"Certainly, Clym." + +"I am going to be married on the twenty-fifth." + +"I thought you were going to be married." + +"And then--and then you must come and see us. You will understand me +better after that, and our situation will not be so wretched as it is +now." + +"I do not think it likely I shall come to see you." + +"Then it will not be my fault or Eustacia's, mother. Good-bye!" + +He kissed her cheek, and departed in great misery, which was several +hours in lessening itself to a controllable level. The position had +been such that nothing more could be said without, in the first place, +breaking down a barrier; and that was not to be done. + +No sooner had Yeobright gone from his mother's house than her face +changed its rigid aspect for one of blank despair. After a while she +wept, and her tears brought some relief. During the rest of the day +she did nothing but walk up and down the garden path in a state +bordering on stupefaction. Night came, and with it but little rest. +The next day, with an instinct to do something which should reduce +prostration to mournfulness, she went to her son's room, and with her +own hands arranged it in order, for an imaginary time when he should +return again. She gave some attention to her flowers, but it was +perfunctorily bestowed, for they no longer charmed her. + +It was a great relief when, early in the afternoon, Thomasin paid +her an unexpected visit. This was not the first meeting between the +relatives since Thomasin's marriage; and past blunders having been +in a rough way rectified, they could always greet each other with +pleasure and ease. + +The oblique band of sunlight which followed her through the door +became the young wife well. It illuminated her as her presence +illuminated the heath. In her movements, in her gaze, she reminded +the beholder of the feathered creatures who lived around her home. +All similes and allegories concerning her began and ended with birds. +There was as much variety in her motions as in their flight. When she +was musing she was a kestrel, which hangs in the air by an invisible +motion of its wings. When she was in a high wind her light body was +blown against trees and banks like a heron's. When she was frightened +she darted noiselessly like a kingfisher. When she was serene she +skimmed like a swallow, and that is how she was moving now. + +"You are looking very blithe, upon my word, Tamsie," said Mrs. +Yeobright, with a sad smile. "How is Damon?" + +"He is very well." + +"Is he kind to you, Thomasin?" And Mrs. Yeobright observed her +narrowly. + +"Pretty fairly." + +"Is that honestly said?" + +"Yes, aunt. I would tell you if he were unkind." She added, blushing, +and with hesitation, "He--I don't know if I ought to complain to you +about this, but I am not quite sure what to do. I want some money, +you know, aunt--some to buy little things for myself--and he doesn't +give me any. I don't like to ask him; and yet, perhaps, he doesn't +give it me because he doesn't know. Ought I to mention it to him, +aunt?" + +"Of course you ought. Have you never said a word on the matter?" + +"You see, I had some of my own," said Thomasin evasively, "and I have +not wanted any of his until lately. I did just say something about it +last week; but he seems--not to remember." + +"He must be made to remember. You are aware that I have a little box +full of spade-guineas, which your uncle put into my hands to divide +between yourself and Clym whenever I chose. Perhaps the time has come +when it should be done. They can be turned into sovereigns at any +moment." + +"I think I should like to have my share--that is, if you don't mind." + +"You shall, if necessary. But it is only proper that you should first +tell your husband distinctly that you are without any, and see what he +will do." + +"Very well, I will... Aunt, I have heard about Clym. I know you are +in trouble about him, and that's why I have come." + +Mrs. Yeobright turned away, and her features worked in her attempt to +conceal her feelings. Then she ceased to make any attempt, and said, +weeping, "O Thomasin, do you think he hates me? How can he bear to +grieve me so, when I have lived only for him through all these years?" + +"Hate you--no," said Thomasin soothingly. "It is only that he loves +her too well. Look at it quietly--do. It is not so very bad of him. +Do you know, I thought it not the worst match he could have made. +Miss Vye's family is a good one on her mother's side; and her father +was a romantic wanderer--a sort of Greek Ulysses." + +"It is no use, Thomasin; it is no use. Your intention is good; but +I will not trouble you to argue. I have gone through the whole that +can be said on either side times, and many times. Clym and I have +not parted in anger; we have parted in a worse way. It is not a +passionate quarrel that would have broken my heart; it is the steady +opposition and persistence in going wrong that he has shown. O +Thomasin, he was so good as a little boy--so tender and kind!" + +"He was, I know." + +"I did not think one whom I called mine would grow up to treat me like +this. He spoke to me as if I opposed him to injure him. As though I +could wish him ill!" + +"There are worse women in the world than Eustacia Vye." + +"There are too many better; that's the agony of it. It was she, +Thomasin, and she only, who led your husband to act as he did: I would +swear it!" + +"No," said Thomasin eagerly. "It was before he knew me that he +thought of her, and it was nothing but a mere flirtation." + +"Very well; we will let it be so. There is little use in unravelling +that now. Sons must be blind if they will. Why is it that a woman +can see from a distance what a man cannot see close? Clym must do as +he will--he is nothing more to me. And this is maternity--to give +one's best years and best love to ensure the fate of being despised!" + +"You are too unyielding. Think how many mothers there are whose sons +have brought them to public shame by real crimes before you feel so +deeply a case like this." + +"Thomasin, don't lecture me--I can't have it. It is the excess above +what we expect that makes the force of the blow, and that may not +be greater in their case than in mine: they may have foreseen the +worst... I am wrongly made, Thomasin," she added, with a mournful +smile. "Some widows can guard against the wounds their children give +them by turning their hearts to another husband and beginning life +again. But I always was a poor, weak, one-idea'd creature--I had not +the compass of heart nor the enterprise for that. Just as forlorn and +stupefied as I was when my husband's spirit flew away I have sat ever +since--never attempting to mend matters at all. I was comparatively a +young woman then, and I might have had another family by this time, +and have been comforted by them for the failure of this one son." + +"It is more noble in you that you did not." + +"The more noble, the less wise." + +"Forget it, and be soothed, dear aunt. And I shall not leave you +alone for long. I shall come and see you every day." + +And for one week Thomasin literally fulfilled her word. She +endeavoured to make light of the wedding; and brought news of the +preparations, and that she was invited to be present. The next week +she was rather unwell, and did not appear. Nothing had as yet been +done about the guineas, for Thomasin feared to address her husband +again on the subject, and Mrs. Yeobright had insisted upon this. + + + +One day just before this time Wildeve was standing at the door of +the Quiet Woman. In addition to the upward path through the heath to +Rainbarrow and Mistover, there was a road which branched from the +highway a short distance below the inn, and ascended to Mistover by a +circuitous and easy incline. This was the only route on that side for +vehicles to the captain's retreat. A light cart from the nearest town +descended the road, and the lad who was driving pulled up in front of +the inn for something to drink. + +"You come from Mistover?" said Wildeve. + +"Yes. They are taking in good things up there. Going to be a +wedding." And the driver buried his face in his mug. + +Wildeve had not received an inkling of the fact before, and a sudden +expression of pain overspread his face. He turned for a moment into +the passage to hide it. Then he came back again. + +"Do you mean Miss Vye?" he said. "How is it--that she can be married +so soon?" + +"By the will of God and a ready young man, I suppose." + +"You don't mean Mr. Yeobright?" + +"Yes. He has been creeping about with her all the spring." + +"I suppose--she was immensely taken with him?" + +"She is crazy about him, so their general servant of all work tells +me. And that lad Charley that looks after the horse is all in a daze +about it. The stun-poll has got fondlike of her." + +"Is she lively--is she glad? Going to be married so soon--well!" + +"It isn't so very soon." + +"No; not so very soon." + +Wildeve went indoors to the empty room, a curious heartache within +him. He rested his elbow upon the mantelpiece and his face upon his +hand. When Thomasin entered the room he did not tell her of what +he had heard. The old longing for Eustacia had reappeared in his +soul; and it was mainly because he had discovered that it was another +man's intention to possess her. + +To be yearning for the difficult, to be weary of that offered; to care +for the remote, to dislike the near; it was Wildeve's nature always. +This is the true mark of the man of sentiment. Though Wildeve's +fevered feeling had not been elaborated to real poetical compass, it +was of the standard sort. He might have been called the Rousseau of +Egdon. + + + + +VII + +The Morning and the Evening of a Day + + +The wedding morning came. Nobody would have imagined from appearances +that Blooms-End had any interest in Mistover that day. A solemn +stillness prevailed around the house of Clym's mother, and there +was no more animation indoors. Mrs. Yeobright, who had declined to +attend the ceremony, sat by the breakfast table in the old room which +communicated immediately with the porch, her eyes listlessly directed +towards the open door. It was the room in which, six months earlier, +the merry Christmas party had met, to which Eustacia came secretly and +as a stranger. The only living thing that entered now was a sparrow; +and seeing no movements to cause alarm, he hopped boldly round the +room, endeavoured to go out by the window, and fluttered among the +pot-flowers. This roused the lonely sitter, who got up, released +the bird, and went to the door. She was expecting Thomasin, who had +written the night before to state that the time had come when she +would wish to have the money, and that she would if possible call this +day. + +Yet Thomasin occupied Mrs. Yeobright's thoughts but slightly as she +looked up the valley of the heath, alive with butterflies, and with +grasshoppers whose husky noises on every side formed a whispered +chorus. A domestic drama, for which the preparations were now being +made a mile or two off, was but little less vividly present to her +eyes than if enacted before her. She tried to dismiss the vision, and +walked about the garden plot; but her eyes ever and anon sought out +the direction of the parish church to which Mistover belonged, and +her excited fancy clove the hills which divided the building from +her eyes. The morning wore away. Eleven o'clock struck: could it +be that the wedding was then in progress? It must be so. She went +on imagining the scene at the church, which he had by this time +approached with his bride. She pictured the little group of children +by the gate as the pony-carriage drove up in which, as Thomasin had +learnt, they were going to perform the short journey. Then she saw +them enter and proceed to the chancel and kneel; and the service +seemed to go on. + +She covered her face with her hands. "O, it is a mistake!" she +groaned. "And he will rue it some day, and think of me!" + +While she remained thus, overcome by her forebodings, the old clock +indoors whizzed forth twelve strokes. Soon after, faint sounds floated +to her ear from afar over the hills. The breeze came from that +quarter, and it had brought with it the notes of distant bells, gaily +starting off in a peal: one, two, three, four, five. The ringers at +East Egdon were announcing the nuptials of Eustacia and her son. + +"Then it is over," she murmured. "Well, well! and life too will be +over soon. And why should I go on scalding my face like this? Cry +about one thing in life, cry about all; one thread runs through the +whole piece. And yet we say, 'a time to laugh!'" + +Towards evening Wildeve came. Since Thomasin's marriage Mrs. Yeobright +had shown towards him that grim friendliness which at last arises in +all such cases of undesired affinity. The vision of what ought to +have been is thrown aside in sheer weariness, and browbeaten human +endeavour listlessly makes the best of the fact that is. Wildeve, to +do him justice, had behaved very courteously to his wife's aunt; and +it was with no surprise that she saw him enter now. + +"Thomasin has not been able to come, as she promised to do," he +replied to her inquiry, which had been anxious, for she knew that +her niece was badly in want of money. "The captain came down last +night and personally pressed her to join them today. So, not to be +unpleasant, she determined to go. They fetched her in the pony-chaise, +and are going to bring her back." + +"Then it is done," said Mrs. Yeobright. "Have they gone to their new +home?" + +"I don't know. I have had no news from Mistover since Thomasin left +to go." + +"You did not go with her?" said she, as if there might be good reasons +why. + +"I could not," said Wildeve, reddening slightly. "We could not both +leave the house; it was rather a busy morning, on account of Anglebury +Great Market. I believe you have something to give to Thomasin? If +you like, I will take it." + +Mrs. Yeobright hesitated, and wondered if Wildeve knew what the +something was. "Did she tell you of this?" she inquired. + +"Not particularly. She casually dropped a remark about having +arranged to fetch some article or other." + +"It is hardly necessary to send it. She can have it whenever she +chooses to come." + +"That won't be yet. In the present state of her health she must not +go on walking so much as she has done." He added, with a faint twang +of sarcasm, "What wonderful thing is it that I cannot be trusted to +take?" + +"Nothing worth troubling you with." + +"One would think you doubted my honesty," he said, with a laugh, +though his colour rose in a quick resentfulness frequent with him. + +"You need think no such thing," said she drily. "It is simply that +I, in common with the rest of the world, feel that there are certain +things which had better be done by certain people than by others." + +"As you like, as you like," said Wildeve laconically. "It is not +worth arguing about. Well, I think I must turn homeward again, as the +inn must not be left long in charge of the lad and the maid only." + +He went his way, his farewell being scarcely so courteous as his +greeting. But Mrs. Yeobright knew him thoroughly by this time, and +took little notice of his manner, good or bad. + +When Wildeve was gone Mrs. Yeobright stood and considered what would +be the best course to adopt with regard to the guineas, which she had +not liked to entrust to Wildeve. It was hardly credible that Thomasin +had told him to ask for them, when the necessity for them had arisen +from the difficulty of obtaining money at his hands. At the same time +Thomasin really wanted them, and might be unable to come to Blooms-End +for another week at least. To take or send the money to her at the +inn would be impolite, since Wildeve would pretty surely be present, +or would discover the transaction; and if, as her aunt suspected, he +treated her less kindly than she deserved to be treated, he might then +get the whole sum out of her gentle hands. But on this particular +evening Thomasin was at Mistover, and anything might be conveyed to +her there without the knowledge of her husband. Upon the whole the +opportunity was worth taking advantage of. + +Her son, too, was there, and was now married. There could be no more +proper moment to render him his share of the money than the present. +And the chance that would be afforded her, by sending him this gift, +of showing how far she was from bearing him ill-will, cheered the sad +mother's heart. + +She went upstairs and took from a locked drawer a little box, out of +which she poured a hoard of broad unworn guineas that had lain there +many a year. There were a hundred in all, and she divided them into +two heaps, fifty in each. Tying up these in small canvas bags, she +went down to the garden and called to Christian Cantle, who was +loitering about in hope of a supper which was not really owed him. +Mrs. Yeobright gave him the moneybags, charged him to go to Mistover, +and on no account to deliver them into any one's hands save her son's +and Thomasin's. On further thought she deemed it advisable to tell +Christian precisely what the two bags contained, that he might +be fully impressed with their importance. Christian pocketed the +money-bags, promised the greatest carefulness, and set out on his way. + +"You need not hurry," said Mrs. Yeobright. "It will be better not to +get there till after dusk, and then nobody will notice you. Come back +here to supper, if it is not too late." + +It was nearly nine o'clock when he began to ascend the vale towards +Mistover; but the long days of summer being at their climax, the first +obscurity of evening had only just begun to tan the landscape. At +this point of his journey Christian heard voices, and found that they +proceeded from a company of men and women who were traversing a hollow +ahead of him, the tops only of their heads being visible. + +He paused and thought of the money he carried. It was almost too +early even for Christian seriously to fear robbery; nevertheless he +took a precaution which ever since his boyhood he had adopted whenever +he carried more than two or three shillings upon his person--a +precaution somewhat like that of the owner of the Pitt Diamond when +filled with similar misgivings. He took off his boots, untied the +guineas, and emptied the contents of one little bag into the right +boot, and of the other into the left, spreading them as flatly as +possible over the bottom of each, which was really a spacious coffer +by no means limited to the size of the foot. Pulling them on again +and lacing them to the very top, he proceeded on his way, more easy +in his head than under his soles. + +His path converged towards that of the noisy company, and on coming +nearer he found to his relief that they were several Egdon people whom +he knew very well, while with them walked Fairway, of Blooms-End. + +"What! Christian going too?" said Fairway as soon as he recognized the +newcomer. "You've got no young woman nor wife to your name to gie a +gown-piece to, I'm sure." + +"What d'ye mean?" said Christian. + +"Why, the raffle. The one we go to every year. Going to the raffle +as well as ourselves?" + +"Never knew a word o't. Is it like cudgel-playing or other sportful +forms of bloodshed? I don't want to go, thank you, Mister Fairway, +and no offence." + +"Christian don't know the fun o't, and 'twould be a fine sight for +him," said a buxom woman. "There's no danger at all, Christian. +Every man puts in a shilling apiece, and one wins a gown-piece for +his wife or sweetheart if he's got one." + +"Well, as that's not my fortune there's no meaning in it to me. But I +should like to see the fun, if there's nothing of the black art in it, +and if a man may look on without cost or getting into any dangerous +wrangle?" + +"There will be no uproar at all," said Timothy. "Sure, Christian, if +you'd like to come we'll see there's no harm done." + +"And no ba'dy gaieties, I suppose? You see, neighbours, if so, it +would be setting father a bad example, as he is so light moral'd. But +a gown-piece for a shilling, and no black art--'tis worth looking +in to see, and it wouldn't hinder me half an hour. Yes, I'll come, +if you'll step a little way towards Mistover with me afterwards, +supposing night should have closed in, and nobody else is going that +way?" + +One or two promised; and Christian, diverging from his direct path, +turned round to the right with his companions towards the Quiet Woman. + +When they entered the large common room of the inn they found +assembled there about ten men from among the neighbouring population, +and the group was increased by the new contingent to double that +number. Most of them were sitting round the room in seats divided by +wooden elbows like those of crude cathedral stalls, which were carved +with the initials of many an illustrious drunkard of former times who +had passed his days and his nights between them, and now lay as an +alcoholic cinder in the nearest churchyard. Among the cups on the +long table before the sitters lay an open parcel of light drapery--the +gown-piece, as it was called--which was to be raffled for. Wildeve +was standing with his back to the fireplace smoking a cigar; and the +promoter of the raffle, a packman from a distant town, was expatiating +upon the value of the fabric as material for a summer dress. + +"Now, gentlemen," he continued, as the newcomers drew up to the table, +"there's five have entered, and we want four more to make up the +number. I think, by the faces of those gentlemen who have just come +in, that they are shrewd enough to take advantage of this rare +opportunity of beautifying their ladies at a very trifling expense." + +Fairway, Sam, and another placed their shillings on the table, and the +man turned to Christian. + +"No, sir," said Christian, drawing back, with a quick gaze of +misgiving. "I am only a poor chap come to look on, an it please ye, +sir. I don't so much as know how you do it. If so be I was sure of +getting it I would put down the shilling; but I couldn't otherwise." + +"I think you might almost be sure," said the pedlar. "In fact, now I +look into your face, even if I can't say you are sure to win, I can +say that I never saw anything look more like winning in my life." + +"You'll anyhow have the same chance as the rest of us," said Sam. + +"And the extra luck of being the last comer," said another. + +"And I was born wi' a caul, and perhaps can be no more ruined than +drowned?" Christian added, beginning to give way. + +Ultimately Christian laid down his shilling, the raffle began, and +the dice went round. When it came to Christian's turn he took the box +with a trembling hand, shook it fearfully, and threw a pair-royal. +Three of the others had thrown common low pairs, and all the rest mere +points. + +"The gentleman looked like winning, as I said," observed the chapman +blandly. "Take it, sir; the article is yours." + +"Haw-haw-haw!" said Fairway. "I'm damned if this isn't the quarest +start that ever I knowed!" + +"Mine?" asked Christian, with a vacant stare from his target eyes. +"I--I haven't got neither maid, wife, nor widder belonging to me at +all, and I'm afeard it will make me laughed at to ha'e it, Master +Traveller. What with being curious to join in I never thought of that! +What shall I do wi' a woman's clothes in my bedroom, and not lose my +decency!" + +"Keep 'em, to be sure," said Fairway, "if it is only for luck. +Perhaps 'twill tempt some woman that thy poor carcase had no power +over when standing empty-handed." + +"Keep it, certainly," said Wildeve, who had idly watched the scene +from a distance. + +The table was then cleared of the articles, and the men began to +drink. + +"Well, to be sure!" said Christian, half to himself. "To think I +should have been born so lucky as this, and not have found it out +until now! What curious creatures these dice be--powerful rulers of +us all, and yet at my command! I am sure I never need be afeared of +anything after this." He handled the dice fondly one by one. "Why, +sir," he said in a confidential whisper to Wildeve, who was near his +left hand, "if I could only use this power that's in me of multiplying +money I might do some good to a near relation of yours, seeing what +I've got about me of hers--eh?" He tapped one of his money-laden boots +upon the floor. + +"What do you mean?" said Wildeve. + +"That's a secret. Well, I must be going now." He looked anxiously +towards Fairway. + +"Where are you going?" Wildeve asked. + +"To Mistover Knap. I have to see Mrs. Thomasin there--that's all." + +"I am going there, too, to fetch Mrs. Wildeve. We can walk together." + +Wildeve became lost in thought, and a look of inward illumination came +into his eyes. It was money for his wife that Mrs. Yeobright could +not trust him with. "Yet she could trust this fellow," he said to +himself. "Why doesn't that which belongs to the wife belong to the +husband too?" + +He called to the pot-boy to bring him his hat, and said, "Now, +Christian, I am ready." + +"Mr. Wildeve," said Christian timidly, as he turned to leave the room, +"would you mind lending me them wonderful little things that carry my +luck inside 'em, that I might practise a bit by myself, you know?" He +looked wistfully at the dice and box lying on the mantlepiece. + +"Certainly," said Wildeve carelessly. "They were only cut out by some +lad with his knife, and are worth nothing." And Christian went back +and privately pocketed them. + +Wildeve opened the door and looked out. The night was warm and +cloudy. "By Gad! 'tis dark," he continued. "But I suppose we shall +find our way." + +"If we should lose the path it might be awkward," said Christian. "A +lantern is the only shield that will make it safe for us." + +"Let's have a lantern by all means." The stable lantern was fetched +and lighted. Christian took up his gownpiece, and the two set out to +ascend the hill. + +Within the room the men fell into chat till their attention was for a +moment drawn to the chimney-corner. This was large, and, in addition +to its proper recess, contained within its jambs, like many on +Egdon, a receding seat, so that a person might sit there absolutely +unobserved, provided there was no fire to light him up, as was the +case now and throughout the summer. From the niche a single object +protruded into the light from the candles on the table. It was a clay +pipe, and its colour was reddish. The men had been attracted to this +object by a voice behind the pipe asking for a light. + +"Upon my life, it fairly startled me when the man spoke!" said +Fairway, handing a candle. "Oh--'tis the reddleman! You've kept a +quiet tongue, young man." + +"Yes, I had nothing to say," observed Venn. In a few minutes he arose +and wished the company good night. + +Meanwhile Wildeve and Christian had plunged into the heath. + +It was a stagnant, warm, and misty night, full of all the heavy +perfumes of new vegetation not yet dried by hot sun, and among +these particularly the scent of the fern. The lantern, dangling +from Christian's hand, brushed the feathery fronds in passing by, +disturbing moths and other winged insects, which flew out and alighted +upon its horny panes. + +"So you have money to carry to Mrs. Wildeve?" said Christian's +companion, after a silence. "Don't you think it very odd that it +shouldn't be given to me?" + +"As man and wife be one flesh, 'twould have been all the same, I +should think," said Christian. "But my strict documents was, to give +the money into Mrs. Wildeve's hand--and 'tis well to do things right." + +"No doubt," said Wildeve. Any person who had known the circumstances +might have perceived that Wildeve was mortified by the discovery that +the matter in transit was money, and not, as he had supposed when at +Blooms-End, some fancy nick-nack which only interested the two women +themselves. Mrs. Yeobright's refusal implied that his honour was not +considered to be of sufficiently good quality to make him a safer +bearer of his wife's property. + +"How very warm it is tonight, Christian!" he said, panting, when they +were nearly under Rainbarrow. "Let us sit down for a few minutes, for +Heaven's sake." + +Wildeve flung himself down on the soft ferns; and Christian, placing +the lantern and parcel on the ground, perched himself in a cramped +position hard by, his knees almost touching his chin. He presently +thrust one hand into his coat-pocket and began shaking it about. + +"What are you rattling in there?" said Wildeve. + +"Only the dice, sir," said Christian, quickly withdrawing his hand. +"What magical machines these little things be, Mr. Wildeve! 'Tis a +game I should never get tired of. Would you mind my taking 'em out +and looking at 'em for a minute, to see how they are made? I didn't +like to look close before the other men, for fear they should think it +bad manners in me." Christian took them out and examined them in the +hollow of his hand by the lantern light. "That these little things +should carry such luck, and such charm, and such a spell, and such +power in 'em, passes all I ever heard or zeed," he went on, with a +fascinated gaze at the dice, which, as is frequently the case in +country places, were made of wood, the points being burnt upon each +face with the end of a wire. + +"They are a great deal in a small compass, You think?" + +"Yes. Do ye suppose they really be the devil's playthings, Mr. +Wildeve? If so, 'tis no good sign that I be such a lucky man." + +"You ought to win some money, now that you've got them. Any woman +would marry you then. Now is your time, Christian, and I would +recommend you not to let it slip. Some men are born to luck, some are +not. I belong to the latter class." + +"Did you ever know anybody who was born to it besides myself?" + +"O yes. I once heard of an Italian, who sat down at a gaming table +with only a louis (that's a foreign sovereign) in his pocket. He +played on for twenty-four hours, and won ten thousand pounds, +stripping the bank he had played against. Then there was another man +who had lost a thousand pounds, and went to the broker's next day to +sell stock, that he might pay the debt. The man to whom he owed the +money went with him in a hackney-coach; and to pass the time they +tossed who should pay the fare. The ruined man won, and the other was +tempted to continue the game, and they played all the way. When the +coachman stopped he was told to drive home again: the whole thousand +pounds had been won back by the man who was going to sell." + +"Ha--ha--splendid!" exclaimed Christian. "Go on--go on!" + +"Then there was a man of London, who was only a waiter at White's +clubhouse. He began playing first half-crown stakes, and then higher +and higher, till he became very rich, got an appointment in India, +and rose to be Governor of Madras. His daughter married a member of +Parliament, and the Bishop of Carlisle stood godfather to one of the +children." + +"Wonderful! wonderful!" + +"And once there was a young man in America who gambled till he had +lost his last dollar. He staked his watch and chain, and lost as +before; staked his umbrella, lost again; staked his hat, lost again; +staked his coat and stood in his shirt-sleeve; lost again. Began +taking off his breeches, and then a looker-on gave him a trifle for +his pluck. With this he won. Won back his coat, won back his hat, +won back his umbrella, his watch, his money, and went out of the door +a rich man." + +"Oh, 'tis too good--it takes away my breath! Mr. Wildeve, I think +I will try another shilling with you, as I am one of that sort; no +danger can come o't, and you can afford to lose." + +"Very well," said Wildeve, rising. Searching about with the lantern, +he found a large flat stone, which he placed between himself and +Christian, and sat down again. The lantern was opened to give more +light, and it's rays directed upon the stone. Christian put down +a shilling, Wildeve another, and each threw. Christian won. They +played for two, Christian won again. + +"Let us try four," said Wildeve. They played for four. This time the +stakes were won by Wildeve. + +"Ah, those little accidents will, of course, sometimes happen, to the +luckiest man," he observed. + +"And now I have no more money!" explained Christian excitedly. "And +yet, if I could go on, I should get it back again, and more. I wish +this was mine." He struck his boot upon the ground, so that the +guineas chinked within. + +"What! you have not put Mrs. Wildeve's money there?" + +"Yes. 'Tis for safety. Is it any harm to raffle with a married lady's +money when, if I win, I shall only keep my winnings, and give her her +own all the same; and if t'other man wins, her money will go to the +lawful owner?" + +"None at all." + +Wildeve had been brooding ever since they started on the mean +estimation in which he was held by his wife's friends; and it cut his +heart severely. As the minutes passed he had gradually drifted into a +revengeful intention without knowing the precise moment of forming it. +This was to teach Mrs. Yeobright a lesson, as he considered it to be; +in other words, to show her if he could, that her niece's husband was +the proper guardian of her niece's money. + +"Well, here goes!" said Christian, beginning to unlace one boot. "I +shall dream of it nights and nights, I suppose; but I shall always +swear my flesh don't crawl when I think o't!" + +He thrust his hand into the boot and withdrew one of poor Thomasin's +precious guineas, piping hot. Wildeve had already placed a sovereign +on the stone. The game was then resumed. Wildeve won first, and +Christian ventured another, winning himself this time. The game +fluctuated, but the average was in Wildeve's favour. Both men became +so absorbed in the game that they took no heed of anything but the +pigmy objects immediately beneath their eyes, the flat stone, the open +lantern, the dice, and the few illuminated fern-leaves which lay under +the light, were the whole world to them. + +At length Christian lost rapidly; and presently, to his horror, the +whole fifty guineas belonging to Thomasin had been handed over to his +adversary. + +"I don't care--I don't care!" he moaned, and desperately set about +untying his left boot to get at the other fifty. "The devil will toss +me into the flames on his three-pronged fork for this night's work, +I know! But perhaps I shall win yet, and then I'll get a wife to sit +up with me o' nights, and I won't be afeard, I won't! Here's another +for'ee, my man!" He slapped another guinea down upon the stone, and +the dice-box was rattled again. + +Time passed on. Wildeve began to be as excited as Christian himself. +When commencing the game his intention had been nothing further than +a bitter practical joke on Mrs. Yeobright. To win the money, fairly +or otherwise, and to hand it contemptuously to Thomasin in her aunt's +presence, had been the dim outline of his purpose. But men are drawn +from their intentions even in the course of carrying them out, and +it was extremely doubtful, by the time the twentieth guinea had been +reached, whether Wildeve was conscious of any other intention than +that of winning for his own personal benefit. Moreover, he was now no +longer gambling for his wife's money, but for Yeobright's; though of +this fact Christian, in his apprehensiveness, did not inform him till +afterwards. + +It was nearly eleven o'clock, when, with almost a shriek, Christian +placed Yeobright's last gleaming guinea upon the stone. In thirty +seconds it had gone the way of its companions. + +Christian turned and flung himself on the ferns in a convulsion of +remorse, "O, what shall I do with my wretched self?" he groaned. +"What shall I do? Will any good Heaven hae mercy upon my wicked +soul?" + +"Do? Live on just the same." + +"I won't live on just the same! I'll die! I say you are a--a--" + +"A man sharper than my neighbour." + +"Yes, a man sharper than my neighbour; a regular sharper!" + +"Poor chips-in-porridge, you are very unmannerly." + +"I don't know about that! And I say you be unmannerly! You've got +money that isn't your own. Half the guineas are poor Mr. Clym's." + +"How's that?" + +"Because I had to gie fifty of 'em to him. Mrs. Yeobright said so." + +"Oh?... Well, 'twould have been more graceful of her to have given +them to his wife Eustacia. But they are in my hands now." + +Christian pulled on his boots, and with heavy breathings, which could +be heard to some distance, dragged his limbs together, arose, and +tottered away out of sight. Wildeve set about shutting the lantern to +return to the house, for he deemed it too late to go to Mistover to +meet his wife, who was to be driven home in the captain's four-wheel. +While he was closing the little horn door a figure rose from behind a +neighbouring bush and came forward into the lantern light. It was the +reddleman approaching. + + + + +VIII + +A New Force Disturbs the Current + + +Wildeve stared. Venn looked coolly towards Wildeve, and, without a +word being spoken, he deliberately sat himself down where Christian +had been seated, thrust his hand into his pocket, drew out a +sovereign, and laid it on the stone. + +"You have been watching us from behind that bush?" said Wildeve. + +The reddleman nodded. "Down with your stake," he said. "Or haven't +you pluck enough to go on?" + +Now, gambling is a species of amusement which is much more easily +begun with full pockets than left off with the same; and though +Wildeve in a cooler temper might have prudently declined this +invitation, the excitement of his recent success carried him +completely away. He placed one of the guineas on a slab beside the +reddleman's sovereign. "Mine is a guinea," he said. + +"A guinea that's not your own," said Venn sarcastically. + +"It is my own," answered Wildeve haughtily. "It is my wife's, and +what is hers is mine." + +"Very well; let's make a beginning." He shook the box, and threw +eight, ten, and nine; the three casts amounted to twenty-seven. + +This encouraged Wildeve. He took the box; and his three casts +amounted to forty-five. + +Down went another of the reddleman's sovereigns against his first one +which Wildeve laid. This time Wildeve threw fifty-one points, but no +pair. The reddleman looked grim, threw a raffle of aces, and pocketed +the stakes. + +"Here you are again," said Wildeve contemptuously. "Double the +stakes." He laid two of Thomasin's guineas, and the reddleman his two +pounds. Venn won again. New stakes were laid on the stone, and the +gamblers proceeded as before. + +Wildeve was a nervous and excitable man, and the game was beginning +to tell upon his temper. He writhed, fumed, shifted his seat; and +the beating of his heart was almost audible. Venn sat with lips +impassively closed and eyes reduced to a pair of unimportant twinkles; +he scarcely appeared to breathe. He might have been an Arab, or an +automaton; he would have been like a red sandstone statue but for the +motion of his arm with the dice-box. + +The game fluctuated, now in favour of one, now in favour of the other, +without any great advantage on the side of either. Nearly twenty +minutes were passed thus. The light of the candle had by this time +attracted heathflies, moths, and other winged creatures of night, +which floated round the lantern, flew into the flame, or beat about +the faces of the two players. + +But neither of the men paid much attention to these things, their eyes +being concentrated upon the little flat stone, which to them was an +arena vast and important as a battlefield. By this time a change had +come over the game; the reddleman won continually. At length sixty +guineas--Thomasin's fifty, and ten of Clym's--had passed into his +hands. Wildeve was reckless, frantic, exasperated. + +"'Won back his coat,'" said Venn slily. + +Another throw, and the money went the same way. + +"'Won back his hat,'" continued Venn. + +"Oh, oh!" said Wildeve. + +"'Won back his watch, won back his money, and went out of the door +a rich man,'" added Venn sentence by sentence, as stake after stake +passed over to him. + +"Five more!" shouted Wildeve, dashing down the money. "And three +casts be hanged--one shall decide." + +The red automaton opposite lapsed into silence, nodded, and followed +his example. Wildeve rattled the box, and threw a pair of sixes and +five points. He clapped his hands; "I have done it this +time--hurrah!" + +"There are two playing, and only one has thrown," said the reddleman, +quietly bringing down the box. The eyes of each were then so intently +converged upon the stone that one could fancy their beams were +visible, like rays in a fog. + +Venn lifted the box, and behold a triplet of sixes was disclosed. + +Wildeve was full of fury. While the reddleman was grasping the stakes +Wildeve seized the dice and hurled them, box and all, into the +darkness, uttering a fearful imprecation. Then he arose and began +stamping up and down like a madman. + +"It is all over, then?" said Venn. + +"No, no!" cried Wildeve. "I mean to have another chance yet. I +must!" + +"But, my good man, what have you done with the dice?" + +"I threw them away--it was a momentary irritation. What a fool I am! +Here--come and help me to look for them--we must find them again." + +Wildeve snatched up the lantern and began anxiously prowling among the +furze and fern. + +"You are not likely to find them there," said Venn, following. "What +did you do such a crazy thing as that for? Here's the box. The dice +can't be far off." + +Wildeve turned the light eagerly upon the spot where Venn had found +the box, and mauled the herbage right and left. In the course of a few +minutes one of the dice was found. They searched on for some time, +but no other was to be seen. + +"Never mind," said Wildeve; "let's play with one." + +"Agreed," said Venn. + +Down they sat again, and recommenced with single guinea stakes; and +the play went on smartly. But Fortune had unmistakably fallen in love +with the reddleman tonight. He won steadily, till he was the owner of +fourteen more of the gold pieces. Seventy-nine of the hundred guineas +were his, Wildeve possessing only twenty-one. The aspect of the two +opponents was now singular. Apart from motions, a complete diorama +of the fluctuations of the game went on in their eyes. A diminutive +candle-flame was mirrored in each pupil, and it would have been +possible to distinguish therein between the moods of hope and the +moods of abandonment, even as regards the reddleman, though his facial +muscles betrayed nothing at all. Wildeve played on with the +recklessness of despair. + +"What's that?" he suddenly exclaimed, hearing a rustle; and they both +looked up. + +They were surrounded by dusky forms between four and five feet high, +standing a few paces beyond the rays of the lantern. A moment's +inspection revealed that the encircling figures were heath-croppers, +their heads being all towards the players, at whom they gazed +intently. + +"Hoosh!" said Wildeve, and the whole forty or fifty animals at once +turned and galloped away. Play was again resumed. + +Ten minutes passed away. Then a large death's head moth advanced from +the obscure outer air, wheeled twice round the lantern, flew straight +at the candle, and extinguished it by the force of the blow. Wildeve +had just thrown, but had not lifted the box to see what he had cast; +and now it was impossible. + +"What the infernal!" he shrieked. "Now, what shall we do? Perhaps I +have thrown six--have you any matches?" + +"None," said Venn. + +"Christian had some--I wonder where he is. Christian!" + +But there was no reply to Wildeve's shout, save a mournful whining +from the herons which were nesting lower down the vale. Both men +looked blankly round without rising. As their eyes grew accustomed to +the darkness they perceived faint greenish points of light among the +grass and fern. These lights dotted the hillside like stars of a low +magnitude. + +"Ah--glowworms," said Wildeve. "Wait a minute. We can continue the +game." + +Venn sat still, and his companion went hither and thither till he had +gathered thirteen glowworms--as many as he could find in a space of +four or five minutes--upon a foxglove leaf which he pulled for the +purpose. The reddleman vented a low humorous laugh when he saw his +adversary return with these. "Determined to go on, then?" he said +drily. + +"I always am!" said Wildeve angrily. And shaking the glowworms from +the leaf he ranged them with a trembling hand in a circle on the +stone, leaving a space in the middle for the descent of the dice-box, +over which the thirteen tiny lamps threw a pale phosphoric shine. The +game was again renewed. It happened to be that season of the year at +which glowworms put forth their greatest brilliancy, and the light +they yielded was more than ample for the purpose, since it is possible +on such nights to read the handwriting of a letter by the light of two +or three. + +The incongruity between the men's deeds and their environment was +great. Amid the soft juicy vegetation of the hollow in which they +sat, the motionless and the uninhabited solitude, intruded the chink +of guineas, the rattle of dice, the exclamations of the reckless +players. + +Wildeve had lifted the box as soon as the lights were obtained, and +the solitary die proclaimed that the game was still against him. + +"I won't play any more--you've been tampering with the dice," he +shouted. + +"How--when they were your own?" said the reddleman. + +"We'll change the game: the lowest point shall win the stake--it may +cut off my ill luck. Do you refuse?" + +"No--go on," said Venn. + +"O, there they are again--damn them!" cried Wildeve, looking up. The +heath-croppers had returned noiselessly, and were looking on with +erect heads just as before, their timid eyes fixed upon the scene, as +if they were wondering what mankind and candle-light could have to do +in these haunts at this untoward hour. + +"What a plague those creatures are--staring at me so!" he said, and +flung a stone, which scattered them; when the game was continued as +before. + +Wildeve had now ten guineas left; and each laid five. Wildeve threw +three points; Venn two, and raked in the coins. The other seized the +die, and clenched his teeth upon it in sheer rage, as if he would +bite it in pieces. "Never give in--here are my last five!" he cried, +throwing them down. "Hang the glowworms--they are going out. Why +don't you burn, you little fools? Stir them up with a thorn." + +He probed the glowworms with a bit of stick, and rolled them over, +till the bright side of their tails was upwards. + +"There's light enough. Throw on," said Venn. + +Wildeve brought down the box within the shining circle and looked +eagerly. He had thrown ace. "Well done!--I said it would turn, and +it has turned." Venn said nothing; but his hand shook slightly. + +He threw ace also. + +"O!" said Wildeve. "Curse me!" + +The die smacked the stone a second time. It was ace again. Venn +looked gloomy, threw: the die was seen to be lying in two pieces, +the cleft sides uppermost. + +"I've thrown nothing at all," he said. + +"Serves me right--I split the die with my teeth. Here--take your +money. Blank is less than one." + +"I don't wish it." + +"Take it, I say--you've won it!" And Wildeve threw the stakes against +the reddleman's chest. Venn gathered them up, arose, and withdrew +from the hollow, Wildeve sitting stupefied. + +When he had come to himself he also arose, and, with the extinguished +lantern in his hand, went towards the high-road. On reaching it he +stood still. The silence of night pervaded the whole heath except in +one direction; and that was towards Mistover. There he could hear the +noise of light wheels, and presently saw two carriage-lamps descending +the hill. Wildeve screened himself under a bush and waited. + +The vehicle came on and passed before him. It was a hired carriage, +and behind the coachman were two persons whom he knew well. There sat +Eustacia and Yeobright, the arm of the latter being round her waist. +They turned the sharp corner at the bottom towards the temporary home +which Clym had hired and furnished, about five miles to the eastward. + +Wildeve forgot the loss of the money at the sight of his lost +love, whose preciousness in his eyes was increasing in geometrical +progression with each new incident that reminded him of their hopeless +division. Brimming with the subtilized misery that he was capable of +feeling, he followed the opposite way towards the inn. + +About the same moment that Wildeve stepped into the highway Venn also +had reached it at a point a hundred yards further on; and he, hearing +the same wheels, likewise waited till the carriage should come up. +When he saw who sat therein he seemed to be disappointed. Reflecting +a minute or two, during which interval the carriage rolled on, he +crossed the road, and took a short cut through the furze and heath to +a point where the turnpike-road bent round in ascending a hill. He +was now again in front of the carriage, which presently came up at a +walking pace. Venn stepped forward and showed himself. + +Eustacia started when the lamp shone upon him, and Clym's arm was +involuntarily withdrawn from her waist. He said, "What, Diggory? You +are having a lonely walk." + +"Yes--I beg your pardon for stopping you," said Venn. "But I am +waiting about for Mrs. Wildeve: I have something to give her from Mrs. +Yeobright. Can you tell me if she's gone home from the party yet?" + +"No. But she will be leaving soon. You may possibly meet her at the +corner." + +Venn made a farewell obeisance, and walked back to his former +position, where the by-road from Mistover joined the highway. Here +he remained fixed for nearly half an hour, and then another pair +of lights came down the hill. It was the old-fashioned wheeled +nondescript belonging to the captain, and Thomasin sat in it alone, +driven by Charley. + +The reddleman came up as they slowly turned the corner. "I beg pardon +for stopping you, Mrs. Wildeve," he said. "But I have something to +give you privately from Mrs. Yeobright." He handed a small parcel; it +consisted of the hundred guineas he had just won, roughly twisted up +in a piece of paper. + +Thomasin recovered from her surprise, and took the packet. "That's +all, ma'am--I wish you good night," he said, and vanished from her +view. + +Thus Venn, in his anxiety to rectify matters, had placed in Thomasin's +hands not only the fifty guineas which rightly belonged to her, but +also the fifty intended for her cousin Clym. His mistake had been +based upon Wildeve's words at the opening of the game, when he +indignantly denied that the guinea was not his own. It had not been +comprehended by the reddleman that at half-way through the performance +the game was continued with the money of another person; and it was an +error which afterwards helped to cause more misfortune than treble the +loss in money value could have done. + +The night was now somewhat advanced; and Venn plunged deeper into the +heath, till he came to a ravine where his van was standing--a spot not +more than two hundred yards from the site of the gambling bout. He +entered this movable home of his, lit his lantern, and, before closing +his door for the night, stood reflecting on the circumstances of +the preceding hours. While he stood the dawn grew visible in the +north-east quarter of the heavens, which, the clouds having cleared +off, was bright with a soft sheen at this midsummer time, though it +was only between one and two o'clock. Venn, thoroughly weary, then +shut his door and flung himself down to sleep. + + + + +BOOK FOURTH +THE CLOSED DOOR + + +I + +The Rencounter by the Pool + + +The July sun shone over Egdon and fired its crimson heather to +scarlet. It was the one season of the year, and the one weather of +the season, in which the heath was gorgeous. This flowering period +represented the second or noontide division in the cycle of those +superficial changes which alone were possible here; it followed the +green or young-fern period, representing the morn, and preceded the +brown period, when the heathbells and ferns would wear the russet +tinges of evening; to be in turn displaced by the dark hue of the +winter period, representing night. + +Clym and Eustacia, in their little house at Alderworth, beyond East +Egdon, were living on with a monotony which was delightful to them. +The heath and changes of weather were quite blotted out from their +eyes for the present. They were enclosed in a sort of luminous mist, +which hid from them surroundings of any inharmonious colour, and +gave to all things the character of light. When it rained they were +charmed, because they could remain indoors together all day with such +a show of reason; when it was fine they were charmed, because they +could sit together on the hills. They were like those double stars +which revolve round and round each other, and from a distance appear +to be one. The absolute solitude in which they lived intensified +their reciprocal thoughts; yet some might have said that it had the +disadvantage of consuming their mutual affections at a fearfully +prodigal rate. Yeobright did not fear for his own part; but +recollection of Eustacia's old speech about the evanescence of love, +now apparently forgotten by her, sometimes caused him to ask himself +a question; and he recoiled at the thought that the quality of +finiteness was not foreign to Eden. + +When three or four weeks had been passed thus, Yeobright resumed +his reading in earnest. To make up for lost time he studied +indefatigably, for he wished to enter his new profession with the +least possible delay. + +Now, Eustacia's dream had always been that, once married to Clym, +she would have the power of inducing him to return to Paris. He had +carefully withheld all promise to do so; but would he be proof against +her coaxing and argument? She had calculated to such a degree on +the probability of success that she had represented Paris, and not +Budmouth, to her grandfather as in all likelihood their future home. +Her hopes were bound up in this dream. In the quiet days since their +marriage, when Yeobright had been poring over her lips, her eyes, and +the lines of her face, she had mused and mused on the subject, even +while in the act of returning his gaze; and now the sight of the +books, indicating a future which was antagonistic to her dream, struck +her with a positively painful jar. She was hoping for the time when, +as the mistress of some pretty establishment, however small, near a +Parisian Boulevard, she would be passing her days on the skirts at +least of the gay world, and catching stray wafts from those town +pleasures she was so well fitted to enjoy. Yet Yeobright was as firm +in the contrary intention as if the tendency of marriage were rather +to develop the fantasies of young philanthropy than to sweep them +away. + +Her anxiety reached a high pitch; but there was something in Clym's +undeviating manner which made her hesitate before sounding him on +the subject. At this point in their experience, however, an incident +helped her. It occurred one evening about six weeks after their +union, and arose entirely out of the unconscious misapplication of +Venn of the fifty guineas intended for Yeobright. + +A day or two after the receipt of the money Thomasin had sent a note +to her aunt to thank her. She had been surprised at the largeness of +the amount; but as no sum had ever been mentioned she set that down +to her late uncle's generosity. She had been strictly charged by her +aunt to say nothing to her husband of this gift; and Wildeve, as was +natural enough, had not brought himself to mention to his wife a +single particular of the midnight scene in the heath. Christian's +terror, in like manner, had tied his tongue on the share he took in +that proceeding; and hoping that by some means or other the money had +gone to its proper destination, he simply asserted as much, without +giving details. + +Therefore, when a week or two had passed away, Mrs. Yeobright began +to wonder why she never heard from her son of the receipt of the +present; and to add gloom to her perplexity came the possibility +that resentment might be the cause of his silence. She could hardly +believe as much, but why did he not write? She questioned Christian, +and the confusion in his answers would at once have led her to +believe that something was wrong, had not one-half of his story been +corroborated by Thomasin's note. + +Mrs. Yeobright was in this state of uncertainty when she was informed +one morning that her son's wife was visiting her grandfather at +Mistover. She determined to walk up the hill, see Eustacia, and +ascertain from her daughter-in-law's lips whether the family guineas, +which were to Mrs. Yeobright what family jewels are to wealthier +dowagers, had miscarried or not. + +When Christian learnt where she was going his concern reached its +height. At the moment of her departure he could prevaricate no +longer, and, confessing to the gambling, told her the truth as far +as he knew it--that the guineas had been won by Wildeve. + +"What, is he going to keep them?" Mrs. Yeobright cried. + +"I hope and trust not!" moaned Christian. "He's a good man, and +perhaps will do right things. He said you ought to have gied Mr. +Clym's share to Eustacia, and that's perhaps what he'll do himself." + +To Mrs. Yeobright, as soon as she could calmly reflect, there was much +likelihood in this, for she could hardly believe that Wildeve would +really appropriate money belonging to her son. The intermediate +course of giving it to Eustacia was the sort of thing to please +Wildeve's fancy. But it filled the mother with anger none the less. +That Wildeve should have got command of the guineas after all, and +should rearrange the disposal of them, placing Clym's share in Clym's +wife's hands, because she had been his own sweetheart, and might be so +still, was as irritating a pain as any that Mrs. Yeobright had ever +borne. + +She instantly dismissed the wretched Christian from her employ for his +conduct in the affair; but, feeling quite helpless and unable to do +without him, told him afterwards that he might stay a little longer +if he chose. Then she hastened off to Eustacia, moved by a much less +promising emotion towards her daughter-in-law than she had felt half +an hour earlier, when planning her journey. At that time it was to +inquire in a friendly spirit if there had been any accidental loss; +now it was to ask plainly if Wildeve had privately given her money +which had been intended as a sacred gift to Clym. + +She started at two o'clock, and her meeting with Eustacia was hastened +by the appearance of the young lady beside the pool and bank which +bordered her grandfather's premises, where she stood surveying +the scene, and perhaps thinking of the romantic enactments it had +witnessed in past days. When Mrs. Yeobright approached, Eustacia +surveyed her with the calm stare of a stranger. + +The mother-in-law was the first to speak. "I was coming to see you," +she said. + +"Indeed!" said Eustacia with surprise, for Mrs. Yeobright, much to the +girl's mortification, had refused to be present at the wedding. "I +did not at all expect you." + +"I was coming on business only," said the visitor, more coldly than at +first. "Will you excuse my asking this--Have you received a gift from +Thomasin's husband?" + +"A gift?" + +"I mean money!" + +"What--I myself?" + +"Well, I meant yourself, privately--though I was not going to put it +in that way." + +"Money from Mr. Wildeve? No--never! Madam, what do you mean by that?" +Eustacia fired up all too quickly, for her own consciousness of the +old attachment between herself and Wildeve led her to jump to the +conclusion that Mrs. Yeobright also knew of it, and might have come +to accuse her of receiving dishonourable presents from him now. + +"I simply ask the question," said Mrs. Yeobright. "I have been--" + +"You ought to have better opinions of me--I feared you were against +me from the first!" exclaimed Eustacia. + +"No. I was simply for Clym," replied Mrs. Yeobright, with too much +emphasis in her earnestness. "It is the instinct of everyone to look +after their own." + +"How can you imply that he required guarding against me?" cried +Eustacia, passionate tears in her eyes. "I have not injured him by +marrying him! What sin have I done that you should think so ill of me? +You had no right to speak against me to him when I have never wronged +you." + +"I only did what was fair under the circumstances," said Mrs. +Yeobright more softly. "I would rather not have gone into this +question at present, but you compel me. I am not ashamed to tell you +the honest truth. I was firmly convinced that he ought not to marry +you--therefore I tried to dissuade him by all the means in my power. +But it is done now, and I have no idea of complaining any more. I am +ready to welcome you." + +"Ah, yes, it is very well to see things in that business point of +view," murmured Eustacia with a smothered fire of feeling. "But why +should you think there is anything between me and Mr. Wildeve? I have +a spirit as well as you. I am indignant; and so would any woman be. +It was a condescension in me to be Clym's wife, and not a manoeuvre, +let me remind you; and therefore I will not be treated as a schemer +whom it becomes necessary to bear with because she has crept into the +family." + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Yeobright, vainly endeavouring to control her anger. +"I have never heard anything to show that my son's lineage is not as +good as the Vyes'--perhaps better. It is amusing to hear you talk of +condescension." + +"It was condescension, nevertheless," said Eustacia vehemently. "And +if I had known then what I know now, that I should be living in this +wild heath a month after my marriage, I--I should have thought twice +before agreeing." + +"It would be better not to say that; it might not sound truthful. I +am not aware that any deception was used on his part--I know there was +not--whatever might have been the case on the other side." + +"This is too exasperating!" answered the younger woman huskily, her +face crimsoning, and her eyes darting light. "How can you dare to +speak to me like that? I insist upon repeating to you that had I +known that my life would from my marriage up to this time have been as +it is, I should have said NO. I don't complain. I have never uttered +a sound of such a thing to him; but it is true. I hope therefore that +in the future you will be silent on my eagerness. If you injure me +now you injure yourself." + +"Injure you? Do you think I am an evil-disposed person?" + +"You injured me before my marriage, and you have now suspected me of +secretly favouring another man for money!" + +"I could not help what I thought. But I have never spoken of you +outside my house." + +"You spoke of me within it, to Clym, and you could not do worse." + +"I did my duty." + +"And I'll do mine." + +"A part of which will possibly be to set him against his mother. It +is always so. But why should I not bear it as others have borne it +before me!" + +"I understand you," said Eustacia, breathless with emotion. "You +think me capable of every bad thing. Who can be worse than a wife +who encourages a lover, and poisons her husband's mind against his +relative? Yet that is now the character given to me. Will you not +come and drag him out of my hands?" + +Mrs. Yeobright gave back heat for heat. + +"Don't rage at me, madam! It ill becomes your beauty, and I am not +worth the injury you may do it on my account, I assure you. I am only +a poor old woman who has lost a son." + +"If you had treated me honourably you would have had him still." +Eustacia said, while scalding tears trickled from her eyes. "You have +brought yourself to folly; you have caused a division which can never +be healed!" + +"I have done nothing. This audacity from a young woman is more than I +can bear." + +"It was asked for; you have suspected me, and you have made me speak +of my husband in a way I would not have done. You will let him know +that I have spoken thus, and it will cause misery between us. Will +you go away from me? You are no friend!" + +"I will go when I have spoken a word. If anyone says I have come +here to question you without good grounds for it, that person speaks +untruly. If anyone says that I attempted to stop your marriage by any +but honest means, that person, too, does not speak the truth. I have +fallen on an evil time; God has been unjust to me in letting you +insult me! Probably my son's happiness does not lie on this side of +the grave, for he is a foolish man who neglects the advice of his +parent. You, Eustacia, stand on the edge of a precipice without +knowing it. Only show my son one-half the temper you have shown me +today--and you may before long--and you will find that though he is +as gentle as a child with you now, he can be as hard as steel!" + +The excited mother then withdrew, and Eustacia, panting, stood looking +into the pool. + + + + +II + +He Is Set Upon by Adversities; but He Sings a Song + + +The result of that unpropitious interview was that Eustacia, instead +of passing the afternoon with her grandfather, hastily returned home +to Clym, where she arrived three hours earlier than she had been +expected. + +She came indoors with her face flushed, and her eyes still showing +traces of her recent excitement. Yeobright looked up astonished; he +had never seen her in any way approaching to that state before. She +passed him by, and would have gone upstairs unnoticed, but Clym was +so concerned that he immediately followed her. + +"What is the matter, Eustacia?" he said. She was standing on the +hearthrug in the bedroom, looking upon the floor, her hands clasped +in front of her, her bonnet yet unremoved. For a moment she did not +answer; and then she replied in a low voice-- + +"I have seen your mother; and I will never see her again!" + +A weight fell like a stone upon Clym. That same morning, when Eustacia +had arranged to go and see her grandfather, Clym had expressed a +wish that she would drive down to Blooms-End and inquire for her +mother-in-law, or adopt any other means she might think fit to bring +about a reconciliation. She had set out gaily; and he had hoped for +much. + +"Why is this?" he asked. + +"I cannot tell--I cannot remember. I met your mother. And I will +never meet her again." + +"Why?" + +"What do I know about Mr. Wildeve now? I won't have wicked opinions +passed on me by anybody. O! it was too humiliating to be asked if I +had received any money from him, or encouraged him, or something of +the sort--I don't exactly know what!" + +"How could she have asked you that?" + +"She did." + +"Then there must have been some meaning in it. What did my mother say +besides?" + +"I don't know what she said, except in so far as this, that we both +said words which can never be forgiven!" + +"Oh, there must be some misapprehension. Whose fault was it that her +meaning was not made clear?" + +"I would rather not say. It may have been the fault of the +circumstances, which were awkward at the very least. O Clym--I cannot +help expressing it--this is an unpleasant position that you have +placed me in. But you must improve it--yes, say you will--for I hate +it all now! Yes, take me to Paris, and go on with your old occupation, +Clym! I don't mind how humbly we live there at first, if it can only +be Paris, and not Egdon Heath." + +"But I have quite given up that idea," said Yeobright, with surprise. +"Surely I never led you to expect such a thing?" + +"I own it. Yet there are thoughts which cannot be kept out of mind, +and that one was mine. Must I not have a voice in the matter, now I +am your wife and the sharer of your doom?" + +"Well, there are things which are placed beyond the pale of +discussion; and I thought this was specially so, and by mutual +agreement." + +"Clym, I am unhappy at what I hear," she said in a low voice; and her +eyes drooped, and she turned away. + +This indication of an unexpected mine of hope in Eustacia's bosom +disconcerted her husband. It was the first time that he had +confronted the fact of the indirectness of a woman's movement towards +her desire. But his intention was unshaken, though he loved Eustacia +well. All the effect that her remark had upon him was a resolve to +chain himself more closely than ever to his books, so as to be the +sooner enabled to appeal to substantial results from another course +in arguing against her whim. + +Next day the mystery of the guineas was explained. Thomasin paid them +a hurried visit, and Clym's share was delivered up to him by her own +hands. Eustacia was not present at the time. + +"Then this is what my mother meant," exclaimed Clym. "Thomasin, do +you know that they have had a bitter quarrel?" + +There was a little more reticence now than formerly in Thomasin's +manner towards her cousin. It is the effect of marriage to engender +in several directions some of the reserve it annihilates in one. +"Your mother told me," she said quietly. "She came back to my house +after seeing Eustacia." + +"The worst thing I dreaded has come to pass. Was mother much +disturbed when she came to you, Thomasin?" + +"Yes." + +"Very much indeed?" + +"Yes." + +Clym leant his elbow upon the post of the garden gate, and covered his +eyes with his hand. + +"Don't trouble about it, Clym. They may get to be friends." + +He shook his head. "Not two people with inflammable natures like +theirs. Well, what must be will be." + +"One thing is cheerful in it--the guineas are not lost." + +"I would rather have lost them twice over than have had this happen." + + + +Amid these jarring events Yeobright felt one thing to be +indispensable--that he should speedily make some show of progress in +his scholastic plans. With this view he read far into the small hours +during many nights. + +One morning, after a severer strain than usual, he awoke with a +strange sensation in his eyes. The sun was shining directly upon the +window-blind, and at his first glance thitherward a sharp pain obliged +him to close his eyelids quickly. At every new attempt to look +about him the same morbid sensibility to light was manifested, and +excoriating tears ran down his cheeks. He was obliged to tie a +bandage over his brow while dressing; and during the day it could not +be abandoned. Eustacia was thoroughly alarmed. On finding that the +case was no better the next morning they decided to send to Anglebury +for a surgeon. + +Towards evening he arrived, and pronounced the disease to be acute +inflammation induced by Clym's night studies, continued in spite of a +cold previously caught, which had weakened his eyes for the time. + +Fretting with impatience at this interruption to a task he was so +anxious to hasten, Clym was transformed into an invalid. He was shut +up in a room from which all light was excluded, and his condition +would have been one of absolute misery had not Eustacia read to him by +the glimmer of a shaded lamp. He hoped that the worst would soon be +over; but at the surgeon's third visit he learnt to his dismay that +although he might venture out of doors with shaded eyes in the course +of a month, all thought of pursuing his work, or of reading print of +any description, would have to be given up for a long time to come. + +One week and another week wore on, and nothing seemed to lighten the +gloom of the young couple. Dreadful imaginings occurred to Eustacia, +but she carefully refrained from uttering them to her husband. Suppose +he should become blind, or, at all events, never recover sufficient +strength of sight to engage in an occupation which would be congenial +to her feelings, and conduce to her removal from this lonely dwelling +among the hills? That dream of beautiful Paris was not likely to +cohere into substance in the presence of this misfortune. As day after +day passed by, and he got no better, her mind ran more and more in +this mournful groove, and she would go away from him into the garden +and weep despairing tears. + +Yeobright thought he would send for his mother; and then he thought +he would not. Knowledge of his state could only make her the more +unhappy; and the seclusion of their life was such that she would +hardly be likely to learn the news except through a special messenger. +Endeavouring to take the trouble as philosophically as possible, he +waited on till the third week had arrived, when he went into the open +air for the first time since the attack. The surgeon visited him +again at this stage, and Clym urged him to express a distinct opinion. +The young man learnt with added surprise that the date at which he +might expect to resume his labours was as uncertain as ever, his eyes +being in that peculiar state which, though affording him sight enough +for walking about, would not admit of their being strained upon any +definite object without incurring the risk of reproducing ophthalmia +in its acute form. + +Clym was very grave at the intelligence, but not despairing. A quiet +firmness, and even cheerfulness, took possession of him. He was +not to be blind; that was enough. To be doomed to behold the world +through smoked glass for an indefinite period was bad enough, and +fatal to any kind of advance; but Yeobright was an absolute stoic in +the face of mishaps which only affected his social standing; and, +apart from Eustacia, the humblest walk of life would satisfy him if +it could be made to work in with some form of his culture scheme. To +keep a cottage night-school was one such form; and his affliction did +not master his spirit as it might otherwise have done. + +He walked through the warm sun westward into those tracts of Egdon +with which he was best acquainted, being those lying nearer to his old +home. He saw before him in one of the valleys the gleaming of whetted +iron, and advancing, dimly perceived that the shine came from the +tool of a man who was cutting furze. The worker recognized Clym, and +Yeobright learnt from the voice that the speaker was Humphrey. + +Humphrey expressed his sorrow at Clym's condition, and added; "Now, if +yours was low-class work like mine, you could go on with it just the +same." + +"Yes, I could," said Yeobright musingly. "How much do you get for +cutting these faggots?" + +"Half-a-crown a hundred, and in these long days I can live very well +on the wages." + +During the whole of Yeobright's walk home to Alderworth he was lost +in reflections which were not of an unpleasant kind. On his coming up +to the house Eustacia spoke to him from the open window, and he went +across to her. + +"Darling," he said, "I am much happier. And if my mother were +reconciled to me and to you I should, I think, be happy quite." + +"I fear that will never be," she said, looking afar with her beautiful +stormy eyes. "How CAN you say 'I am happier,' and nothing changed?" + +"It arises from my having at last discovered something I can do, and +get a living at, in this time of misfortune." + +"Yes?" + +"I am going to be a furze and turf-cutter." + +"No, Clym!" she said, the slight hopefulness previously apparent in +her face going off again, and leaving her worse than before. + +"Surely I shall. Is it not very unwise in us to go on spending the +little money we've got when I can keep down expenditure by an honest +occupation? The outdoor exercise will do me good, and who knows but +that in a few months I shall be able to go on with my reading again?" + +"But my grandfather offers to assist us, if we require assistance." + +"We don't require it. If I go furze-cutting we shall be fairly well +off." + +"In comparison with slaves, and the Israelites in Egypt, and such +people!" A bitter tear rolled down Eustacia's face, which he did not +see. There had been _nonchalance_ in his tone, showing her that he +felt no absolute grief at a consummation which to her was a positive +horror. + +The very next day Yeobright went to Humphrey's cottage, and borrowed +of him leggings, gloves, a whet-stone, and a hook, to use till he +should be able to purchase some for himself. Then he sallied forth +with his new fellow-labourer and old acquaintance, and selecting a +spot where the furze grew thickest he struck the first blow in his +adopted calling. His sight, like the wings in "Rasselas," though +useless to him for his grand purpose, sufficed for this strait, and +he found that when a little practice should have hardened his palms +against blistering he would be able to work with ease. + +Day after day he rose with the sun, buckled on his leggings, and went +off to the rendezvous with Humphrey. His custom was to work from four +o'clock in the morning till noon; then, when the heat of the day was +at its highest, to go home and sleep for an hour or two; afterwards +coming out again and working till dusk at nine. + +This man from Paris was now so disguised by his leather accoutrements, +and by the goggles he was obliged to wear over his eyes, that his +closest friend might have passed by without recognizing him. He was +a brown spot in the midst of an expanse of olive-green gorse, and +nothing more. Though frequently depressed in spirit when not actually +at work, owing to thoughts of Eustacia's position and his mother's +estrangement, when in the full swing of labour he was cheerfully +disposed and calm. + +His daily life was of a curious microscopic sort, his whole world +being limited to a circuit of a few feet from his person. His +familiars were creeping and winged things, and they seemed to enroll +him in their band. Bees hummed around his ears with an intimate +air, and tugged at the heath and furze-flowers at his side in such +numbers as to weigh them down to the sod. The strange amber-coloured +butterflies which Egdon produced, and which were never seen elsewhere, +quivered in the breath of his lips, alighted upon his bowed back, and +sported with the glittering point of his hook as he flourished it up +and down. Tribes of emerald-green grasshoppers leaped over his feet, +falling awkwardly on their backs, heads, or hips, like unskilful +acrobats, as chance might rule; or engaged themselves in noisy +flirtations under the fern-fronds with silent ones of homely hue. Huge +flies, ignorant of larders and wire-netting, and quite in a savage +state, buzzed about him without knowing that he was a man. In and +out of the fern-dells snakes glided in their most brilliant blue and +yellow guise, it being the season immediately following the shedding +of their old skins, when their colours are brightest. Litters of young +rabbits came out from their forms to sun themselves upon hillocks, the +hot beams blazing through the delicate tissue of each thin-fleshed +ear, and firing it to a blood-red transparency in which the veins +could be seen. None of them feared him. + +The monotony of his occupation soothed him, and was in itself a +pleasure. A forced limitation of effort offered a justification of +homely courses to an unambitious man, whose conscience would hardly +have allowed him to remain in such obscurity while his powers were +unimpeded. Hence Yeobright sometimes sang to himself, and when obliged +to accompany Humphrey in search of brambles for faggot-bonds he would +amuse his companion with sketches of Parisian life and character, and +so while away the time. + +On one of these warm afternoons Eustacia walked out alone in the +direction of Yeobright's place of work. He was busily chopping away +at the furze, a long row of faggots which stretched downward from his +position representing the labour of the day. He did not observe her +approach, and she stood close to him, and heard his undercurrent of +song. It shocked her. To see him there, a poor afflicted man, earning +money by the sweat of his brow, had at first moved her to tears; but +to hear him sing and not at all rebel against an occupation which, +however satisfactory to himself, was degrading to her, as an educated +lady-wife, wounded her through. Unconscious of her presence, he still +went on singing:-- + + + "Le point du jour + À nos bosquets rend toute leur parure; + Flore est plus belle à son retour; + L'oiseau reprend doux chant d'amour; + Tout célèbre dans la nature + Le point du jour. + + "Le point du jour + Cause parfois, cause douleur extrême; + Que l'espace des nuits est court + Pour le berger brûlant d'amour, + Forcé de quitter ce qu'il aime + Au point du jour!" + + +It was bitterly plain to Eustacia that he did not care much about +social failure; and the proud fair woman bowed her head and wept in +sick despair at thought of the blasting effect upon her own life of +that mood and condition in him. Then she came forward. + +"I would starve rather than do it!" she exclaimed vehemently. "And +you can sing! I will go and live with my grandfather again!" + +"Eustacia! I did not see you, though I noticed something moving," he +said gently. He came forward, pulled off his huge leather glove, and +took her hand. "Why do you speak in such a strange way? It is only a +little old song which struck my fancy when I was in Paris, and now +just applies to my life with you. Has your love for me all died, +then, because my appearance is no longer that of a fine gentleman?" + +"Dearest, you must not question me unpleasantly, or it may make me +not love you." + +"Do you believe it possible that I would run the risk of doing that?" + +"Well, you follow out your own ideas, and won't give in to mine when +I wish you to leave off this shameful labour. Is there anything you +dislike in me that you act so contrarily to my wishes? I am your +wife, and why will you not listen? Yes, I am your wife indeed!" + +"I know what that tone means." + +"What tone?" + +"The tone in which you said, 'Your wife indeed.' It meant, 'Your wife, +worse luck.'" + +"It is hard in you to probe me with that remark. A woman may have +reason, though she is not without heart, and if I felt 'worse luck,' +it was no ignoble feeling--it was only too natural. There, you see +that at any rate I do not attempt untruths. Do you remember how, +before we were married, I warned you that I had not good wifely +qualities?" + +"You mock me to say that now. On that point at least the only noble +course would be to hold your tongue, for you are still queen of me, +Eustacia, though I may no longer be king of you." + +"You are my husband. Does not that content you?" + +"Not unless you are my wife without regret." + +"I cannot answer you. I remember saying that I should be a serious +matter on your hands." + +"Yes, I saw that." + +"Then you were too quick to see! No true lover would have seen any +such thing; you are too severe upon me, Clym--I don't like your +speaking so at all." + +"Well, I married you in spite of it, and don't regret doing so. How +cold you seem this afternoon! and yet I used to think there never was +a warmer heart than yours." + +"Yes, I fear we are cooling--I see it as well as you," she sighed +mournfully. "And how madly we loved two months ago! You were never +tired of contemplating me, nor I of contemplating you. Who could have +thought then that by this time my eyes would not seem so very bright +to yours, nor your lips so very sweet to mine? Two months--is it +possible? Yes, 'tis too true!" + +"You sigh, dear, as if you were sorry for it; and that's a hopeful +sign." + +"No. I don't sigh for that. There are other things for me to sigh +for, or any other woman in my place." + +"That your chances in life are ruined by marrying in haste an +unfortunate man?" + +"Why will you force me, Clym, to say bitter things? I deserve pity as +much as you. As much?--I think I deserve it more. For you can sing! +It would be a strange hour which should catch me singing under such a +cloud as this! Believe me, sweet, I could weep to a degree that would +astonish and confound such an elastic mind as yours. Even had you +felt careless about your own affliction, you might have refrained from +singing out of sheer pity for mine. God! if I were a man in such a +position I would curse rather than sing." + +Yeobright placed his hand upon her arm. "Now, don't you suppose, my +inexperienced girl, that I cannot rebel, in high Promethean fashion, +against the gods and fate as well as you. I have felt more steam and +smoke of that sort than you have ever heard of. But the more I see of +life the more do I perceive that there is nothing particularly great +in its greatest walks, and therefore nothing particularly small +in mine of furze-cutting. If I feel that the greatest blessings +vouchsafed to us are not very valuable, how can I feel it to be any +great hardship when they are taken away? So I sing to pass the time. +Have you indeed lost all tenderness for me, that you begrudge me a +few cheerful moments?" + +"I have still some tenderness left for you." + +"Your words have no longer their old flavour. And so love dies with +good fortune!" + +"I cannot listen to this, Clym--it will end bitterly," she said in a +broken voice. "I will go home." + + + + +III + +She Goes Out to Battle against Depression + + +A few days later, before the month of August had expired, Eustacia +and Yeobright sat together at their early dinner. Eustacia's manner +had become of late almost apathetic. There was a forlorn look about +her beautiful eyes which, whether she deserved it or not, would have +excited pity in the breast of anyone who had known her during the full +flush of her love for Clym. The feelings of husband and wife varied, +in some measure, inversely with their positions. Clym, the afflicted +man, was cheerful; and he even tried to comfort her, who had never +felt a moment of physical suffering in her whole life. + +"Come, brighten up, dearest; we shall be all right again. Some day +perhaps I shall see as well as ever. And I solemnly promise that I'll +leave off cutting furze as soon as I have the power to do anything +better. You cannot seriously wish me to stay idling at home all day?" + +"But it is so dreadful--a furze-cutter! and you a man who have lived +about the world, and speak French, and German, and who are fit for +what is so much better than this." + +"I suppose when you first saw me and heard about me I was wrapped in +a sort of golden halo to your eyes--a man who knew glorious things, +and had mixed in brilliant scenes--in short, an adorable, delightful, +distracting hero?" + +"Yes," she said, sobbing. + +"And now I am a poor fellow in brown leather." + +"Don't taunt me. But enough of this. I will not be depressed any +more. I am going from home this afternoon, unless you greatly object. +There is to be a village picnic--a gipsying, they call it--at East +Egdon, and I shall go." + +"To dance?" + +"Why not? You can sing." + +"Well, well, as you will. Must I come to fetch you?" + +"If you return soon enough from your work. But do not inconvenience +yourself about it. I know the way home, and the heath has no terror +for me." + +"And can you cling to gaiety so eagerly as to walk all the way to a +village festival in search of it?" + +"Now, you don't like my going alone! Clym, you are not jealous?" + +"No. But I would come with you if it could give you any pleasure; +though, as things stand, perhaps you have too much of me already. +Still, I somehow wish that you did not want to go. Yes, perhaps I +am jealous; and who could be jealous with more reason than I, a +half-blind man, over such a woman as you?" + +"Don't think like it. Let me go, and don't take all my spirits away!" + +"I would rather lose all my own, my sweet wife. Go and do whatever +you like. Who can forbid your indulgence in any whim? You have all +my heart yet, I believe; and because you bear with me, who am in truth +a drag upon you, I owe you thanks. Yes, go alone and shine. As for +me, I will stick to my doom. At that kind of meeting people would +shun me. My hook and gloves are like the St. Lazarus rattle of the +leper, warning the world to get out of the way of a sight that would +sadden them." He kissed her, put on his leggings, and went out. + +When he was gone she rested her head upon her hands and said to +herself, "Two wasted lives--his and mine. And I am come to this! Will +it drive me out of my mind?" + +She cast about for any possible course which offered the least +improvement on the existing state of things, and could find none. She +imagined how all those Budmouth ones who should learn what had become +of her would say, "Look at the girl for whom nobody was good enough!" +To Eustacia the situation seemed such a mockery of her hopes that +death appeared the only door of relief if the satire of Heaven should +go much further. + +Suddenly she aroused herself and exclaimed, "But I'll shake it off. +Yes, I WILL shake it off! No one shall know my suffering. I'll be +bitterly merry, and ironically gay, and I'll laugh in derision. And +I'll begin by going to this dance on the green." + +She ascended to her bedroom and dressed herself with scrupulous +care. To an onlooker her beauty would have made her feelings almost +seem reasonable. The gloomy corner into which accident as much as +indiscretion had brought this woman might have led even a moderate +partisan to feel that she had cogent reasons for asking the Supreme +Power by what right a being of such exquisite finish had been placed +in circumstances calculated to make of her charms a curse rather than +a blessing. + +It was five in the afternoon when she came out from the house ready +for her walk. There was material enough in the picture for twenty new +conquests. The rebellious sadness that was rather too apparent when +she sat indoors without a bonnet was cloaked and softened by her +outdoor attire, which always had a sort of nebulousness about it, +devoid of harsh edges anywhere; so that her face looked from its +environment as from a cloud, with no noticeable lines of demarcation +between flesh and clothes. The heat of the day had scarcely declined +as yet, and she went along the sunny hills at a leisurely pace, there +being ample time for her idle expedition. Tall ferns buried her in +their leafage whenever her path lay through them, which now formed +miniature forests, though not one stem of them would remain to bud +the next year. + +The site chosen for the village festivity was one of the lawn-like +oases which were occasionally, yet not often, met with on the plateaux +of the heath district. The brakes of furze and fern terminated +abruptly round the margin, and the grass was unbroken. A green +cattle-track skirted the spot, without, however, emerging from +the screen of fern, and this path Eustacia followed, in order to +reconnoitre the group before joining it. The lusty notes of the +East Egdon band had directed her unerringly, and she now beheld +the musicians themselves, sitting in a blue waggon with red wheels +scrubbed as bright as new, and arched with sticks, to which boughs +and flowers were tied. In front of this was the grand central dance +of fifteen or twenty couples, flanked by minor dances of inferior +individuals whose gyrations were not always in strict keeping with +the tune. + +The young men wore blue and white rosettes, and with a flush on +their faces footed it to the girls, who, with the excitement and the +exercise, blushed deeper than the pink of their numerous ribbons. +Fair ones with long curls, fair ones with short curls, fair ones +with love-locks, fair ones with braids, flew round and round; and +a beholder might well have wondered how such a prepossessing set +of young women of like size, age, and disposition, could have been +collected together where there were only one or two villages to choose +from. In the background was one happy man dancing by himself, with +closed eyes, totally oblivious of all the rest. A fire was burning +under a pollard thorn a few paces off, over which three kettles hung +in a row. Hard by was a table where elderly dames prepared tea, but +Eustacia looked among them in vain for the cattle-dealer's wife who +had suggested that she should come, and had promised to obtain a +courteous welcome for her. + +This unexpected absence of the only local resident whom Eustacia knew +considerably damaged her scheme for an afternoon of reckless gaiety. +Joining in became a matter of difficulty, notwithstanding that, were +she to advance, cheerful dames would come forward with cups of tea +and make much of her as a stranger of superior grace and knowledge +to themselves. Having watched the company through the figures of two +dances, she decided to walk a little further, to a cottage where she +might get some refreshment, and then return homeward in the shady time +of evening. + +This she did; and by the time that she retraced her steps towards the +scene of the gipsying, which it was necessary to repass on her way +to Alderworth, the sun was going down. The air was now so still that +she could hear the band afar off, and it seemed to be playing with +more spirit, if that were possible, than when she had come away. On +reaching the hill the sun had quite disappeared; but this made little +difference either to Eustacia or to the revellers, for a round yellow +moon was rising before her, though its rays had not yet outmastered +those from the west. The dance was going on just the same, but +strangers had arrived and formed a ring around the figure, so that +Eustacia could stand among these without a chance of being recognized. + +A whole village-full of sensuous emotion, scattered abroad all the +year long, surged here in a focus for an hour. The forty hearts of +those waving couples were beating as they had not done since, twelve +months before, they had come together in similar jollity. For the +time paganism was revived in their hearts, the pride of life was all +in all, and they adored none other than themselves. + +How many of those impassioned but temporary embraces were destined to +become perpetual was possibly the wonder of some of those who indulged +in them, as well as of Eustacia who looked on. She began to envy +those pirouetters, to hunger for the hope and happiness which the +fascination of the dance seemed to engender within them. Desperately +fond of dancing herself, one of Eustacia's expectations of Paris +had been the opportunity it might afford her of indulgence in this +favourite pastime. Unhappily, that expectation was now extinct within +her for ever. + +Whilst she abstractedly watched them spinning and fluctuating in the +increasing moonlight she suddenly heard her name whispered by a voice +over her shoulder. Turning in surprise, she beheld at her elbow one +whose presence instantly caused her to flush to the temples. + +It was Wildeve. Till this moment he had not met her eye since the +morning of his marriage, when she had been loitering in the church, +and had startled him by lifting her veil and coming forward to +sign the register as witness. Yet why the sight of him should have +instigated that sudden rush of blood she could not tell. + +Before she could speak he whispered, "Do you like dancing as much as +ever?" + +"I think I do," she replied in a low voice. + +"Will you dance with me?" + +"It would be a great change for me; but will it not seem strange?" + +"What strangeness can there be in relations dancing together?" + +"Ah--yes, relations. Perhaps none." + +"Still, if you don't like to be seen, pull down your veil; though +there is not much risk of being known by this light. Lots of +strangers are here." + +She did as he suggested; and the act was a tacit acknowledgment that +she accepted his offer. + +Wildeve gave her his arm and took her down on the outside of the ring +to the bottom of the dance, which they entered. In two minutes more +they were involved in the figure and began working their way upwards +to the top. Till they had advanced halfway thither Eustacia wished +more than once that she had not yielded to his request; from the +middle to the top she felt that, since she had come out to seek +pleasure, she was only doing a natural thing to obtain it. Fairly +launched into the ceaseless glides and whirls which their new position +as top couple opened up to them, Eustacia's pulses began to move too +quickly for long rumination of any kind. + +Through the length of five-and-twenty couples they threaded their +giddy way, and a new vitality entered her form. The pale ray of +evening lent a fascination to the experience. There is a certain +degree and tone of light which tends to disturb the equilibrium of +the senses, and to promote dangerously the tenderer moods; added to +movement, it drives the emotions to rankness, the reason becoming +sleepy and unperceiving in inverse proportion; and this light fell now +upon these two from the disc of the moon. All the dancing girls felt +the symptoms, but Eustacia most of all. The grass under their feet +became trodden away, and the hard beaten surface of the sod, when +viewed aslant towards the moonlight, shone like a polished table. +The air became quite still, the flag above the waggon which held the +musicians clung to the pole, and the players appeared only in outline +against the sky; except when the circular mouths of the trombone, +ophicleide, and French horn gleamed out like huge eyes from the shade +of their figures. The pretty dresses of the maids lost their subtler +day colours and showed more or less of a misty white. Eustacia floated +round and round on Wildeve's arm, her face rapt and statuesque; her +soul had passed away from and forgotten her features, which were left +empty and quiescent, as they always are when feeling goes beyond their +register. + +How near she was to Wildeve! it was terrible to think of. She could +feel his breathing, and he, of course, could feel hers. How badly +she had treated him! yet, here they were treading one measure. The +enchantment of the dance surprised her. A clear line of difference +divided like a tangible fence her experience within this maze of +motion from her experience without it. Her beginning to dance had +been like a change of atmosphere; outside, she had been steeped in +arctic frigidity by comparison with the tropical sensations here. She +had entered the dance from the troubled hours of her late life as one +might enter a brilliant chamber after a night walk in a wood. Wildeve +by himself would have been merely an agitation; Wildeve added to the +dance, and the moonlight, and the secrecy, began to be a delight. +Whether his personality supplied the greater part of this sweetly +compounded feeling, or whether the dance and the scene weighed +the more therein, was a nice point upon which Eustacia herself was +entirely in a cloud. + +People began to say "Who are they?" but no invidious inquiries were +made. Had Eustacia mingled with the other girls in their ordinary +daily walks the case would have been different: here she was not +inconvenienced by excessive inspection, for all were wrought to their +brightest grace by the occasion. Like the planet Mercury surrounded +by the lustre of sunset, her permanent brilliancy passed without much +notice in the temporary glory of the situation. + +As for Wildeve, his feelings are easy to guess. Obstacles were a +ripening sun to his love, and he was at this moment in a delirium of +exquisite misery. To clasp as his for five minutes what was another +man's through all the rest of the year was a kind of thing he of +all men could appreciate. He had long since begun to sigh again +for Eustacia; indeed, it may be asserted that signing the marriage +register with Thomasin was the natural signal to his heart to return +to its first quarters, and that the extra complication of Eustacia's +marriage was the one addition required to make that return compulsory. + +Thus, for different reasons, what was to the rest an exhilarating +movement was to these two a riding upon the whirlwind. The dance had +come like an irresistible attack upon whatever sense of social order +there was in their minds, to drive them back into old paths which were +now doubly irregular. Through three dances in succession they spun +their way; and then, fatigued with the incessant motion, Eustacia +turned to quit the circle in which she had already remained too long. +Wildeve led her to a grassy mound a few yards distant, where she +sat down, her partner standing beside her. From the time that he +addressed her at the beginning of the dance till now they had not +exchanged a word. + +"The dance and the walking have tired you?" he said tenderly. + +"No; not greatly." + +"It is strange that we should have met here of all places, after +missing each other so long." + +"We have missed because we tried to miss, I suppose." + +"Yes. But you began that proceeding--by breaking a promise." + +"It is scarcely worth while to talk of that now. We have formed other +ties since then--you no less than I." + +"I am sorry to hear that your husband is ill." + +"He is not ill--only incapacitated." + +"Yes: that is what I mean. I sincerely sympathize with you in your +trouble. Fate has treated you cruelly." + +She was silent awhile. "Have you heard that he has chosen to work as +a furze-cutter?" she said in a low, mournful voice. + +"It has been mentioned to me," answered Wildeve hesitatingly. "But I +hardly believed it." + +"It is true. What do you think of me as a furze-cutter's wife?" + +"I think the same as ever of you, Eustacia. Nothing of that sort can +degrade you: you ennoble the occupation of your husband." + +"I wish I could feel it." + +"Is there any chance of Mr. Yeobright getting better?" + +"He thinks so. I doubt it." + +"I was quite surprised to hear that he had taken a cottage. I +thought, in common with other people, that he would have taken you +off to a home in Paris immediately after you had married him. 'What +a gay, bright future she has before her!' I thought. He will, I +suppose, return there with you, if his sight gets strong again?" + +Observing that she did not reply he regarded her more closely. She +was almost weeping. Images of a future never to be enjoyed, the +revived sense of her bitter disappointment, the picture of the +neighbours' suspended ridicule which was raised by Wildeve's words, +had been too much for proud Eustacia's equanimity. + +Wildeve could hardly control his own too forward feelings when he saw +her silent perturbation. But he affected not to notice this, and she +soon recovered her calmness. + +"You do not intend to walk home by yourself?" he asked. + +"O yes," said Eustacia. "What could hurt me on this heath, who have +nothing?" + +"By diverging a little I can make my way home the same as yours. I +shall be glad to keep you company as far as Throope Corner." Seeing +that Eustacia sat on in hesitation he added, "Perhaps you think it +unwise to be seen in the same road with me after the events of last +summer?" + +"Indeed I think no such thing," she said haughtily. "I shall accept +whose company I choose, for all that may be said by the miserable +inhabitants of Egdon." + +"Then let us walk on--if you are ready. Our nearest way is towards +that holly-bush with the dark shadow that you see down there." + +Eustacia arose, and walked beside him in the direction signified, +brushing her way over the damping heath and fern, and followed by the +strains of the merrymakers, who still kept up the dance. The moon had +now waxed bright and silvery, but the heath was proof against such +illumination, and there was to be observed the striking scene of a +dark, rayless tract of country under an atmosphere charged from its +zenith to its extremities with whitest light. To an eye above them +their two faces would have appeared amid the expanse like two pearls +on a table of ebony. + +On this account the irregularities of the path were not visible, and +Wildeve occasionally stumbled; whilst Eustacia found it necessary +to perform some graceful feats of balancing whenever a small tuft +of heather or root of furze protruded itself through the grass of +the narrow track and entangled her feet. At these junctures in her +progress a hand was invariably stretched forward to steady her, +holding her firmly until smooth ground was again reached, when the +hand was again withdrawn to a respectful distance. + +They performed the journey for the most part in silence, and drew +near to Throope Corner, a few hundred yards from which a short path +branched away to Eustacia's house. By degrees they discerned coming +towards them a pair of human figures, apparently of the male sex. + +When they came a little nearer Eustacia broke the silence by saying, +"One of those men is my husband. He promised to come to meet me." + +"And the other is my greatest enemy," said Wildeve. + +"It looks like Diggory Venn." + +"That is the man." + +"It is an awkward meeting," said she; "but such is my fortune. He +knows too much about me, unless he could know more, and so prove +to himself that what he now knows counts for nothing. Well, let it +be: you must deliver me up to them." + +"You will think twice before you direct me to do that. Here is a man +who has not forgotten an item in our meetings at Rainbarrow: he is in +company with your husband. Which of them, seeing us together here, +will believe that our meeting and dancing at the gipsy-party was by +chance?" + +"Very well," she whispered gloomily. "Leave me before they come up." + +Wildeve bade her a tender farewell, and plunged across the fern and +furze, Eustacia slowly walking on. In two or three minutes she met +her husband and his companion. + +"My journey ends here for tonight, reddleman," said Yeobright as soon +as he perceived her. "I turn back with this lady. Good night." + +"Good night, Mr. Yeobright," said Venn. "I hope to see you better +soon." + +The moonlight shone directly upon Venn's face as he spoke, and +revealed all its lines to Eustacia. He was looking suspiciously at +her. That Venn's keen eye had discerned what Yeobright's feeble +vision had not--a man in the act of withdrawing from Eustacia's +side--was within the limits of the probable. + +If Eustacia had been able to follow the reddleman she would soon have +found striking confirmation of her thought. No sooner had Clym given +her his arm and led her off the scene than the reddleman turned +back from the beaten track towards East Egdon, whither he had been +strolling merely to accompany Clym in his walk, Diggory's van being +again in the neighbourhood. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed +the pathless portion of the heath somewhat in the direction which +Wildeve had taken. Only a man accustomed to nocturnal rambles could +at this hour have descended those shaggy slopes with Venn's velocity +without falling headlong into a pit, or snapping off his leg by +jamming his foot into some rabbit burrow. But Venn went on without +much inconvenience to himself, and the course of his scamper was +towards the Quiet Woman Inn. This place he reached in about half an +hour, and he was well aware that no person who had been near Throope +Corner when he started could have got down here before him. + +The lonely inn was not yet closed, though scarcely an individual was +there, the business done being chiefly with travellers who passed the +inn on long journeys, and these had now gone on their way. Venn went +to the public room, called for a mug of ale, and inquired of the maid +in an indifferent tone if Mr. Wildeve was at home. + +Thomasin sat in an inner room and heard Venn's voice. When customers +were present she seldom showed herself, owing to her inherent dislike +for the business; but perceiving that no one else was there tonight +she came out. + +"He is not at home yet, Diggory," she said pleasantly. "But I +expected him sooner. He has been to East Egdon to buy a horse." + +"Did he wear a light wideawake?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I saw him at Throope Corner, leading one home," said Venn drily. +"A beauty, with a white face and a mane as black as night. He will +soon be here, no doubt." Rising and looking for a moment at the pure, +sweet face of Thomasin, over which a shadow of sadness had passed +since the time when he had last seen her, he ventured to add, "Mr. +Wildeve seems to be often away at this time." + +"O yes," cried Thomasin in what was intended to be a tone of gaiety. +"Husbands will play the truant, you know. I wish you could tell me of +some secret plan that would help me to keep him home at my will in +the evenings." + +"I will consider if I know of one," replied Venn in that same light +tone which meant no lightness. And then he bowed in a manner of his +own invention and moved to go. Thomasin offered him her hand; and +without a sigh, though with food for many, the reddleman went out. + +When Wildeve returned, a quarter of an hour later, Thomasin said +simply, and in the abashed manner usual with her now, "Where is the +horse, Damon?" + +"O, I have not bought it, after all. The man asks too much." + +"But somebody saw you at Throope Corner leading it home--a beauty, +with a white face and a mane as black as night." + +"Ah!" said Wildeve, fixing his eyes upon her; "who told you that?" + +"Venn the reddleman." + +The expression of Wildeve's face became curiously condensed. "That +is a mistake--it must have been some one else," he said slowly and +testily, for he perceived that Venn's countermoves had begun again. + + + + +IV + +Rough Coercion Is Employed + + +Those words of Thomasin, which seemed so little, but meant so much, +remained in the ears of Diggory Venn: "Help me to keep him home in the +evenings." + +On this occasion Venn had arrived on Egdon Heath only to cross to the +other side: he had no further connection with the interests of the +Yeobright family, and he had a business of his own to attend to. Yet +he suddenly began to feel himself drifting into the old track of +manoeuvring on Thomasin's account. + +He sat in his van and considered. From Thomasin's words and manner +he had plainly gathered that Wildeve neglected her. For whom could +he neglect her if not for Eustacia? Yet it was scarcely credible +that things had come to such a head as to indicate that Eustacia +systematically encouraged him. Venn resolved to reconnoitre somewhat +carefully the lonely road which led along the vale from Wildeve's +dwelling to Clym's house at Alderworth. + +At this time, as had been seen, Wildeve was quite innocent of any +predetermined act of intrigue, and except at the dance on the green +he had not once met Eustacia since her marriage. But that the spirit +of intrigue was in him had been shown by a recent romantic habit of +his: a habit of going out after dark and strolling towards Alderworth, +there looking at the moon and stars, looking at Eustacia's house, and +walking back at leisure. + +Accordingly, when watching on the night after the festival, the +reddleman saw him ascend by the little path, lean over the front gate +of Clym's garden, sigh, and turn to go back again. It was plain that +Wildeve's intrigue was rather ideal than real. Venn retreated before +him down the hill to a place where the path was merely a deep groove +between the heather; here he mysteriously bent over the ground for a +few minutes, and retired. When Wildeve came on to that spot his ankle +was caught by something, and he fell headlong. + +As soon as he had recovered the power of respiration he sat up and +listened. There was not a sound in the gloom beyond the spiritless +stir of the summer wind. Feeling about for the obstacle which had +flung him down, he discovered that two tufts of heath had been tied +together across the path, forming a loop, which to a traveller was +certain overthrow. Wildeve pulled off the string that bound them, and +went on with tolerable quickness. On reaching home he found the cord +to be of a reddish colour. It was just what he had expected. + +Although his weaknesses were not specially those akin to physical +fear, the species of _coup-de-Jarnac_ from one he knew too well +troubled the mind of Wildeve. But his movements were unaltered +thereby. A night or two later he again went along the vale to +Alderworth, taking the precaution of keeping out of any path. The +sense that he was watched, that craft was employed to circumvent his +errant tastes, added piquancy to a journey so entirely sentimental, +so long as the danger was of no fearful sort. He imagined that Venn +and Mrs. Yeobright were in league, and felt that there was a certain +legitimacy in combating such a coalition. + +The heath tonight appeared to be totally deserted: and Wildeve, after +looking over Eustacia's garden gate for some little time, with a cigar +in his mouth, was tempted by the fascination that emotional smuggling +had for his nature to advance towards the window, which was not quite +closed, the blind being only partly drawn down. He could see into +the room, and Eustacia was sitting there alone. Wildeve contemplated +her for a minute, and then retreating into the heath beat the ferns +lightly, whereupon moths flew out alarmed. Securing one, he returned +to the window, and holding the moth to the chink, opened his hand. +The moth made towards the candle upon Eustacia's table, hovered round +it two or three times, and flew into the flame. + +Eustacia started up. This had been a well-known signal in old times +when Wildeve had used to come secretly wooing to Mistover. She at +once knew that Wildeve was outside, but before she could consider +what to do her husband came in from upstairs. Eustacia's face burnt +crimson at the unexpected collision of incidents, and filled it with +an animation that it too frequently lacked. + +"You have a very high colour, dearest," said Yeobright, when he came +close enough to see it. "Your appearance would be no worse if it were +always so." + +"I am warm," said Eustacia. "I think I will go into the air for a few +minutes." + +"Shall I go with you?" + +"O no. I am only going to the gate." + +She arose, but before she had time to get out of the room a loud +rapping began upon the front door. + +"I'll go--I'll go," said Eustacia in an unusually quick tone for her; +and she glanced eagerly towards the window whence the moth had flown; +but nothing appeared there. + +"You had better not at this time of the evening," he said. Clym +stepped before her into the passage, and Eustacia waited, her +somnolent manner covering her inner heat and agitation. + +She listened, and Clym opened the door. No words were uttered +outside, and presently he closed it and came back, saying, "Nobody +was there. I wonder what that could have meant?" + +He was left to wonder during the rest of the evening, for no +explanation offered itself, and Eustacia said nothing, the additional +fact that she knew of only adding more mystery to the performance. + +Meanwhile a little drama had been acted outside which saved Eustacia +from all possibility of compromising herself that evening at least. +While Wildeve had been preparing his moth-signal another person had +come behind him up to the gate. This man, who carried a gun in his +hand, looked on for a moment at the other's operation by the window, +walked up to the house, knocked at the door, and then vanished round +the corner and over the hedge. + +"Damn him!" said Wildeve. "He has been watching me again." + +As his signal had been rendered futile by this uproarious rapping +Wildeve withdrew, passed out at the gate, and walked quickly down +the path without thinking of anything except getting away unnoticed. +Half-way down the hill the path ran near a knot of stunted hollies, +which in the general darkness of the scene stood as the pupil in a +black eye. When Wildeve reached this point a report startled his ear, +and a few spent gunshots fell among the leaves around him. + +There was no doubt that he himself was the cause of that gun's +discharge; and he rushed into the clump of hollies, beating the bushes +furiously with his stick; but nobody was there. This attack was a +more serious matter than the last, and it was some time before Wildeve +recovered his equanimity. A new and most unpleasant system of menace +had begun, and the intent appeared to be to do him grievous bodily +harm. Wildeve had looked upon Venn's first attempt as a species of +horse-play, which the reddleman had indulged in for want of knowing +better; but now the boundary line was passed which divides the +annoying from the perilous. + +Had Wildeve known how thoroughly in earnest Venn had become he +might have been still more alarmed. The reddleman had been almost +exasperated by the sight of Wildeve outside Clym's house, and he was +prepared to go to any lengths short of absolutely shooting him, to +terrify the young innkeeper out of his recalcitrant impulses. The +doubtful legitimacy of such rough coercion did not disturb the mind +of Venn. It troubles few such minds in such cases, and sometimes this +is not to be regretted. From the impeachment of Strafford to Farmer +Lynch's short way with the scamps of Virginia there have been many +triumphs of justice which are mockeries of law. + +About half a mile below Clym's secluded dwelling lay a hamlet where +lived one of the two constables who preserved the peace in the parish +of Alderworth, and Wildeve went straight to the constable's cottage. +Almost the first thing that he saw on opening the door was the +constable's truncheon hanging to a nail, as if to assure him that +here were the means to his purpose. On inquiry, however, of the +constable's wife he learnt that the constable was not at home. +Wildeve said he would wait. + +The minutes ticked on, and the constable did not arrive. Wildeve +cooled down from his state of high indignation to a restless +dissatisfaction with himself, the scene, the constable's wife, and the +whole set of circumstances. He arose and left the house. Altogether, +the experience of that evening had had a cooling, not to say a +chilling, effect on misdirected tenderness, and Wildeve was in no +mood to ramble again to Alderworth after nightfall in hope of a stray +glance from Eustacia. + +Thus far the reddleman had been tolerably successful in his rude +contrivances for keeping down Wildeve's inclination to rove in the +evening. He had nipped in the bud the possible meeting between +Eustacia and her old lover this very night. But he had not +anticipated that the tendency of his action would be to divert +Wildeve's movement rather than to stop it. The gambling with the +guineas had not conduced to make him a welcome guest to Clym; but to +call upon his wife's relative was natural, and he was determined to +see Eustacia. It was necessary to choose some less untoward hour than +ten o'clock at night. "Since it is unsafe to go in the evening," he +said, "I'll go by day." + +Meanwhile Venn had left the heath and gone to call upon Mrs. +Yeobright, with whom he had been on friendly terms since she had +learnt what a providential countermove he had made towards the +restitution of the family guineas. She wondered at the lateness of +his call, but had no objection to see him. + +He gave her a full account of Clym's affliction, and of the state in +which he was living; then, referring to Thomasin, touched gently upon +the apparent sadness of her days. "Now, ma'am, depend upon it," he +said, "you couldn't do a better thing for either of 'em than to make +yourself at home in their houses, even if there should be a little +rebuff at first." + +"Both she and my son disobeyed me in marrying; therefore I have +no interest in their households. Their troubles are of their own +making." Mrs. Yeobright tried to speak severely; but the account of +her son's state had moved her more than she cared to show. + +"Your visits would make Wildeve walk straighter than he is inclined +to do, and might prevent unhappiness down the heath." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I saw something tonight out there which I didn't like at all. I wish +your son's house and Mr. Wildeve's were a hundred miles apart instead +of four or five." + +"Then there WAS an understanding between him and Clym's wife when he +made a fool of Thomasin!" + +"We'll hope there's no understanding now." + +"And our hope will probably be very vain. O Clym! O Thomasin!" + +"There's no harm done yet. In fact, I've persuaded Wildeve to mind +his own business." + +"How?" + +"O, not by talking--by a plan of mine called the silent system." + +"I hope you'll succeed." + +"I shall if you help me by calling and making friends with your son. +You'll have a chance then of using your eyes." + +"Well, since it has come to this," said Mrs. Yeobright sadly, "I will +own to you, reddleman, that I thought of going. I should be much +happier if we were reconciled. The marriage is unalterable, my life +may be cut short, and I should wish to die in peace. He is my only +son; and since sons are made of such stuff I am not sorry I have no +other. As for Thomasin, I never expected much from her; and she has +not disappointed me. But I forgave her long ago; and I forgive him +now. I'll go." + +At this very time of the reddleman's conversation with Mrs. Yeobright +at Blooms-End another conversation on the same subject was languidly +proceeding at Alderworth. + +All the day Clym had borne himself as if his mind were too full of its +own matter to allow him to care about outward things, and his words +now showed what had occupied his thoughts. It was just after the +mysterious knocking that he began the theme. "Since I have been away +today, Eustacia, I have considered that something must be done to heal +up this ghastly breach between my dear mother and myself. It troubles +me." + +"What do you propose to do?" said Eustacia abstractedly, for she could +not clear away from her the excitement caused by Wildeve's recent +manoeuvre for an interview. + +"You seem to take a very mild interest in what I propose, little or +much," said Clym, with tolerable warmth. + +"You mistake me," she answered, reviving at his reproach. "I am only +thinking." + +"What of?" + +"Partly of that moth whose skeleton is getting burnt up in the wick of +the candle," she said slowly. "But you know I always take an interest +in what you say." + +"Very well, dear. Then I think I must go and call upon her."... He +went on with tender feeling: "It is a thing I am not at all too proud +to do, and only a fear that I might irritate her has kept me away so +long. But I must do something. It is wrong in me to allow this sort +of thing to go on." + +"What have you to blame yourself about?" + +"She is getting old, and her life is lonely, and I am her only son." + +"She has Thomasin." + +"Thomasin is not her daughter; and if she were that would not excuse +me. But this is beside the point. I have made up my mind to go to +her, and all I wish to ask you is whether you will do your best to +help me--that is, forget the past; and if she shows her willingness to +be reconciled, meet her half-way by welcoming her to our house, or by +accepting a welcome to hers?" + +At first Eustacia closed her lips as if she would rather do anything +on the whole globe than what he suggested. But the lines of her mouth +softened with thought, though not so far as they might have softened; +and she said, "I will put nothing in your way; but after what has +passed it is asking too much that I go and make advances." + +"You never distinctly told me what did pass between you." + +"I could not do it then, nor can I now. Sometimes more bitterness is +sown in five minutes than can be got rid of in a whole life; and that +may be the case here." She paused a few moments, and added, "If you +had never returned to your native place, Clym, what a blessing it +would have been for you!... It has altered the destinies of--" + +"Three people." + +"Five," Eustacia thought; but she kept that in. + + + + +V + +The Journey across the Heath + + +Thursday, the thirty-first of August, was one of a series of days +during which snug houses were stifling, and when cool draughts were +treats; when cracks appeared in clayey gardens, and were called +"earthquakes" by apprehensive children; when loose spokes were +discovered in the wheels of carts and carriages; and when stinging +insects haunted the air, the earth, and every drop of water that was +to be found. + +In Mrs. Yeobright's garden large-leaved plants of a tender kind +flagged by ten o'clock in the morning; rhubarb bent downward at +eleven; and even stiff cabbages were limp by noon. + +It was about eleven o'clock on this day that Mrs. Yeobright started +across the heath towards her son's house, to do her best in getting +reconciled with him and Eustacia, in conformity with her words to the +reddleman. She had hoped to be well advanced in her walk before the +heat of the day was at its highest, but after setting out she found +that this was not to be done. The sun had branded the whole heath +with his mark, even the purple heath-flowers having put on a brownness +under the dry blazes of the few preceding days. Every valley was +filled with air like that of a kiln, and the clean quartz sand of +the winter water-courses, which formed summer paths, had undergone +a species of incineration since the drought had set in. + +In cool, fresh weather Mrs. Yeobright would have found no +inconvenience in walking to Alderworth, but the present torrid attack +made the journey a heavy undertaking for a woman past middle age; and +at the end of the third mile she wished that she had hired Fairway to +drive her a portion at least of the distance. But from the point at +which she had arrived it was as easy to reach Clym's house as to get +home again. So she went on, the air around her pulsating silently, +and oppressing the earth with lassitude. She looked at the sky +overhead, and saw that the sapphirine hue of the zenith in spring and +early summer had been replaced by a metallic violet. + +Occasionally she came to a spot where independent worlds of ephemerons +were passing their time in mad carousal, some in the air, some on the +hot ground and vegetation, some in the tepid and stringy water of a +nearly dried pool. All the shallower ponds had decreased to a vaporous +mud amid which the maggoty shapes of innumerable obscure creatures +could be indistinctly seen, heaving and wallowing with enjoyment. +Being a woman not disinclined to philosophize she sometimes sat down +under her umbrella to rest and to watch their happiness, for a certain +hopefulness as to the result of her visit gave ease to her mind, and +between important thoughts left it free to dwell on any infinitesimal +matter which caught her eyes. + +Mrs. Yeobright had never before been to her son's house, and its +exact position was unknown to her. She tried one ascending path and +another, and found that they led her astray. Retracing her steps, she +came again to an open level, where she perceived at a distance a man +at work. She went towards him and inquired the way. + +The labourer pointed out the direction, and added, "Do you see that +furze-cutter, ma'am, going up that footpath yond?" + +Mrs. Yeobright strained her eyes, and at last said that she did +perceive him. + +"Well, if you follow him you can make no mistake. He's going to the +same place, ma'am." + +She followed the figure indicated. He appeared of a russet hue, +not more distinguishable from the scene around him than the green +caterpillar from the leaf it feeds on. His progress when actually +walking was more rapid than Mrs. Yeobright's; but she was enabled to +keep at an equable distance from him by his habit of stopping whenever +he came to a brake of brambles, where he paused awhile. On coming +in her turn to each of these spots she found half a dozen long limp +brambles which he had cut from the bush during his halt and laid +out straight beside the path. They were evidently intended for +furze-faggot bonds which he meant to collect on his return. + +The silent being who thus occupied himself seemed to be of no more +account in life than an insect. He appeared as a mere parasite of the +heath, fretting its surface in his daily labour as a moth frets a +garment, entirely engrossed with its products, having no knowledge of +anything in the world but fern, furze, heath, lichens, and moss. + +The furze-cutter was so absorbed in the business of his journey that +he never turned his head; and his leather-legged and gauntleted form +at length became to her as nothing more than a moving handpost to +show her the way. Suddenly she was attracted to his individuality +by observing peculiarities in his walk. It was a gait she had seen +somewhere before; and the gait revealed the man to her, as the gait +of Ahimaaz in the distant plain made him known to the watchman of the +king. "His walk is exactly as my husband's used to be," she said; and +then the thought burst upon her that the furze-cutter was her son. + +She was scarcely able to familiarize herself with this strange +reality. She had been told that Clym was in the habit of cutting +furze, but she had supposed that he occupied himself with the labour +only at odd times, by way of useful pastime; yet she now beheld him as +a furze-cutter and nothing more--wearing the regulation dress of the +craft, and thinking the regulation thoughts, to judge by his motions. +Planning a dozen hasty schemes for at once preserving him and Eustacia +from this mode of life she throbbingly followed the way, and saw him +enter his own door. + +At one side of Clym's house was a knoll, and on the top of the knoll a +clump of fir trees so highly thrust up into the sky that their foliage +from a distance appeared as a black spot in the air above the crown +of the hill. On reaching this place Mrs. Yeobright felt distressingly +agitated, weary, and unwell. She ascended, and sat down under their +shade to recover herself, and to consider how best to break the ground +with Eustacia, so as not to irritate a woman underneath whose apparent +indolence lurked passions even stronger and more active than her own. + +The trees beneath which she sat were singularly battered, rude, and +wild, and for a few minutes Mrs. Yeobright dismissed thoughts of her +own storm-broken and exhausted state to contemplate theirs. Not a +bough in the nine trees which composed the group but was splintered, +lopped, and distorted by the fierce weather that there held them at +its mercy whenever it prevailed. Some were blasted and split as if by +lightning, black stains as from fire marking their sides, while the +ground at their feet was strewn with dead fir-needles and heaps of +cones blown down in the gales of past years. The place was called the +Devil's Bellows, and it was only necessary to come there on a March or +November night to discover the forcible reasons for that name. On the +present heated afternoon, when no perceptible wind was blowing, the +trees kept up a perpetual moan which one could hardly believe to be +caused by the air. + +Here she sat for twenty minutes or more ere she could summon +resolution to go down to the door, her courage being lowered to zero +by her physical lassitude. To any other person than a mother it might +have seemed a little humiliating that she, the elder of the two women, +should be the first to make advances. But Mrs. Yeobright had well +considered all that, and she only thought how best to make her visit +appear to Eustacia not abject but wise. + +From her elevated position the exhausted woman could perceive the roof +of the house below, and the garden and the whole enclosure of the +little domicile. And now, at the moment of rising, she saw a second +man approaching the gate. His manner was peculiar, hesitating, and +not that of a person come on business or by invitation. He surveyed +the house with interest, and then walked round and scanned the outer +boundary of the garden, as one might have done had it been the +birthplace of Shakespeare, the prison of Mary Stuart, or the Château +of Hougomont. After passing round and again reaching the gate he went +in. Mrs. Yeobright was vexed at this, having reckoned on finding her +son and his wife by themselves; but a moment's thought showed her that +the presence of an acquaintance would take off the awkwardness of +her first appearance in the house, by confining the talk to general +matters until she had begun to feel comfortable with them. She came +down the hill to the gate, and looked into the hot garden. + +There lay the cat asleep on the bare gravel of the path, as if beds, +rugs, and carpets were unendurable. The leaves of the hollyhocks hung +like half-closed umbrellas, the sap almost simmered in the stems, and +foliage with a smooth surface glared like metallic mirrors. A small +apple tree, of the sort called Ratheripe, grew just inside the gate, +the only one which throve in the garden, by reason of the lightness of +the soil; and among the fallen apples on the ground beneath were wasps +rolling drunk with the juice, or creeping about the little caves in +each fruit which they had eaten out before stupefied by its sweetness. +By the door lay Clym's furze-hook and the last handful of faggot-bonds +she had seen him gather; they had plainly been thrown down there as he +entered the house. + + + + +VI + +A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian + + +Wildeve, as has been stated, was determined to visit Eustacia boldly, +by day, and on the easy terms of a relation, since the reddleman +had spied out and spoilt his walks to her by night. The spell that +she had thrown over him in the moonlight dance made it impossible +for a man having no strong puritanic force within him to keep away +altogether. He merely calculated on meeting her and her husband in an +ordinary manner, chatting a little while, and leaving again. Every +outward sign was to be conventional; but the one great fact would be +there to satisfy him: he would see her. He did not even desire Clym's +absence, since it was just possible that Eustacia might resent any +situation which could compromise her dignity as a wife, whatever the +state of her heart towards him. Women were often so. + +He went accordingly; and it happened that the time of his arrival +coincided with that of Mrs. Yeobright's pause on the hill near the +house. When he had looked round the premises in the manner she had +noticed he went and knocked at the door. There was a few minutes' +interval, and then the key turned in the lock, the door opened, and +Eustacia herself confronted him. + +Nobody could have imagined from her bearing now that here stood the +woman who had joined with him in the impassioned dance of the week +before, unless indeed he could have penetrated below the surface and +gauged the real depth of that still stream. + +"I hope you reached home safely?" said Wildeve. + +"O yes," she carelessly returned. + +"And were you not tired the next day? I feared you might be." + +"I was rather. You need not speak low--nobody will overhear us. My +small servant is gone on an errand to the village." + +"Then Clym is not at home?" + +"Yes, he is." + +"O! I thought that perhaps you had locked the door because you were +alone and were afraid of tramps." + +"No--here is my husband." + +They had been standing in the entry. Closing the front door and +turning the key, as before, she threw open the door of the adjoining +room and asked him to walk in. Wildeve entered, the room appearing to +be empty; but as soon as he had advanced a few steps he started. On +the hearth rug lay Clym asleep. Beside him were the leggings, thick +boots, leather gloves, and sleeve-waistcoat in which he worked. + +"You may go in; you will not disturb him," she said, following behind. +"My reason for fastening the door is that he may not be intruded upon +by any chance comer while lying here, if I should be in the garden or +upstairs." + +"Why is he sleeping there?" said Wildeve in low tones. + +"He is very weary. He went out at half-past four this morning, and +has been working ever since. He cuts furze because it is the only +thing he can do that does not put any strain upon his poor eyes." The +contrast between the sleeper's appearance and Wildeve's at this moment +was painfully apparent to Eustacia, Wildeve being elegantly dressed +in a new summer suit and light hat; and she continued: "Ah! you don't +know how differently he appeared when I first met him, though it is +such a little while ago. His hands were as white and soft as mine; +and look at them now, how rough and brown they are! His complexion is +by nature fair, and that rusty look he has now, all of a colour with +his leather clothes, is caused by the burning of the sun." + +"Why does he go out at all?" Wildeve whispered. + +"Because he hates to be idle; though what he earns doesn't add much +to our exchequer. However, he says that when people are living upon +their capital they must keep down current expenses by turning a penny +where they can." + +"The fates have not been kind to you, Eustacia Yeobright." + +"I have nothing to thank them for." + +"Nor has he--except for their one great gift to him." + +"What's that?" + +Wildeve looked her in the eyes. + +Eustacia blushed for the first time that day. "Well, I am a +questionable gift," she said quietly. "I thought you meant the gift +of content--which he has, and I have not." + +"I can understand content in such a case--though how the outward +situation can attract him puzzles me." + +"That's because you don't know him. He's an enthusiast about ideas, +and careless about outward things. He often reminds me of the Apostle +Paul." + +"I am glad to hear that he's so grand in character as that." + +"Yes; but the worst of it is that though Paul was excellent as a man +in the Bible he would hardly have done in real life." + +Their voices had instinctively dropped lower, though at first they +had taken no particular care to avoid awakening Clym. "Well, if that +means that your marriage is a misfortune to you, you know who is to +blame," said Wildeve. + +"The marriage is no misfortune in itself," she retorted with some +little petulance. "It is simply the accident which has happened since +that has been the cause of my ruin. I have certainly got thistles for +figs in a worldly sense, but how could I tell what time would bring +forth?" + +"Sometimes, Eustacia, I think it is a judgment upon you. You rightly +belonged to me, you know; and I had no idea of losing you." + +"No, it was not my fault! Two could not belong to you; and remember +that, before I was aware, you turned aside to another woman. It was +cruel levity in you to do that. I never dreamt of playing such a game +on my side till you began it on yours." + +"I meant nothing by it," replied Wildeve. "It was a mere interlude. +Men are given to the trick of having a passing fancy for somebody else +in the midst of a permanent love, which reasserts itself afterwards +just as before. On account of your rebellious manner to me I was +tempted to go further than I should have done; and when you still +would keep playing the same tantalizing part I went further still, +and married her." Turning and looking again at the unconscious form +of Clym, he murmured, "I am afraid that you don't value your prize, +Clym... He ought to be happier than I in one thing at least. He may +know what it is to come down in the world, and to be afflicted with a +great personal calamity; but he probably doesn't know what it is to +lose the woman he loved." + +"He is not ungrateful for winning her," whispered Eustacia, "and in +that respect he is a good man. Many women would go far for such a +husband. But do I desire unreasonably much in wanting what is called +life--music, poetry, passion, war, and all the beating and pulsing +that are going on in the great arteries of the world? That was the +shape of my youthful dream; but I did not get it. Yet I thought I saw +the way to it in my Clym." + +"And you only married him on that account?" + +"There you mistake me. I married him because I loved him, but I won't +say that I didn't love him partly because I thought I saw a promise of +that life in him." + +"You have dropped into your old mournful key." + +"But I am not going to be depressed," she cried perversely. "I began +a new system by going to that dance, and I mean to stick to it. Clym +can sing merrily; why should not I?" + +Wildeve looked thoughtfully at her. "It is easier to say you will +sing than to do it; though if I could I would encourage you in your +attempt. But as life means nothing to me, without one thing which is +now impossible, you will forgive me for not being able to encourage +you." + +"Damon, what is the matter with you, that you speak like that?" she +asked, raising her deep shady eyes to his. + +"That's a thing I shall never tell plainly; and perhaps if I try to +tell you in riddles you will not care to guess them." + +Eustacia remained silent for a minute, and she said, "We are in a +strange relationship today. You mince matters to an uncommon nicety. +You mean, Damon, that you still love me. Well, that gives me sorrow, +for I am not made so entirely happy by my marriage that I am willing +to spurn you for the information, as I ought to do. But we have said +too much about this. Do you mean to wait until my husband is awake?" + +"I thought to speak to him; but it is unnecessary. Eustacia, if I +offend you by not forgetting you, you are right to mention it; but do +not talk of spurning." + +She did not reply, and they stood looking musingly at Clym as he slept +on in that profound sleep which is the result of physical labour +carried on in circumstances that wake no nervous fear. + +"God, how I envy him that sweet sleep!" said Wildeve. "I have not +slept like that since I was a boy--years and years ago." + +While they thus watched him a click at the gate was audible, and a +knock came to the door. Eustacia went to a window and looked out. + +Her countenance changed. First she became crimson, and then the red +subsided till it even partially left her lips. + +"Shall I go away?" said Wildeve, standing up. + +"I hardly know." + +"Who is it?" + +"Mrs. Yeobright. O, what she said to me that day! I cannot understand +this visit--what does she mean? And she suspects that past time of +ours." + +"I am in your hands. If you think she had better not see me here I'll +go into the next room." + +"Well, yes: go." + +Wildeve at once withdrew; but before he had been half a minute in the +adjoining apartment Eustacia came after him. + +"No," she said, "we won't have any of this. If she comes in she must +see you--and think if she likes there's something wrong! But how can I +open the door to her, when she dislikes me--wishes to see not me, but +her son? I won't open the door!" + +Mrs. Yeobright knocked again more loudly. + +"Her knocking will, in all likelihood, awaken him," continued +Eustacia, "and then he will let her in himself. Ah--listen." + +They could hear Clym moving in the other room, as if disturbed by the +knocking, and he uttered the word "Mother." + +"Yes--he is awake--he will go to the door," she said, with a breath of +relief. "Come this way. I have a bad name with her, and you must not +be seen. Thus I am obliged to act by stealth, not because I do ill, +but because others are pleased to say so." + +By this time she had taken him to the back door, which was open, +disclosing a path leading down the garden. "Now, one word, Damon," +she remarked as he stepped forth. "This is your first visit here; let +it be your last. We have been hot lovers in our time, but it won't do +now. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," said Wildeve. "I have had all I came for, and I am +satisfied." + +"What was it?" + +"A sight of you. Upon my eternal honour I came for no more." + +Wildeve kissed his hand to the beautiful girl he addressed, and passed +into the garden, where she watched him down the path, over the stile +at the end, and into the ferns outside, which brushed his hips as he +went along till he became lost in their thickets. When he had quite +gone she slowly turned, and directed her attention to the interior of +the house. + +But it was possible that her presence might not be desired by Clym +and his mother at this moment of their first meeting, or that it +would be superfluous. At all events, she was in no hurry to meet Mrs. +Yeobright. She resolved to wait till Clym came to look for her, and +glided back into the garden. Here she idly occupied herself for a few +minutes, till finding no notice was taken of her she retraced her +steps through the house to the front, where she listened for voices +in the parlour. But hearing none she opened the door and went in. To +her astonishment Clym lay precisely as Wildeve and herself had left +him, his sleep apparently unbroken. He had been disturbed and made to +dream and murmur by the knocking, but he had not awakened. Eustacia +hastened to the door, and in spite of her reluctance to open it to a +woman who had spoken of her so bitterly, she unfastened it and looked +out. Nobody was to be seen. There, by the scraper, lay Clym's hook +and the handful of faggot-bonds he had brought home; in front of her +were the empty path, the garden gate standing slightly ajar; and, +beyond, the great valley of purple heath thrilling silently in the +sun. Mrs. Yeobright was gone. + + + +Clym's mother was at this time following a path which lay hidden from +Eustacia by a shoulder of the hill. Her walk thither from the garden +gate had been hasty and determined, as of a woman who was now no less +anxious to escape from the scene than she had previously been to enter +it. Her eyes were fixed on the ground; within her two sights were +graven--that of Clym's hook and brambles at the door, and that of a +woman's face at a window. Her lips trembled, becoming unnaturally +thin as she murmured, "'Tis too much--Clym, how can he bear to do it! +He is at home; and yet he lets her shut the door against me!" + +In her anxiety to get out of the direct view of the house she had +diverged from the straightest path homeward, and while looking about +to regain it she came upon a little boy gathering whortleberries in +a hollow. The boy was Johnny Nunsuch, who had been Eustacia's stoker +at the bonfire, and, with the tendency of a minute body to gravitate +towards a greater, he began hovering round Mrs. Yeobright as soon as +she appeared, and trotted on beside her without perceptible +consciousness of his act. + +Mrs. Yeobright spoke to him as one in a mesmeric sleep. "'Tis a long +way home, my child, and we shall not get there till evening." + +"I shall," said her small companion. "I am going to play marnels +afore supper, and we go to supper at six o'clock, because father comes +home. Does your father come home at six too?" + +"No, he never comes; nor my son either, nor anybody." + +"What have made you so down? Have you seen a ooser?" + +"I have seen what's worse--a woman's face looking at me through a +window-pane." + +"Is that a bad sight?" + +"Yes. It is always a bad sight to see a woman looking out at a weary +wayfarer and not letting her in." + +"Once when I went to Throope Great Pond to catch effets I seed myself +looking up at myself, and I was frightened and jumped back like +anything." + +..."If they had only shown signs of meeting my advances half-way how +well it might have been done! But there is no chance. Shut out! She +must have set him against me. Can there be beautiful bodies without +hearts inside? I think so. I would not have done it against a +neighbour's cat on such a fiery day as this!" + +"What is it you say?" + +"Never again--never! Not even if they send for me!" + +"You must be a very curious woman to talk like that." + +"O no, not at all," she said, returning to the boy's prattle. "Most +people who grow up and have children talk as I do. When you grow up +your mother will talk as I do too." + +"I hope she won't; because 'tis very bad to talk nonsense." + +"Yes, child; it is nonsense, I suppose. Are you not nearly spent with +the heat?" + +"Yes. But not so much as you be." + +"How do you know?" + +"Your face is white and wet, and your head is hanging-down-like." + +"Ah, I am exhausted from inside." + +"Why do you, every time you take a step, go like this?" The child in +speaking gave to his motion the jerk and limp of an invalid. + +"Because I have a burden which is more than I can bear." + +The little boy remained silently pondering, and they tottered on side +by side until more than a quarter of an hour had elapsed, when Mrs. +Yeobright, whose weakness plainly increased, said to him, "I must sit +down here to rest." + +When she had seated herself he looked long in her face and said, "How +funny you draw your breath--like a lamb when you drive him till he's +nearly done for. Do you always draw your breath like that?" + +"Not always." Her voice was now so low as to be scarcely above a +whisper. + +"You will go to sleep there, I suppose, won't you? You have shut your +eyes already." + +"No. I shall not sleep much till--another day, and then I hope to have +a long, long one--very long. Now can you tell me if Rimsmoor Pond is +dry this summer?" + +"Rimsmoor Pond is, but Oker's Pool isn't, because he is deep, and is +never dry--'tis just over there." + +"Is the water clear?" + +"Yes, middling--except where the heath-croppers walk into it." + +"Then, take this, and go as fast as you can, and dip me up the +clearest you can find. I am very faint." + +She drew from the small willow reticule that she carried in her hand +an old-fashioned china teacup without a handle; it was one of half a +dozen of the same sort lying in the reticule, which she had preserved +ever since her childhood, and had brought with her today as a small +present for Clym and Eustacia. + +The boy started on his errand, and soon came back with the water, +such as it was. Mrs. Yeobright attempted to drink, but it was so warm +as to give her nausea, and she threw it away. Afterwards she still +remained sitting, with her eyes closed. + +The boy waited, played near her, caught several of the little brown +butterflies which abounded, and then said as he waited again, "I like +going on better than biding still. Will you soon start again?" + +"I don't know." + +"I wish I might go on by myself," he resumed, fearing, apparently, +that he was to be pressed into some unpleasant service. "Do you want +me any more, please?" + +Mrs. Yeobright made no reply. + +"What shall I tell mother?" the boy continued. + +"Tell her you have seen a broken-hearted woman cast off by her son." + +Before quite leaving her he threw upon her face a wistful glance, +as if he had misgivings on the generosity of forsaking her thus. He +gazed into her face in a vague, wondering manner, like that of one +examining some strange old manuscript the key to whose characters +is undiscoverable. He was not so young as to be absolutely without +a sense that sympathy was demanded, he was not old enough to be +free from the terror felt in childhood at beholding misery in adult +quarters hitherto deemed impregnable; and whether she were in a +position to cause trouble or to suffer from it, whether she and her +affliction were something to pity or something to fear, it was beyond +him to decide. He lowered his eyes and went on without another word. +Before he had gone half a mile he had forgotten all about her, except +that she was a woman who had sat down to rest. + +Mrs. Yeobright's exertions, physical and emotional, had well-nigh +prostrated her; but she continued to creep along in short stages with +long breaks between. The sun had now got far to the west of south and +stood directly in her face, like some merciless incendiary, brand +in hand, waiting to consume her. With the departure of the boy +all visible animation disappeared from the landscape, though the +intermittent husky notes of the male grasshoppers from every tuft of +furze were enough to show that amid the prostration of the larger +animal species an unseen insect world was busy in all the fullness of +life. + +In two hours she reached a slope about three-fourths the whole +distance from Alderworth to her own home, where a little patch of +shepherd's-thyme intruded upon the path; and she sat down upon the +perfumed mat it formed there. In front of her a colony of ants had +established a thoroughfare across the way, where they toiled a +never-ending and heavy-laden throng. To look down upon them was like +observing a city street from the top of a tower. She remembered +that this bustle of ants had been in progress for years at the same +spot--doubtless those of the old times were the ancestors of these +which walked there now. She leant back to obtain more thorough rest, +and the soft eastern portion of the sky was as great a relief to her +eyes as the thyme was to her head. While she looked a heron arose on +that side of the sky and flew on with his face towards the sun. He +had come dripping wet from some pool in the valleys, and as he flew +the edges and lining of his wings, his thighs, and his breast were +so caught by the bright sunbeams that he appeared as if formed of +burnished silver. Up in the zenith where he was seemed a free and +happy place, away from all contact with the earthly ball to which she +was pinioned; and she wished that she could arise uncrushed from its +surface and fly as he flew then. + +But, being a mother, it was inevitable that she should soon cease to +ruminate upon her own condition. Had the track of her next thought +been marked by a streak in the air, like the path of a meteor, +it would have shown a direction contrary to the heron's, and have +descended to the eastward upon the roof of Clym's house. + + + + +VII + +The Tragic Meeting of Two Old Friends + + +He in the meantime had aroused himself from sleep, sat up, and looked +around. Eustacia was sitting in a chair hard by him, and though she +held a book in her hand she had not looked into it for some time. + +"Well, indeed!" said Clym, brushing his eyes with his hands. "How +soundly I have slept! I have had such a tremendous dream, too: one I +shall never forget." + +"I thought you had been dreaming," said she. + +"Yes. It was about my mother. I dreamt that I took you to her house +to make up differences, and when we got there we couldn't get in, +though she kept on crying to us for help. However, dreams are dreams. +What o'clock is it, Eustacia?" + +"Half-past two." + +"So late, is it? I didn't mean to stay so long. By the time I have +had something to eat it will be after three." + +"Ann is not come back from the village, and I thought I would let you +sleep on till she returned." + +Clym went to the window and looked out. Presently he said, musingly, +"Week after week passes, and yet mother does not come. I thought I +should have heard something from her long before this." + +Misgiving, regret, fear, resolution, ran their swift course of +expression in Eustacia's dark eyes. She was face to face with a +monstrous difficulty, and she resolved to get free of it by +postponement. + +"I must certainly go to Blooms-End soon," he continued, "and I think +I had better go alone." He picked up his leggings and gloves, threw +them down again, and added, "As dinner will be so late today I will +not go back to the heath, but work in the garden till the evening, and +then, when it will be cooler, I will walk to Blooms-End. I am quite +sure that if I make a little advance mother will be willing to forget +all. It will be rather late before I can get home, as I shall not be +able to do the distance either way in less than an hour and a half. +But you will not mind for one evening, dear? What are you thinking of +to make you look so abstracted?" + +"I cannot tell you," she said heavily. "I wish we didn't live here, +Clym. The world seems all wrong in this place." + +"Well--if we make it so. I wonder if Thomasin has been to Blooms-End +lately. I hope so. But probably not, as she is, I believe, expecting +to be confined in a month or so. I wish I had thought of that before. +Poor mother must indeed be very lonely." + +"I don't like you going tonight." + +"Why not tonight?" + +"Something may be said which will terribly injure me." + +"My mother is not vindictive," said Clym, his colour faintly rising. + +"But I wish you would not go," Eustacia repeated in a low tone. "If +you agree not to go tonight I promise to go by myself to her house +tomorrow, and make it up with her, and wait till you fetch me." + +"Why do you want to do that at this particular time, when at every +previous time that I have proposed it you have refused?" + +"I cannot explain further than that I should like to see her alone +before you go," she answered, with an impatient move of her head, and +looking at him with an anxiety more frequently seen upon those of a +sanguine temperament than upon such as herself. + +"Well, it is very odd that just when I had decided to go myself you +should want to do what I proposed long ago. If I wait for you to go +tomorrow another day will be lost; and I know I shall be unable to +rest another night without having been. I want to get this settled, +and will. You must visit her afterwards: it will be all the same." + +"I could even go with you now?" + +"You could scarcely walk there and back without a longer rest than I +shall take. No, not tonight, Eustacia." + +"Let it be as you say, then," she replied in the quiet way of one who, +though willing to ward off evil consequences by a mild effort, would +let events fall out as they might sooner than wrestle hard to direct +them. + +Clym then went into the garden; and a thoughtful languor stole over +Eustacia for the remainder of the afternoon, which her husband +attributed to the heat of the weather. + +In the evening he set out on the journey. Although the heat of summer +was yet intense the days had considerably shortened, and before he had +advanced a mile on his way all the heath purples, browns, and greens +had merged in a uniform dress without airiness or graduation, and +broken only by touches of white where the little heaps of clean quartz +sand showed the entrance to a rabbit-burrow, or where the white flints +of a footpath lay like a thread over the slopes. In almost every +one of the isolated and stunted thorns which grew here and there a +night-hawk revealed his presence by whirring like the clack of a mill +as long as he could hold his breath, then stopping, flapping his +wings, wheeling round the bush, alighting, and after a silent interval +of listening beginning to whirr again. At each brushing of Clym's +feet white miller-moths flew into the air just high enough to catch +upon their dusty wings the mellowed light from the west, which now +shone across the depressions and levels of the ground without falling +thereon to light them up. + +Yeobright walked on amid this quiet scene with a hope that all would +soon be well. Three miles on he came to a spot where a soft perfume +was wafted across his path, and he stood still for a moment to +inhale the familiar scent. It was the place at which, four hours +earlier, his mother had sat down exhausted on the knoll covered with +shepherd's-thyme. While he stood a sound between a breathing and a +moan suddenly reached his ears. + +He looked to where the sound came from; but nothing appeared there +save the verge of the hillock stretching against the sky in an +unbroken line. He moved a few steps in that direction, and now he +perceived a recumbent figure almost close at his feet. + +Among the different possibilities as to the person's individuality +there did not for a moment occur to Yeobright that it might be one of +his own family. Sometimes furze-cutters had been known to sleep out of +doors at these times, to save a long journey homeward and back again; +but Clym remembered the moan and looked closer, and saw that the form +was feminine; and a distress came over him like cold air from a cave. +But he was not absolutely certain that the woman was his mother till +he stooped and beheld her face, pallid, and with closed eyes. + +His breath went, as it were, out of his body and the cry of anguish +which would have escaped him died upon his lips. During the momentary +interval that elapsed before he became conscious that something must +be done all sense of time and place left him, and it seemed as if +he and his mother were as when he was a child with her many years +ago on this heath at hours similar to the present. Then he awoke to +activity; and bending yet lower he found that she still breathed, and +that her breath though feeble was regular, except when disturbed by an +occasional gasp. + +"O, what is it! Mother, are you very ill--you are not dying?" he +cried, pressing his lips to her face. "I am your Clym. How did you +come here? What does it all mean?" + +At that moment the chasm in their lives which his love for Eustacia +had caused was not remembered by Yeobright, and to him the present +joined continuously with that friendly past that had been their +experience before the division. + +She moved her lips, appeared to know him, but could not speak; and +then Clym strove to consider how best to move her, as it would be +necessary to get her away from the spot before the dews were intense. +He was able-bodied, and his mother was thin. He clasped his arms +round her, lifted her a little, and said, "Does that hurt you?" + +She shook her head, and he lifted her up; then, at a slow pace, went +onward with his load. The air was now completely cool; but whenever +he passed over a sandy patch of ground uncarpeted with vegetation +there was reflected from its surface into his face the heat which it +had imbibed during the day. At the beginning of his undertaking he +had thought but little of the distance which yet would have to be +traversed before Blooms-End could be reached; but though he had slept +that afternoon he soon began to feel the weight of his burden. Thus +he proceeded, like Aeneas with his father; the bats circling round his +head, nightjars flapping their wings within a yard of his face, and +not a human being within call. + +While he was yet nearly a mile from the house his mother exhibited +signs of restlessness under the constraint of being borne along, as +if his arms were irksome to her. He lowered her upon his knees and +looked around. The point they had now reached, though far from any +road, was not more than a mile from the Blooms-End cottages occupied +by Fairway, Sam, Humphrey, and the Cantles. Moreover, fifty yards off +stood a hut, built of clods and covered with thin turves, but now +entirely disused. The simple outline of the lonely shed was visible, +and thither he determined to direct his steps. As soon as he arrived +he laid her down carefully by the entrance, and then ran and cut with +his pocketknife an armful of the dryest fern. Spreading this within +the shed, which was entirely open on one side, he placed his mother +thereon; then he ran with all his might towards the dwelling of +Fairway. + +Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed, disturbed only by the broken +breathing of the sufferer, when moving figures began to animate the +line between heath and sky. In a few moments Clym arrived with +Fairway, Humphrey, and Susan Nunsuch; Olly Dowden, who had chanced +to be at Fairway's, Christian and Grandfer Cantle following +helter-skelter behind. They had brought a lantern and matches, water, +a pillow, and a few other articles which had occurred to their minds +in the hurry of the moment. Sam had been despatched back again for +brandy, and a boy brought Fairway's pony, upon which he rode off to +the nearest medical man, with directions to call at Wildeve's on his +way, and inform Thomasin that her aunt was unwell. + +Sam and the brandy soon arrived, and it was administered by the light +of the lantern; after which she became sufficiently conscious to +signify by signs that something was wrong with her foot. Olly Dowden +at length understood her meaning, and examined the foot indicated. It +was swollen and red. Even as they watched the red began to assume a +more livid colour, in the midst of which appeared a scarlet speck, +smaller than a pea, and it was found to consist of a drop of blood, +which rose above the smooth flesh of her ankle in a hemisphere. + +"I know what it is," cried Sam. "She has been stung by an adder!" + +"Yes," said Clym instantly. "I remember when I was a child seeing +just such a bite. O, my poor mother!" + +"It was my father who was bit," said Sam. "And there's only one way +to cure it. You must rub the place with the fat of other adders, and +the only way to get that is by frying them. That's what they did for +him." + +"'Tis an old remedy," said Clym distrustfully, "and I have doubts +about it. But we can do nothing else till the doctor comes." + +"'Tis a sure cure," said Olly Dowden, with emphasis. "I've used it +when I used to go out nursing." + +"Then we must pray for daylight, to catch them," said Clym gloomily. + +"I will see what I can do," said Sam. + +He took a green hazel which he had used as a walking-stick, split it +at the end, inserted a small pebble, and with the lantern in his hand +went out into the heath. Clym had by this time lit a small fire, and +despatched Susan Nunsuch for a frying-pan. Before she had returned +Sam came in with three adders, one briskly coiling and uncoiling in +the cleft of the stick, and the other two hanging dead across it. + +"I have only been able to get one alive and fresh as he ought to be," +said Sam. "These limp ones are two I killed today at work; but as +they don't die till the sun goes down they can't be very stale meat." + +The live adder regarded the assembled group with a sinister look in +its small black eye, and the beautiful brown and jet pattern on its +back seemed to intensify with indignation. Mrs. Yeobright saw the +creature, and the creature saw her: she quivered throughout, and +averted her eyes. + +"Look at that," murmured Christian Cantle. "Neighbours, how do we +know but that something of the old serpent in God's garden, that gied +the apple to the young woman with no clothes, lives on in adders and +snakes still? Look at his eye--for all the world like a villainous +sort of black currant. 'Tis to be hoped he can't ill-wish us! There's +folks in heath who've been overlooked already. I will never kill +another adder as long as I live." + +"Well, 'tis right to be afeard of things, if folks can't help it," +said Grandfer Cantle. "'Twould have saved me many a brave danger in +my time." + +"I fancy I heard something outside the shed," said Christian. "I wish +troubles would come in the daytime, for then a man could show his +courage, and hardly beg for mercy of the most broomstick old woman he +should see, if he was a brave man, and able to run out of her sight!" + +"Even such an ignorant fellow as I should know better than do that," +said Sam. + +"Well, there's calamities where we least expect it, whether or no. +Neighbours, if Mrs. Yeobright were to die, d'ye think we should be +took up and tried for the manslaughter of a woman?" + +"No, they couldn't bring it in as that," said Sam, "unless they could +prove we had been poachers at some time of our lives. But she'll +fetch round." + +"Now, if I had been stung by ten adders I should hardly have lost a +day's work for't," said Grandfer Cantle. "Such is my spirit when I +am on my mettle. But perhaps 'tis natural in a man trained for war. +Yes, I've gone through a good deal; but nothing ever came amiss to me +after I joined the Locals in four." He shook his head and smiled at a +mental picture of himself in uniform. "I was always first in the most +galliantest scrapes in my younger days!" + +"I suppose that was because they always used to put the biggest fool +afore," said Fairway from the fire, beside which he knelt, blowing it +with his breath. + +"D'ye think so, Timothy?" said Grandfer Cantle, coming forward to +Fairway's side with sudden depression in his face. "Then a man may +feel for years that he is good solid company, and be wrong about +himself after all?" + +"Never mind that question, Grandfer. Stir your stumps and get some +more sticks. 'Tis very nonsense of an old man to prattle so when life +and death's in mangling." + +"Yes, yes," said Grandfer Cantle, with melancholy conviction. "Well, +this is a bad night altogether for them that have done well in their +time; and if I were ever such a dab at the hautboy or tenor-viol, I +shouldn't have the heart to play tunes upon 'em now." + +Susan now arrived with the frying-pan, when the live adder was killed +and the heads of the three taken off. The remainders, being cut into +lengths and split open, were tossed into the pan, which began hissing +and crackling over the fire. Soon a rill of clear oil trickled from +the carcases, whereupon Clym dipped the corner of his handkerchief +into the liquid and anointed the wound. + + + + +VIII + +Eustacia Hears of Good Fortune, and Beholds Evil + + +In the meantime Eustacia, left alone in her cottage at Alderworth, +had become considerably depressed by the posture of affairs. The +consequences which might result from Clym's discovery that his mother +had been turned from his door that day were likely to be disagreeable, +and this was a quality in events which she hated as much as the +dreadful. + +To be left to pass the evening by herself was irksome to her at any +time, and this evening it was more irksome than usual by reason of the +excitements of the past hours. The two visits had stirred her into +restlessness. She was not wrought to any great pitch of uneasiness +by the probability of appearing in an ill light in the discussion +between Clym and his mother, but she was wrought to vexation; and her +slumbering activities were quickened to the extent of wishing that she +had opened the door. She had certainly believed that Clym was awake, +and the excuse would be an honest one as far as it went; but nothing +could save her from censure in refusing to answer at the first knock. +Yet, instead of blaming herself for the issue she laid the fault upon +the shoulders of some indistinct, colossal Prince of the World, who +had framed her situation and ruled her lot. + +At this time of the year it was pleasanter to walk by night than by +day, and when Clym had been absent about an hour she suddenly resolved +to go out in the direction of Blooms-End, on the chance of meeting +him on his return. When she reached the garden gate she heard wheels +approaching, and looking round beheld her grandfather coming up in his +car. + +"I can't stay a minute, thank ye," he answered to her greeting. "I +am driving to East Egdon; but I came round here just to tell you the +news. Perhaps you have heard--about Mr. Wildeve's fortune?" + +"No," said Eustacia blankly. + +"Well, he has come into a fortune of eleven thousand pounds--uncle +died in Canada, just after hearing that all his family, whom he was +sending home, had gone to the bottom in the _Cassiopeia_; so Wildeve +has come into everything, without in the least expecting it." + +Eustacia stood motionless awhile. "How long has he known of this?" +she asked. + +"Well, it was known to him this morning early, for I knew it at ten +o'clock, when Charley came back. Now, he is what I call a lucky man. +What a fool you were, Eustacia!" + +"In what way?" she said, lifting her eyes in apparent calmness. + +"Why, in not sticking to him when you had him." + +"Had him, indeed!" + +"I did not know there had ever been anything between you till lately; +and, faith, I should have been hot and strong against it if I had +known; but since it seems that there was some sniffing between ye, why +the deuce didn't you stick to him?" + +Eustacia made no reply, but she looked as if she could say as much +upon that subject as he if she chose. + +"And how is your poor purblind husband?" continued the old man. "Not +a bad fellow either, as far as he goes." + +"He is quite well." + +"It is a good thing for his cousin what-d'ye-call-her? By George, you +ought to have been in that galley, my girl! Now I must drive on. Do +you want any assistance? What's mine is yours, you know." + +"Thank you, grandfather, we are not in want at present," she said +coldly. "Clym cuts furze, but he does it mostly as a useful pastime, +because he can do nothing else." + +"He is paid for his pastime, isn't he? Three shillings a hundred, I +heard." + +"Clym has money," she said, colouring, "but he likes to earn a +little." + +"Very well; good night." And the captain drove on. + +When her grandfather was gone Eustacia went on her way mechanically; +but her thoughts were no longer concerning her mother-in-law and Clym. +Wildeve, notwithstanding his complaints against his fate, had been +seized upon by destiny and placed in the sunshine once more. Eleven +thousand pounds! From every Egdon point of view he was a rich man. In +Eustacia's eyes, too, it was an ample sum--one sufficient to supply +those wants of hers which had been stigmatized by Clym in his more +austere moods as vain and luxurious. Though she was no lover of +money she loved what money could bring; and the new accessories she +imagined around him clothed Wildeve with a great deal of interest. She +recollected now how quietly well-dressed he had been that morning: he +had probably put on his newest suit, regardless of damage by briars +and thorns. And then she thought of his manner towards herself. + +"O I see it, I see it," she said. "How much he wishes he had me now, +that he might give me all I desire!" + +In recalling the details of his glances and words--at the time +scarcely regarded--it became plain to her how greatly they had been +dictated by his knowledge of this new event. "Had he been a man to +bear a jilt ill-will he would have told me of his good fortune in +crowing tones; instead of doing that he mentioned not a word, in +deference to my misfortunes, and merely implied that he loved me +still, as one superior to him." + +Wildeve's silence that day on what had happened to him was just the +kind of behaviour calculated to make an impression on such a woman. +Those delicate touches of good taste were, in fact, one of the strong +points in his demeanour towards the other sex. The peculiarity of +Wildeve was that, while at one time passionate, upbraiding, and +resentful towards a woman, at another he would treat her with +such unparalleled grace as to make previous neglect appear as +no discourtesy, injury as no insult, interference as a delicate +attention, and the ruin of her honour as excess of chivalry. This +man, whose admiration today Eustacia had disregarded, whose good +wishes she had scarcely taken the trouble to accept, whom she had +shown out of the house by the back door, was the possessor of eleven +thousand pounds--a man of fair professional education, and one who +had served his articles with a civil engineer. + +So intent was Eustacia upon Wildeve's fortunes that she forgot how +much closer to her own course were those of Clym; and instead of +walking on to meet him at once she sat down upon a stone. She was +disturbed in her reverie by a voice behind, and turning her head +beheld the old lover and fortunate inheritor of wealth immediately +beside her. + +She remained sitting, though the fluctuation in her look might have +told any man who knew her so well as Wildeve that she was thinking of +him. + +"How did you come here?" she said in her clear low tone. "I thought +you were at home." + +"I went on to the village after leaving your garden; and now I have +come back again: that's all. Which way are you walking, may I ask?" + +She waved her hand in the direction of Blooms-End. "I am going to meet +my husband. I think I may possibly have got into trouble whilst you +were with me today." + +"How could that be?" + +"By not letting in Mrs. Yeobright." + +"I hope that visit of mine did you no harm." + +"None. It was not your fault," she said quietly. + +By this time she had risen; and they involuntarily sauntered on +together, without speaking, for two or three minutes; when Eustacia +broke silence by saying, "I assume I must congratulate you." + +"On what? O yes; on my eleven thousand pounds, you mean. Well, since +I didn't get something else, I must be content with getting that." + +"You seem very indifferent about it. Why didn't you tell me today +when you came?" she said in the tone of a neglected person. "I heard +of it quite by accident." + +"I did mean to tell you," said Wildeve. "But I--well, I will speak +frankly--I did not like to mention it when I saw, Eustacia, that your +star was not high. The sight of a man lying wearied out with hard +work, as your husband lay, made me feel that to brag of my own fortune +to you would be greatly out of place. Yet, as you stood there beside +him, I could not help feeling too that in many respects he was a +richer man than I." + +At this Eustacia said, with slumbering mischievousness, "What, would +you exchange with him--your fortune for me?" + +"I certainly would," said Wildeve. + +"As we are imagining what is impossible and absurd, suppose we change +the subject?" + +"Very well; and I will tell you of my plans for the future, if you +care to hear them. I shall permanently invest nine thousand pounds, +keep one thousand as ready money, and with the remaining thousand +travel for a year or so." + +"Travel? What a bright idea! Where will you go to?" + +"From here to Paris, where I shall pass the winter and spring. Then +I shall go to Italy, Greece, Egypt, and Palestine, before the hot +weather comes on. In the summer I shall go to America; and then, by a +plan not yet settled, I shall go to Australia and round to India. By +that time I shall have begun to have had enough of it. Then I shall +probably come back to Paris again, and there I shall stay as long as +I can afford to." + +"Back to Paris again," she murmured in a voice that was nearly a sigh. +She had never once told Wildeve of the Parisian desires which Clym's +description had sown in her; yet here was he involuntarily in a +position to gratify them. "You think a good deal of Paris?" she +added. + +"Yes. In my opinion it is the central beauty-spot of the world." + +"And in mine! And Thomasin will go with you?" + +"Yes, if she cares to. She may prefer to stay at home." + +"So you will be going about, and I shall be staying here!" + +"I suppose you will. But we know whose fault that is." + +"I am not blaming you," she said quickly. + +"Oh, I thought you were. If ever you SHOULD be inclined to blame me, +think of a certain evening by Rainbarrow, when you promised to meet +me and did not. You sent me a letter; and my heart ached to read that +as I hope yours never will. That was one point of divergence. I then +did something in haste... But she is a good woman, and I will say no +more." + +"I know that the blame was on my side that time," said Eustacia. "But +it had not always been so. However, it is my misfortune to be too +sudden in feeling. O, Damon, don't reproach me any more--I can't bear +that." + +They went on silently for a distance of two or three miles, when +Eustacia said suddenly, "Haven't you come out of your way, Mr. +Wildeve?" + +"My way is anywhere tonight. I will go with you as far as the hill +on which we can see Blooms-End, as it is getting late for you to be +alone." + +"Don't trouble. I am not obliged to be out at all. I think I would +rather you did not accompany me further. This sort of thing would +have an odd look if known." + +"Very well, I will leave you." He took her hand unexpectedly, and +kissed it--for the first time since her marriage. "What light is that +on the hill?" he added, as it were to hide the caress. + +She looked, and saw a flickering firelight proceeding from the open +side of a hovel a little way before them. The hovel, which she had +hitherto always found empty, seemed to be inhabited now. + +"Since you have come so far," said Eustacia, "will you see me safely +past that hut? I thought I should have met Clym somewhere about here, +but as he doesn't appear I will hasten on and get to Blooms-End before +he leaves." + +They advanced to the turf-shed, and when they got near it the +firelight and the lantern inside showed distinctly enough the form of +a woman reclining on a bed of fern, a group of heath men and women +standing around her. Eustacia did not recognize Mrs. Yeobright in the +reclining figure, nor Clym as one of the standers-by till she came +close. Then she quickly pressed her hand upon Wildeve's arm and +signified to him to come back from the open side of the shed into the +shadow. + +"It is my husband and his mother," she whispered in an agitated voice. +"What can it mean? Will you step forward and tell me?" + +Wildeve left her side and went to the back wall of the hut. Presently +Eustacia perceived that he was beckoning to her, and she advanced and +joined him. + +"It is a serious case," said Wildeve. + +From their position they could hear what was proceeding inside. + +"I cannot think where she could have been going," said Clym to +some one. "She had evidently walked a long way, but even when she +was able to speak just now she would not tell me where. What do you +really think of her?" + +"There is a great deal to fear," was gravely answered, in a voice +which Eustacia recognized as that of the only surgeon in the district. +"She has suffered somewhat from the bite of the adder; but it is +exhaustion which has overpowered her. My impression is that her walk +must have been exceptionally long." + +"I used to tell her not to overwalk herself this weather," said Clym, +with distress. "Do you think we did well in using the adder's fat?" + +"Well, it is a very ancient remedy--the old remedy of the +viper-catchers, I believe," replied the doctor. "It is mentioned as an +infallible ointment by Hoffman, Mead, and I think the Abbé Fontana. +Undoubtedly it was as good a thing as you could do; though I question +if some other oils would not have been equally efficacious." + +"Come here, come here!" was then rapidly said in anxious female tones; +and Clym and the doctor could be heard rushing forward from the back +part of the shed to where Mrs. Yeobright lay. + +"Oh, what is it?" whispered Eustacia. + +"'Twas Thomasin who spoke," said Wildeve. "Then they have fetched +her. I wonder if I had better go in--yet it might do harm." + +For a long time there was utter silence among the group within; and it +was broken at last by Clym saying, in an agonized voice, "O Doctor, +what does it mean?" + +The doctor did not reply at once; ultimately he said, "She is sinking +fast. Her heart was previously affected, and physical exhaustion has +dealt the finishing blow." + +Then there was a weeping of women, then waiting, then hushed +exclamations, then a strange gasping sound, then a painful stillness. + +"It is all over," said the doctor. + +Further back in the hut the cotters whispered, "Mrs. Yeobright is +dead." + +Almost at the same moment the two watchers observed the form of a +small old-fashioned child entering at the open side of the shed. +Susan Nunsuch, whose boy it was, went forward to the opening and +silently beckoned to him to go back. + +"I've got something to tell 'ee, mother," he cried in a shrill tone. +"That woman asleep there walked along with me today; and she said I +was to say that I had seed her, and she was a broken-hearted woman and +cast off by her son, and then I came on home." + +A confused sob as from a man was heard within, upon which Eustacia +gasped faintly, "That's Clym--I must go to him--yet dare I do it? +No: come away!" + +When they had withdrawn from the neighbourhood of the shed she said +huskily, "I am to blame for this. There is evil in store for me." + +"Was she not admitted to your house after all?" Wildeve inquired. + +"No; and that's where it all lies! Oh, what shall I do! I shall not +intrude upon them: I shall go straight home. Damon, good-bye! I +cannot speak to you any more now." + +They parted company; and when Eustacia had reached the next hill she +looked back. A melancholy procession was wending its way by the light +of the lantern from the hut towards Blooms-End. Wildeve was nowhere to +be seen. + + + + +BOOK FIFTH +THE DISCOVERY + + +I + +"Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery" + + +One evening, about three weeks after the funeral of Mrs. Yeobright, +when the silver face of the moon sent a bundle of beams directly upon +the floor of Clym's house at Alderworth, a woman came forth from +within. She reclined over the garden gate as if to refresh herself +awhile. The pale lunar touches which make beauties of hags lent +divinity to this face, already beautiful. + +She had not long been there when a man came up the road and with some +hesitation said to her, "How is he tonight, ma'am, if you please?" + +"He is better, though still very unwell, Humphrey," replied Eustacia. + +"Is he light-headed, ma'am?" + +"No. He is quite sensible now." + +"Do he rave about his mother just the same, poor fellow?" continued +Humphrey. + +"Just as much, though not quite so wildly," she said in a low voice. + +"It was very unfortunate, ma'am, that the boy Johnny should ever ha' +told him his mother's dying words, about her being broken-hearted and +cast off by her son. 'Twas enough to upset any man alive." + +Eustacia made no reply beyond that of a slight catch in her breath, as +of one who fain would speak but could not; and Humphrey, declining her +invitation to come in, went away. + +Eustacia turned, entered the house, and ascended to the front bedroom, +where a shaded light was burning. In the bed lay Clym, pale, haggard, +wide awake, tossing to one side and to the other, his eyes lit by +a hot light, as if the fire in their pupils were burning up their +substance. + +"Is it you, Eustacia?" he said as she sat down. + +"Yes, Clym. I have been down to the gate. The moon is shining +beautifully, and there is not a leaf stirring." + +"Shining, is it? What's the moon to a man like me? Let it shine--let +anything be, so that I never see another day!... Eustacia, I don't +know where to look: my thoughts go through me like swords. O, if +any man wants to make himself immortal by painting a picture of +wretchedness, let him come here!" + +"Why do you say so?" + +"I cannot help feeling that I did my best to kill her." + +"No, Clym." + +"Yes, it was so; it is useless to excuse me! My conduct to her was +too hideous--I made no advances; and she could not bring herself to +forgive me. Now she is dead! If I had only shown myself willing to +make it up with her sooner, and we had been friends, and then she +had died, it wouldn't be so hard to bear. But I never went near her +house, so she never came near mine, and didn't know how welcome she +would have been--that's what troubles me. She did not know I was +going to her house that very night, for she was too insensible to +understand me. If she had only come to see me! I longed that she +would. But it was not to be." + +There escaped from Eustacia one of those shivering sighs which used +to shake her like a pestilent blast. She had not yet told. + +But Yeobright was too deeply absorbed in the ramblings incidental to +his remorseful state to notice her. During his illness he had been +continually talking thus. Despair had been added to his original +grief by the unfortunate disclosure of the boy who had received the +last words of Mrs. Yeobright--words too bitterly uttered in an hour of +misapprehension. Then his distress had overwhelmed him, and he longed +for death as a field labourer longs for the shade. It was the pitiful +sight of a man standing in the very focus of sorrow. He continually +bewailed his tardy journey to his mother's house, because it was an +error which could never be rectified, and insisted that he must have +been horribly perverted by some fiend not to have thought before that +it was his duty to go to her, since she did not come to him. He would +ask Eustacia to agree with him in his self-condemnation; and when she, +seared inwardly by a secret she dared not tell, declared that she +could not give an opinion, he would say, "That's because you didn't +know my mother's nature. She was always ready to forgive if asked to +do so; but I seemed to her to be as an obstinate child, and that made +her unyielding. Yet not unyielding: she was proud and reserved, no +more... Yes, I can understand why she held out against me so long. +She was waiting for me. I dare say she said a hundred times in her +sorrow, 'What a return he makes for all the sacrifices I have made +for him!' I never went to her! When I set out to visit her it was too +late. To think of that is nearly intolerable!" + +Sometimes his condition had been one of utter remorse, unsoftened by +a single tear of pure sorrow: and then he writhed as he lay, fevered +far more by thought than by physical ills. "If I could only get one +assurance that she did not die in a belief that I was resentful," he +said one day when in this mood, "it would be better to think of than +a hope of heaven. But that I cannot do." + +"You give yourself up too much to this wearying despair," said +Eustacia. "Other men's mothers have died." + +"That doesn't make the loss of mine less. Yet it is less the loss +than the circumstances of the loss. I sinned against her, and on that +account there is no light for me." + +"She sinned against you, I think." + +"No, she did not. I committed the guilt; and may the whole burden be +upon my head!" + +"I think you might consider twice before you say that," Eustacia +replied. "Single men have, no doubt, a right to curse themselves as +much as they please; but men with wives involve two in the doom they +pray down." + +"I am in too sorry a state to understand what you are refining on," +said the wretched man. "Day and night shout at me, 'You have helped +to kill her.' But in loathing myself I may, I own, be unjust to you, +my poor wife. Forgive me for it, Eustacia, for I scarcely know what +I do." + +Eustacia was always anxious to avoid the sight of her husband in such +a state as this, which had become as dreadful to her as the trial +scene was to Judas Iscariot. It brought before her eyes the spectre +of a worn-out woman knocking at a door which she would not open; and +she shrank from contemplating it. Yet it was better for Yeobright +himself when he spoke openly of his sharp regret, for in silence he +endured infinitely more, and would sometimes remain so long in a +tense, brooding mood, consuming himself by the gnawing of his thought, +that it was imperatively necessary to make him talk aloud, that his +grief might in some degree expend itself in the effort. + +Eustacia had not been long indoors after her look at the moonlight +when a soft footstep came up to the house, and Thomasin was announced +by the woman downstairs. + +"Ah, Thomasin! Thank you for coming tonight," said Clym when she +entered the room. "Here am I, you see. Such a wretched spectacle am +I, that I shrink from being seen by a single friend, and almost from +you." + +"You must not shrink from me, dear Clym," said Thomasin earnestly, in +that sweet voice of hers which came to a sufferer like fresh air into +a Black Hole. "Nothing in you can ever shock me or drive me away. I +have been here before, but you don't remember it." + +"Yes, I do; I am not delirious, Thomasin, nor have I been so at all. +Don't you believe that if they say so. I am only in great misery at +what I have done: and that, with the weakness, makes me seem mad. But +it has not upset my reason. Do you think I should remember all about +my mother's death if I were out of my mind? No such good luck. Two +months and a half, Thomasin, the last of her life, did my poor mother +live alone, distracted and mourning because of me; yet she was +unvisited by me, though I was living only six miles off. Two months +and a half--seventy-five days did the sun rise and set upon her in +that deserted state which a dog didn't deserve! Poor people who had +nothing in common with her would have cared for her, and visited her +had they known her sickness and loneliness; but I, who should have +been all to her, stayed away like a cur. If there is any justice in +God let Him kill me now. He has nearly blinded me, but that is not +enough. If He would only strike me with more pain I would believe in +Him for ever!" + +"Hush, hush! O, pray, Clym, don't, don't say it!" implored Thomasin, +affrighted into sobs and tears; while Eustacia, at the other side of +the room, though her pale face remained calm, writhed in her chair. +Clym went on without heeding his cousin. + +"But I am not worth receiving further proof even of Heaven's +reprobation. Do you think, Thomasin, that she knew me--that she did +not die in that horrid mistaken notion about my not forgiving her, +which I can't tell you how she acquired? If you could only assure me +of that! Do you think so, Eustacia? Do speak to me." + +"I think I can assure you that she knew better at last," said +Thomasin. The pallid Eustacia said nothing. + +"Why didn't she come to my house? I would have taken her in and +showed her how I loved her in spite of all. But she never came; and I +didn't go to her, and she died on the heath like an animal kicked out, +nobody to help her till it was too late. If you could have seen her, +Thomasin, as I saw her--a poor dying woman, lying in the dark upon the +bare ground, moaning, nobody near, believing she was utterly deserted +by all the world, it would have moved you to anguish, it would have +moved a brute. And this poor woman my mother! No wonder she said to +the child, 'You have seen a broken-hearted woman.' What a state she +must have been brought to, to say that! and who can have done it but +I? It is too dreadful to think of, and I wish I could be punished +more heavily than I am. How long was I what they called out of my +senses?" + +"A week, I think." + +"And then I became calm." + +"Yes, for four days." + +"And now I have left off being calm." + +"But try to be quiet: please do, and you will soon be strong. If you +could remove that impression from your mind--" + +"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "But I don't want to get strong. +What's the use of my getting well? It would be better for me if I +die, and it would certainly be better for Eustacia. Is Eustacia +there?" + +"Yes." + +"It would be better for you, Eustacia, if I were to die?" + +"Don't press such a question, dear Clym." + +"Well, it really is but a shadowy supposition; for unfortunately I am +going to live. I feel myself getting better. Thomasin, how long are +you going to stay at the inn, now that all this money has come to your +husband?" + +"Another month or two, probably; until my illness is over. We cannot +get off till then. I think it will be a month or more." + +"Yes, yes. Of course. Ah, Cousin Tamsie, you will get over your +trouble--one little month will take you through it, and bring +something to console you; but I shall never get over mine, and no +consolation will come!" + +"Clym, you are unjust to yourself. Depend upon it, aunt thought +kindly of you. I know that, if she had lived, you would have been +reconciled with her." + +"But she didn't come to see me, though I asked her, before I married, +if she would come. Had she come, or had I gone there, she would never +have died saying, 'I am a broken-hearted woman, cast off by my son.' +My door has always been open to her--a welcome here has always awaited +her. But that she never came to see." + +"You had better not talk any more now, Clym," said Eustacia faintly +from the other part of the room, for the scene was growing intolerable +to her. + +"Let me talk to you instead for the little time I shall be here," +Thomasin said soothingly. "Consider what a one-sided way you have of +looking at the matter, Clym. When she said that to the little boy you +had not found her and taken her into your arms; and it might have been +uttered in a moment of bitterness. It was rather like aunt to say +things in haste. She sometimes used to speak so to me. Though she did +not come I am convinced that she thought of coming to see you. Do +you suppose a man's mother could live two or three months without +one forgiving thought? She forgave me; and why should she not have +forgiven you?" + +"You laboured to win her round; I did nothing. I, who was going to +teach people the higher secrets of happiness, did not know how to keep +out of that gross misery which the most untaught are wise enough to +avoid." + +"How did you get here tonight, Thomasin?" said Eustacia. + +"Damon set me down at the end of the lane. He has driven into East +Egdon on business, and he will come and pick me up by-and-by." + +Accordingly they soon after heard the noise of wheels. Wildeve had +come, and was waiting outside with his horse and gig. + +"Send out and tell him I will be down in two minutes," said Thomasin. + +"I will run down myself," said Eustacia. + +She went down. Wildeve had alighted, and was standing before the +horse's head when Eustacia opened the door. He did not turn for a +moment, thinking the comer Thomasin. Then he looked, started ever +so little, and said one word: "Well?" + +"I have not yet told him," she replied in a whisper. + +"Then don't do so till he is well--it will be fatal. You are ill +yourself." + +"I am wretched... O Damon," she said, bursting into tears, "I--I can't +tell you how unhappy I am! I can hardly bear this. I can tell nobody +of my trouble--nobody knows of it but you." + +"Poor girl!" said Wildeve, visibly affected at her distress, and at +last led on so far as to take her hand. "It is hard, when you have +done nothing to deserve it, that you should have got involved in such +a web as this. You were not made for these sad scenes. I am to blame +most. If I could only have saved you from it all!" + +"But, Damon, please pray tell me what I must do? To sit by him hour +after hour, and hear him reproach himself as being the cause of her +death, and to know that I am the sinner, if any human being is at all, +drives me into cold despair. I don't know what to do. Should I tell +him or should I not tell him? I always am asking myself that. O, I +want to tell him; and yet I am afraid. If he find it out he must +surely kill me, for nothing else will be in proportion to his feelings +now. 'Beware the fury of a patient man' sounds day by day in my ears +as I watch him." + +"Well, wait till he is better, and trust to chance. And when you +tell, you must only tell part--for his own sake." + +"Which part should I keep back?" + +Wildeve paused. "That I was in the house at the time," he said in a +low tone. + +"Yes; it must be concealed, seeing what has been whispered. How much +easier are hasty actions than speeches that will excuse them!" + +"If he were only to die--" Wildeve murmured. + +"Do not think of it! I would not buy hope of immunity by so cowardly a +desire even if I hated him. Now I am going up to him again. Thomasin +bade me tell you she would be down in a few minutes. Good-bye." + +She returned, and Thomasin soon appeared. When she was seated in the +gig with her husband, and the horse was turning to go off, Wildeve +lifted his eyes to the bedroom windows. Looking from one of them he +could discern a pale, tragic face watching him drive away. It was +Eustacia's. + + + + +II + +A Lurid Light Breaks In upon a Darkened Understanding + + +Clym's grief became mitigated by wearing itself out. His strength +returned, and a month after the visit of Thomasin he might have been +seen walking about the garden. Endurance and despair, equanimity and +gloom, the tints of health and the pallor of death, mingled weirdly +in his face. He was now unnaturally silent upon all of the past that +related to his mother; and though Eustacia knew that he was thinking +of it none the less, she was only too glad to escape the topic ever to +bring it up anew. When his mind had been weaker his heart had led him +to speak out; but reason having now somewhat recovered itself he sank +into taciturnity. + +One evening when he was thus standing in the garden, abstractedly +spudding up a weed with his stick, a bony figure turned the corner of +the house and came up to him. + +"Christian, isn't it?" said Clym. "I am glad you have found me out. +I shall soon want you to go to Blooms-End and assist me in putting +the house in order. I suppose it is all locked up as I left it?" + +"Yes, Mister Clym." + +"Have you dug up the potatoes and other roots?" + +"Yes, without a drop o' rain, thank God. But I was coming to tell 'ee +of something else which is quite different from what we have lately +had in the family. I am sent by the rich gentleman at the Woman, that +we used to call the landlord, to tell 'ee that Mrs. Wildeve is doing +well of a girl, which was born punctually at one o'clock at noon, +or a few minutes more or less; and 'tis said that expecting of this +increase is what have kept 'em there since they came into their +money." + +"And she is getting on well, you say?" + +"Yes, sir. Only Mr. Wildeve is twanky because 'tisn't a boy--that's +what they say in the kitchen, but I was not supposed to notice that." + +"Christian, now listen to me." + +"Yes, sure, Mr. Yeobright." + +"Did you see my mother the day before she died?" + +"No, I did not." + +Yeobright's face expressed disappointment. + +"But I zeed her the morning of the same day she died." + +Clym's look lighted up. "That's nearer still to my meaning," he said. + +"Yes, I know 'twas the same day; for she said, 'I be going to see him, +Christian; so I shall not want any vegetables brought in for dinner.'" + +"See whom?" + +"See you. She was going to your house, you understand." + +Yeobright regarded Christian with intense surprise. "Why did you +never mention this?" he said. "Are you sure it was my house she was +coming to?" + +"O yes. I didn't mention it because I've never zeed you lately. And +as she didn't get there it was all nought, and nothing to tell." + +"And I have been wondering why she should have walked in the heath +on that hot day! Well, did she say what she was coming for? It is a +thing, Christian, I am very anxious to know." + +"Yes, Mister Clym. She didn't say it to me, though I think she did to +one here and there." + +"Do you know one person to whom she spoke of it?" + +"There is one man, please, sir, but I hope you won't mention my name +to him, as I have seen him in strange places, particular in dreams. +One night last summer he glared at me like Famine and Sword, and it +made me feel so low that I didn't comb out my few hairs for two days. +He was standing, as it might be, Mister Yeobright, in the middle of +the path to Mistover, and your mother came up, looking as pale--" + +"Yes, when was that?" + +"Last summer, in my dream." + +"Pooh! Who's the man?" + +"Diggory, the reddleman. He called upon her and sat with her the +evening before she set out to see you. I hadn't gone home from work +when he came up to the gate." + +"I must see Venn--I wish I had known it before," said Clym anxiously. +"I wonder why he has not come to tell me?" + +"He went out of Egdon Heath the next day, so would not be likely to +know you wanted him." + +"Christian," said Clym, "you must go and find Venn. I am otherwise +engaged, or I would go myself. Find him at once, and tell him I want +to speak to him." + +"I am a good hand at hunting up folk by day," said Christian, looking +dubiously round at the declining light; "but as to nighttime, never +is such a bad hand as I, Mister Yeobright." + +"Search the heath when you will, so that you bring him soon. Bring +him tomorrow, if you can." + +Christian then departed. The morrow came, but no Venn. In the +evening Christian arrived, looking very weary. He had been searching +all day, and had heard nothing of the reddleman. + +"Inquire as much as you can tomorrow without neglecting your work," +said Yeobright. "Don't come again till you have found him." + +The next day Yeobright set out for the old house at Blooms-End, which, +with the garden, was now his own. His severe illness had hindered all +preparations for his removal thither; but it had become necessary +that he should go and overlook its contents, as administrator to his +mother's little property; for which purpose he decided to pass the +next night on the premises. + +He journeyed onward, not quickly or decisively, but in the slow walk +of one who has been awakened from a stupefying sleep. It was early +afternoon when he reached the valley. The expression of the place, +the tone of the hour, were precisely those of many such occasions in +days gone by; and these antecedent similarities fostered the illusion +that she, who was there no longer, would come out to welcome him. +The garden gate was locked and the shutters were closed, just as he +himself had left them on the evening after the funeral. He unlocked +the gate, and found that a spider had already constructed a large web, +tying the door to the lintel, on the supposition that it was never +to be opened again. When he had entered the house and flung back +the shutters he set about his task of overhauling the cupboards and +closets, burning papers, and considering how best to arrange the place +for Eustacia's reception, until such time as he might be in a position +to carry out his long-delayed scheme, should that time ever arrive. + +As he surveyed the rooms he felt strongly disinclined for the +alterations which would have to be made in the time-honoured +furnishing of his parents and grandparents, to suit Eustacia's modern +ideas. The gaunt oak-cased clock, with the picture of the Ascension +on the door-panel and the Miraculous Draught of Fishes on the base; +his grandmother's corner cupboard with the glass door, through which +the spotted china was visible; the dumb-waiter; the wooden tea-trays; +the hanging fountain with the brass tap--whither would these venerable +articles have to be banished? + +He noticed that the flowers in the window had died for want of water, +and he placed them out upon the ledge, that they might be taken away. +While thus engaged he heard footsteps on the gravel without, and +somebody knocked at the door. + +Yeobright opened it, and Venn was standing before him. + +"Good morning," said the reddleman. "Is Mrs. Yeobright at home?" + +Yeobright looked upon the ground. "Then you have not seen Christian +or any of the Egdon folks?" he said. + +"No. I have only just returned after a long stay away. I called here +the day before I left." + +"And you have heard nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"My mother is--dead." + +"Dead!" said Venn mechanically. + +"Her home now is where I shouldn't mind having mine." + +Venn regarded him, and then said, "If I didn't see your face I could +never believe your words. Have you been ill?" + +"I had an illness." + +"Well, the change! When I parted from her a month ago everything +seemed to say that she was going to begin a new life." + +"And what seemed came true." + +"You say right, no doubt. Trouble has taught you a deeper vein of +talk than mine. All I meant was regarding her life here. She has +died too soon." + +"Perhaps through my living too long. I have had a bitter experience +on that score this last month, Diggory. But come in; I have been +wanting to see you." + +He conducted the reddleman into the large room where the dancing had +taken place the previous Christmas; and they sat down in the settle +together. "There's the cold fireplace, you see," said Clym. "When +that half-burnt log and those cinders were alight she was alive! +Little has been changed here yet. I can do nothing. My life creeps +like a snail." + +"How came she to die?" said Venn. + +Yeobright gave him some particulars of her illness and death, and +continued: "After this no kind of pain will ever seem more than +an indisposition to me.--I began saying that I wanted to ask you +something, but I stray from subjects like a drunken man. I am anxious +to know what my mother said to you when she last saw you. You talked +with her a long time, I think?" + +"I talked with her more than half an hour." + +"About me?" + +"Yes. And it must have been on account of what we said that she was +on the heath. Without question she was coming to see you." + +"But why should she come to see me if she felt so bitterly against +me? There's the mystery." + +"Yet I know she quite forgave 'ee." + +"But, Diggory--would a woman, who had quite forgiven her son, say, +when she felt herself ill on the way to his house, that she was +broken-hearted because of his ill-usage? Never!" + +"What I know is that she didn't blame you at all. She blamed herself +for what had happened, only herself. I had it from her own lips." + +"You had it from her lips that I had NOT ill-treated her; and at the +same time another had it from her lips that I HAD ill-treated her? +My mother was no impulsive woman who changed her opinion every hour +without reason. How can it be, Venn, that she should have told such +different stories in close succession?" + +"I cannot say. It is certainly odd, when she had forgiven you, and +had forgiven your wife, and was going to see ye on purpose to make +friends." + +"If there was one thing wanting to bewilder me it was this +incomprehensible thing!... Diggory, if we, who remain alive, were only +allowed to hold conversation with the dead--just once, a bare minute, +even through a screen of iron bars, as with persons in prison--what we +might learn! How many who now ride smiling would hide their heads! And +this mystery--I should then be at the bottom of it at once. But the +grave has for ever shut her in; and how shall it be found out now?" + +No reply was returned by his companion, since none could be given; and +when Venn left, a few minutes later, Clym had passed from the dullness +of sorrow to the fluctuation of carking incertitude. + +He continued in the same state all the afternoon. A bed was made up +for him in the same house by a neighbour, that he might not have to +return again the next day; and when he retired to rest in the deserted +place it was only to remain awake hour after hour thinking the same +thoughts. How to discover a solution to this riddle of death seemed a +query of more importance than highest problems of the living. There +was housed in his memory a vivid picture of the face of a little boy +as he entered the hovel where Clym's mother lay. The round eyes, +eager gaze, the piping voice which enunciated the words, had operated +like stilettos on his brain. + +A visit to the boy suggested itself as a means of gleaning new +particulars; though it might be quite unproductive. To probe a +child's mind after the lapse of six weeks, not for facts which the +child had seen and understood, but to get at those which were in +their nature beyond him, did not promise much; yet when every obvious +channel is blocked we grope towards the small and obscure. There was +nothing else left to do; after that he would allow the enigma to drop +into the abyss of undiscoverable things. + +It was about daybreak when he had reached this decision, and he +at once arose. He locked up the house and went out into the green +patch which merged in heather further on. In front of the white +garden-palings the path branched into three like a broad-arrow. The +road to the right led to the Quiet Woman and its neighbourhood; the +middle track led to Mistover Knap; the left-hand track led over +the hill to another part of Mistover, where the child lived. On +inclining into the latter path Yeobright felt a creeping chilliness, +familiar enough to most people, and probably caused by the unsunned +morning air. In after days he thought of it as a thing of singular +significance. + +When Yeobright reached the cottage of Susan Nunsuch, the mother of the +boy he sought, he found that the inmates were not yet astir. But in +upland hamlets the transition from a-bed to abroad is surprisingly +swift and easy. There no dense partition of yawns and toilets divides +humanity by night from humanity by day. Yeobright tapped at the upper +window-sill, which he could reach with his walking-stick; and in three +or four minutes the woman came down. + +It was not till this moment that Clym recollected her to be the person +who had behaved so barbarously to Eustacia. It partly explained the +insuavity with which the woman greeted him. Moreover, the boy had +been ailing again; and Susan now, as ever since the night when he had +been pressed into Eustacia's service at the bonfire, attributed his +indispositions to Eustacia's influence as a witch. It was one of +those sentiments which lurk like moles underneath the visible surface +of manners, and may have been kept alive by Eustacia's entreaty to the +captain, at the time that he had intended to prosecute Susan for the +pricking in church, to let the matter drop; which he accordingly had +done. + +Yeobright overcame his repugnance, for Susan had at least borne his +mother no ill-will. He asked kindly for the boy; but her manner did +not improve. + +"I wish to see him," continued Yeobright, with some hesitation; "to +ask him if he remembers anything more of his walk with my mother than +what he has previously told." + +She regarded him in a peculiar and criticizing manner. To anybody but +a half-blind man it would have said, "You want another of the knocks +which have already laid you so low." + +She called the boy downstairs, asked Clym to sit down on a stool, and +continued, "Now, Johnny, tell Mr. Yeobright anything you can call to +mind." + +"You have not forgotten how you walked with the poor lady on that hot +day?" said Clym. + +"No," said the boy. + +"And what she said to you?" + +The boy repeated the exact words he had used on entering the hut. +Yeobright rested his elbow on the table and shaded his face with his +hand; and the mother looked as if she wondered how a man could want +more of what had stung him so deeply. + +"She was going to Alderworth when you first met her?" + +"No; she was coming away." + +"That can't be." + +"Yes; she walked along with me. I was coming away too." + +"Then where did you first see her?" + +"At your house." + +"Attend, and speak the truth!" said Clym sternly. + +"Yes, sir; at your house was where I seed her first." + +Clym started up, and Susan smiled in an expectant way which did not +embellish her face; it seemed to mean, "Something sinister is coming!" + +"What did she do at my house?" + +"She went and sat under the trees at the Devil's Bellows." + +"Good God! this is all news to me!" + +"You never told me this before?" said Susan. + +"No, mother; because I didn't like to tell 'ee I had been so far. I +was picking black-hearts, and went further than I meant." + +"What did she do then?" said Yeobright. + +"Looked at a man who came up and went into your house." + +"That was myself--a furze-cutter, with brambles in his hand." + +"No; 'twas not you. 'Twas a gentleman. You had gone in afore." + +"Who was he?" + +"I don't know." + +"Now tell me what happened next." + +"The poor lady went and knocked at your door, and the lady with black +hair looked out of the side window at her." + +The boy's mother turned to Clym and said, "This is something you +didn't expect?" + +Yeobright took no more notice of her than if he had been of stone. +"Go on, go on," he said hoarsely to the boy. + +"And when she saw the young lady look out of the window the old lady +knocked again; and when nobody came she took up the furze-hook and +looked at it, and put it down again, and then she looked at the +faggot-bonds; and then she went away, and walked across to me, and +blowed her breath very hard, like this. We walked on together, she +and I, and I talked to her and she talked to me a bit, but not much, +because she couldn't blow her breath." + +"O!" murmured Clym, in a low tone, and bowed his head. "Let's have +more," he said. + +"She couldn't talk much, and she couldn't walk; and her face was, O +so queer!" + +"How was her face?" + +"Like yours is now." + +The woman looked at Yeobright, and beheld him colourless, in a cold +sweat. "Isn't there meaning in it?" she said stealthily. "What do +you think of her now?" + +"Silence!" said Clym fiercely. And, turning to the boy, "And then you +left her to die?" + +"No," said the woman, quickly and angrily. "He did not leave her to +die! She sent him away. Whoever says he forsook her says what's not +true." + +"Trouble no more about that," answered Clym, with a quivering mouth. +"What he did is a trifle in comparison with what he saw. Door kept +shut, did you say? Kept shut, she looking out of window? Good heart +of God!--what does it mean?" + +The child shrank away from the gaze of his questioner. + +"He said so," answered the mother, "and Johnny's a God-fearing boy +and tells no lies." + +"'Cast off by my son!' No, by my best life, dear mother, it is not so! +But by your son's, your son's--May all murderesses get the torment +they deserve!" + +With these words Yeobright went forth from the little dwelling. The +pupils of his eyes, fixed steadfastly on blankness, were vaguely +lit with an icy shine; his mouth had passed into the phase more or +less imaginatively rendered in studies of Oedipus. The strangest +deeds were possible to his mood. But they were not possible to +his situation. Instead of there being before him the pale face +of Eustacia, and a masculine shape unknown, there was only the +imperturbable countenance of the heath, which, having defied the +cataclysmal onsets of centuries, reduced to insignificance by its +seamed and antique features the wildest turmoil of a single man. + + + + +III + +Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning + + +A consciousness of a vast impassivity in all which lay around him took +possession even of Yeobright in his wild walk towards Alderworth. He +had once before felt in his own person this overpowering of the fervid +by the inanimate; but then it had tended to enervate a passion far +sweeter than that which at present pervaded him. It was once when he +stood parting from Eustacia in the moist still levels beyond the +hills. + +But dismissing all this he went onward home, and came to the front of +his house. The blinds of Eustacia's bedroom were still closely drawn, +for she was no early riser. All the life visible was in the shape of +a solitary thrush cracking a small snail upon the door-stone for his +breakfast, and his tapping seemed a loud noise in the general silence +which prevailed; but on going to the door Clym found it unfastened, +the young girl who attended upon Eustacia being astir in the back part +of the premises. Yeobright entered and went straight to his wife's +room. + +The noise of his arrival must have aroused her, for when he opened the +door she was standing before the looking-glass in her night-dress, the +ends of her hair gathered into one hand, with which she was coiling +the whole mass round her head, previous to beginning toilette +operations. She was not a woman given to speaking first at a meeting, +and she allowed Clym to walk across in silence, without turning her +head. He came behind her, and she saw his face in the glass. It was +ashy, haggard, and terrible. Instead of starting towards him in +sorrowful surprise, as even Eustacia, undemonstrative wife as she was, +would have done in days before she burdened herself with a secret, +she remained motionless, looking at him in the glass. And while +she looked the carmine flush with which warmth and sound sleep had +suffused her cheeks and neck dissolved from view, and the deathlike +pallor in his face flew across into hers. He was close enough to see +this, and the sight instigated his tongue. + +"You know what is the matter," he said huskily. "I see it in your +face." + +Her hand relinquished the rope of hair and dropped to her side, and +the pile of tresses, no longer supported, fell from the crown of her +head about her shoulders and over the white night-gown. She made no +reply. + +"Speak to me," said Yeobright peremptorily. + +The blanching process did not cease in her, and her lips now became as +white as her face. She turned to him and said, "Yes, Clym, I'll speak +to you. Why do you return so early? Can I do anything for you?" + +"Yes, you can listen to me. It seems that my wife is not very well?" + +"Why?" + +"Your face, my dear; your face. Or perhaps it is the pale morning +light which takes your colour away? Now I am going to reveal a secret +to you. Ha-ha!" + +"O, that is ghastly!" + +"What?" + +"Your laugh." + +"There's reason for ghastliness. Eustacia, you have held my happiness +in the hollow of your hand, and like a devil you have dashed it down!" + +She started back from the dressing-table, retreated a few steps from +him, and looked him in the face. "Ah! you think to frighten me," she +said, with a slight laugh. "Is it worth while? I am undefended, and +alone." + +"How extraordinary!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"As there is ample time I will tell you, though you know well enough. +I mean that it is extraordinary that you should be alone in my +absence. Tell me, now, where is he who was with you on the afternoon +of the thirty-first of August? Under the bed? Up the chimney?" + +A shudder overcame her and shook the light fabric of her night-dress +throughout. "I do not remember dates so exactly," she said. "I +cannot recollect that anybody was with me besides yourself." + +"The day I mean," said Yeobright, his voice growing louder and +harsher, "was the day you shut the door against my mother and killed +her. O, it is too much--too bad!" He leant over the footpiece of the +bedstead for a few moments, with his back towards her; then rising +again: "Tell me, tell me! tell me--do you hear?" he cried, rushing up +to her and seizing her by the loose folds of her sleeve. + +The superstratum of timidity which often overlies those who are daring +and defiant at heart had been passed through, and the mettlesome +substance of the woman was reached. The red blood inundated her face, +previously so pale. + +"What are you going to do?" she said in a low voice, regarding him +with a proud smile. "You will not alarm me by holding on so; but it +would be a pity to tear my sleeve." + +Instead of letting go he drew her closer to him. "Tell me the +particulars of--my mother's death," he said in a hard, panting +whisper; "or--I'll--I'll--" + +"Clym," she answered slowly, "do you think you dare do anything to +me that I dare not bear? But before you strike me listen. You will +get nothing from me by a blow, even though it should kill me, as it +probably will. But perhaps you do not wish me to speak--killing may +be all you mean?" + +"Kill you! Do you expect it?" + +"I do." + +"Why?" + +"No less degree of rage against me will match your previous grief for +her." + +"Phew--I shall not kill you," he said contemptuously, as if under a +sudden change of purpose. "I did think of it; but--I shall not. That +would be making a martyr of you, and sending you to where she is; and +I would keep you away from her till the universe come to an end, if I +could." + +"I almost wish you would kill me," said she with gloomy bitterness. +"It is with no strong desire, I assure you, that I play the part I +have lately played on earth. You are no blessing, my husband." + +"You shut the door--you looked out of the window upon her--you +had a man in the house with you--you sent her away to die. The +inhumanity--the treachery--I will not touch you--stand away from +me--and confess every word!" + +"Never! I'll hold my tongue like the very death that I don't mind +meeting, even though I can clear myself of half you believe by +speaking. Yes. I will! Who of any dignity would take the trouble to +clear cobwebs from a wild man's mind after such language as this? No; +let him go on, and think his narrow thoughts, and run his head into +the mire. I have other cares." + +"'Tis too much--but I must spare you." + +"Poor charity." + +"By my wretched soul you sting me, Eustacia! I can keep it up, and +hotly too. Now, then, madam, tell me his name!" + +"Never, I am resolved." + +"How often does he write to you? Where does he put his letters--when +does he meet you? Ah, his letters! Do you tell me his name?" + +"I do not." + +"Then I'll find it myself." His eyes had fallen upon a small desk +that stood near, on which she was accustomed to write her letters. +He went to it. It was locked. + +"Unlock this!" + +"You have no right to say it. That's mine." + +Without another word he seized the desk and dashed it to the floor. +The hinge burst open, and a number of letters tumbled out. + +"Stay!" said Eustacia, stepping before him with more excitement than +she had hitherto shown. + +"Come, come! stand away! I must see them." + +She looked at the letters as they lay, checked her feeling, and moved +indifferently aside; when he gathered them up, and examined them. + +By no stretch of meaning could any but a harmless construction be +placed upon a single one of the letters themselves. The solitary +exception was an empty envelope directed to her, and the handwriting +was Wildeve's. Yeobright held it up. Eustacia was doggedly silent. + +"Can you read, madam? Look at this envelope. Doubtless we shall find +more soon, and what was inside them. I shall no doubt be gratified by +learning in good time what a well-finished and full-blown adept in a +certain trade my lady is." + +"Do you say it to me--do you?" she gasped. + +He searched further, but found nothing more. "What was in this +letter?" he said. + +"Ask the writer. Am I your hound that you should talk to me in this +way?" + +"Do you brave me? do you stand me out, mistress? Answer. Don't look +at me with those eyes as if you would bewitch me again! Sooner than +that I die. You refuse to answer?" + +"I wouldn't tell you after this, if I were as innocent as the sweetest +babe in heaven!" + +"Which you are not." + +"Certainly I am not absolutely," she replied. "I have not done what +you suppose; but if to have done no harm at all is the only innocence +recognized, I am beyond forgiveness. But I require no help from your +conscience." + +"You can resist, and resist again! Instead of hating you I could, I +think, mourn for and pity you, if you were contrite, and would confess +all. Forgive you I never can. I don't speak of your lover--I will +give you the benefit of the doubt in that matter, for it only affects +me personally. But the other: had you half-killed ME, had it been +that you wilfully took the sight away from these feeble eyes of mine, +I could have forgiven you. But THAT'S too much for nature!" + +"Say no more. I will do without your pity. But I would have saved +you from uttering what you will regret." + +"I am going away now. I shall leave you." + +"You need not go, as I am going myself. You will keep just as far +away from me by staying here." + +"Call her to mind--think of her--what goodness there was in her: it +showed in every line of her face! Most women, even when but slightly +annoyed, show a flicker of evil in some curl of the mouth or some +corner of the cheek; but as for her, never in her angriest moments was +there anything malicious in her look. She was angered quickly, but +she forgave just as readily, and underneath her pride there was the +meekness of a child. What came of it?--what cared you? You hated her +just as she was learning to love you. O! couldn't you see what was +best for you, but must bring a curse upon me, and agony and death +upon her, by doing that cruel deed! What was the fellow's name who +was keeping you company and causing you to add cruelty to her to your +wrong to me? Was it Wildeve? Was it poor Thomasin's husband? Heaven, +what wickedness! Lost your voice, have you? It is natural after +detection of that most noble trick... Eustacia, didn't any tender +thought of your own mother lead you to think of being gentle to mine +at such a time of weariness? Did not one grain of pity enter your +heart as she turned away? Think what a vast opportunity was then lost +of beginning a forgiving and honest course. Why did not you kick him +out, and let her in, and say I'll be an honest wife and a noble woman +from this hour? Had I told you to go and quench eternally our last +flickering chance of happiness here you could have done no worse. +Well, she's asleep now; and have you a hundred gallants, neither they +nor you can insult her any more." + +"You exaggerate fearfully," she said in a faint, weary voice; "but I +cannot enter into my defence--it is not worth doing. You are nothing +to me in future, and the past side of the story may as well remain +untold. I have lost all through you, but I have not complained. Your +blunders and misfortunes may have been a sorrow to you, but they +have been a wrong to me. All persons of refinement have been scared +away from me since I sank into the mire of marriage. Is this your +cherishing--to put me into a hut like this, and keep me like the wife +of a hind? You deceived me--not by words, but by appearances, which +are less seen through than words. But the place will serve as well as +any other--as somewhere to pass from--into my grave." Her words were +smothered in her throat, and her head drooped down. + +"I don't know what you mean by that. Am I the cause of your sin?" +(Eustacia made a trembling motion towards him.) "What, you can begin +to shed tears and offer me your hand? Good God! can you? No, not I. +I'll not commit the fault of taking that." (The hand she had offered +dropped nervelessly, but the tears continued flowing.) "Well, yes, +I'll take it, if only for the sake of my own foolish kisses that were +wasted there before I knew what I cherished. How bewitched I was! How +could there be any good in a woman that everybody spoke ill of?" + +"O, O, O!" she cried, breaking down at last; and, shaking with sobs +which choked her, she sank upon her knees. "O, will you have done! O, +you are too relentless--there's a limit to the cruelty of savages! I +have held out long--but you crush me down. I beg for mercy--I cannot +bear this any longer--it is inhuman to go further with this! If I +had--killed your--mother with my own hand--I should not deserve such a +scourging to the bone as this. O, O! God have mercy upon a miserable +woman!... You have beaten me in this game--I beg you to stay your hand +in pity!... I confess that I--wilfully did not undo the door the first +time she knocked--but--I--should have unfastened it the second--if +I had not thought you had gone to do it yourself. When I found you +had not I opened it, but she was gone. That's the extent of my +crime--towards HER. Best natures commit bad faults sometimes, don't +they?--I think they do. Now I will leave you--for ever and ever!" + +"Tell all, and I WILL pity you. Was the man in the house with you +Wildeve?" + +"I cannot tell," she said desperately through her sobbing. "Don't +insist further--I cannot tell. I am going from this house. We cannot +both stay here." + +"You need not go: I will go. You can stay here." + +"No, I will dress, and then I will go." + +"Where?" + +"Where I came from, or ELSEwhere." + +She hastily dressed herself, Yeobright moodily walking up and down +the room the whole of the time. At last all her things were on. Her +little hands quivered so violently as she held them to her chin to +fasten her bonnet that she could not tie the strings, and after a few +moments she relinquished the attempt. Seeing this he moved forward +and said, "Let me tie them." + +She assented in silence, and lifted her chin. For once at least in +her life she was totally oblivious of the charm of her attitude. But +he was not, and he turned his eyes aside, that he might not be tempted +to softness. + +The strings were tied; she turned from him. "Do you still prefer +going away yourself to my leaving you?" he inquired again. + +"I do." + +"Very well--let it be. And when you will confess to the man I may +pity you." + +She flung her shawl about her and went downstairs, leaving him +standing in the room. + + + +Eustacia had not long been gone when there came a knock at the door +of the bedroom; and Yeobright said, "Well?" + +It was the servant; and she replied, "Somebody from Mrs. Wildeve's +have called to tell 'ee that the mis'ess and the baby are getting on +wonderful well, and the baby's name is to be Eustacia Clementine." +And the girl retired. + +"What a mockery!" said Clym. "This unhappy marriage of mine to be +perpetuated in that child's name!" + + + + +IV + +The Ministrations of a Half-forgotten One + + +Eustacia's journey was at first as vague in direction as that of +thistledown on the wind. She did not know what to do. She wished it +had been night instead of morning, that she might at least have borne +her misery without the possibility of being seen. Tracing mile after +mile along between the dying ferns and the wet white spiders' webs, +she at length turned her steps towards her grandfather's house. She +found the front door closed and locked. Mechanically she went round +to the end where the stable was, and on looking in at the stable-door +she saw Charley standing within. + +"Captain Vye is not at home?" she said. + +"No, ma'am," said the lad in a flutter of feeling; "he's gone to +Weatherbury, and won't be home till night. And the servant is gone +home for a holiday. So the house is locked up." + +Eustacia's face was not visible to Charley as she stood at the +doorway, her back being to the sky, and the stable but indifferently +lighted; but the wildness of her manner arrested his attention. She +turned and walked away across the enclosure to the gate, and was +hidden by the bank. + +When she had disappeared Charley, with misgiving in his eyes, slowly +came from the stable door, and going to another point in the bank he +looked over. Eustacia was leaning against it on the outside, her face +covered with her hands, and her head pressing the dewy heather which +bearded the bank's outer side. She appeared to be utterly indifferent +to the circumstance that her bonnet, hair, and garments were becoming +wet and disarranged by the moisture of her cold, harsh pillow. +Clearly something was wrong. + +Charley had always regarded Eustacia as Eustacia had regarded Clym +when she first beheld him--as a romantic and sweet vision, scarcely +incarnate. He had been so shut off from her by the dignity of her +look and the pride of her speech, except at that one blissful interval +when he was allowed to hold her hand, that he had hardly deemed her +a woman, wingless and earthly, subject to household conditions and +domestic jars. The inner details of her life he had only conjectured. +She had been a lovely wonder, predestined to an orbit in which the +whole of his own was but a point; and this sight of her leaning like a +helpless, despairing creature against a wild wet bank filled him with +an amazed horror. He could no longer remain where he was. Leaping +over, he came up, touched her with his finger, and said tenderly, "You +are poorly, ma'am. What can I do?" + +Eustacia started up, and said, "Ah, Charley--you have followed me. +You did not think when I left home in the summer that I should come +back like this!" + +"I did not, dear ma'am. Can I help you now?" + +"I am afraid not. I wish I could get into the house. I feel +giddy--that's all." + +"Lean on my arm, ma'am, till we get to the porch, and I will try to +open the door." + +He supported her to the porch, and there depositing her on a seat +hastened to the back, climbed to a window by the help of a ladder, +and descending inside opened the door. Next he assisted her into the +room, where there was an old-fashioned horsehair settee as large as a +donkey-waggon. She lay down here, and Charley covered her with a cloak +he found in the hall. + +"Shall I get you something to eat and drink?" he said. + +"If you please, Charley. But I suppose there is no fire?" + +"I can light it, ma'am." + +He vanished, and she heard a splitting of wood and a blowing of +bellows; and presently he returned, saying, "I have lighted a fire in +the kitchen, and now I'll light one here." + +He lit the fire, Eustacia dreamily observing him from her couch. When +it was blazing up he said, "Shall I wheel you round in front of it, +ma'am, as the morning is chilly?" + +"Yes, if you like." + +"Shall I go and bring the victuals now?" + +"Yes, do," she murmured languidly. + +When he had gone, and the dull sounds occasionally reached her ears +of his movements in the kitchen, she forgot where she was, and had +for a moment to consider by an effort what the sounds meant. After an +interval which seemed short to her whose thoughts were elsewhere, he +came in with a tray on which steamed tea and toast, though it was +nearly lunch-time. + +"Place it on the table," she said. "I shall be ready soon." + +He did so, and retired to the door; when, however, he perceived that +she did not move he came back a few steps. + +"Let me hold it to you, if you don't wish to get up," said Charley. +He brought the tray to the front of the couch, where he knelt down, +adding, "I will hold it for you." + +Eustacia sat up and poured out a cup of tea. "You are very kind to +me, Charley," she murmured as she sipped. + +"Well, I ought to be," said he diffidently, taking great trouble +not to rest his eyes upon her, though this was their only natural +position, Eustacia being immediately before him. "You have been kind +to me." + +"How have I?" said Eustacia. + +"You let me hold your hand when you were a maiden at home." + +"Ah, so I did. Why did I do that? My mind is lost--it had to do with +the mumming, had it not?" + +"Yes, you wanted to go in my place." + +"I remember. I do indeed remember--too well!" + +She again became utterly downcast; and Charley, seeing that she was +not going to eat or drink any more, took away the tray. + +Afterwards he occasionally came in to see if the fire was burning, to +ask her if she wanted anything, to tell her that the wind had shifted +from south to west, to ask her if she would like him to gather her +some blackberries; to all which inquiries she replied in the negative +or with indifference. + +She remained on the settee some time longer, when she aroused herself +and went upstairs. The room in which she had formerly slept still +remained much as she had left it, and the recollection that this +forced upon her of her own greatly changed and infinitely worsened +situation again set on her face the undetermined and formless +misery which it had worn on her first arrival. She peeped into her +grandfather's room, through which the fresh autumn air was blowing +from the open window. Her eye was arrested by what was a familiar +sight enough, though it broke upon her now with a new significance. + +It was a brace of pistols, hanging near the head of her grandfather's +bed, which he always kept there loaded, as a precaution against +possible burglars, the house being very lonely. Eustacia regarded +them long, as if they were the page of a book in which she read a +new and a strange matter. Quickly, like one afraid of herself, she +returned downstairs and stood in deep thought. + +"If I could only do it!" she said. "It would be doing much good to +myself and all connected with me, and no harm to a single one." + +The idea seemed to gather force within her, and she remained in +a fixed attitude nearly ten minutes, when a certain finality was +expressed in her gaze, and no longer the blankness of indecision. + +She turned and went up the second time--softly and stealthily now--and +entered her grandfather's room, her eyes at once seeking the head of +the bed. The pistols were gone. + +The instant quashing of her purpose by their absence affected her +brain as a sudden vacuum affects the body: she nearly fainted. Who +had done this? There was only one person on the premises besides +herself. Eustacia involuntarily turned to the open window which +overlooked the garden as far as the bank that bounded it. On the +summit of the latter stood Charley, sufficiently elevated by its +height to see into the room. His gaze was directed eagerly and +solicitously upon her. + +She went downstairs to the door and beckoned to him. + +"You have taken them away?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Why did you do it?" + +"I saw you looking at them too long." + +"What has that to do with it?" + +"You have been heart-broken all the morning, as if you did not want +to live." + +"Well?" + +"And I could not bear to leave them in your way. There was meaning +in your look at them." + +"Where are they now?" + +"Locked up." + +"Where?" + +"In the stable." + +"Give them to me." + +"No, ma'am." + +"You refuse?" + +"I do. I care too much for you to give 'em up." + +She turned aside, her face for the first time softening from the stony +immobility of the earlier day, and the corners of her mouth resuming +something of that delicacy of cut which was always lost in her moments +of despair. At last she confronted him again. + +"Why should I not die if I wish?" she said tremulously. "I have made +a bad bargain with life, and I am weary of it--weary. And now you have +hindered my escape. O, why did you, Charley! What makes death painful +except the thought of others' grief?--and that is absent in my case, +for not a sigh would follow me!" + +"Ah, it is trouble that has done this! I wish in my very soul that he +who brought it about might die and rot, even if 'tis transportation to +say it!" + +"Charley, no more of that. What do you mean to do about this you have +seen?" + +"Keep it close as night, if you promise not to think of it again." + +"You need not fear. The moment has passed. I promise." She then went +away, entered the house, and lay down. + +Later in the afternoon her grandfather returned. He was about to +question her categorically; but on looking at her he withheld his +words. + +"Yes, it is too bad to talk of," she slowly returned in answer to his +glance. "Can my old room be got ready for me tonight, grandfather? I +shall want to occupy it again." + +He did not ask what it all meant, or why she had left her husband, but +ordered the room to be prepared. + + + + +V + +An Old Move Inadvertently Repeated + + +Charley's attentions to his former mistress were unbounded. The only +solace to his own trouble lay in his attempts to relieve hers. Hour +after hour he considered her wants: he thought of her presence there +with a sort of gratitude, and, while uttering imprecations on the +cause of her unhappiness, in some measure blessed the result. Perhaps +she would always remain there, he thought, and then he would be as +happy as he had been before. His dread was lest she should think fit +to return to Alderworth, and in that dread his eyes, with all the +inquisitiveness of affection, frequently sought her face when she was +not observing him, as he would have watched the head of a stockdove +to learn if it contemplated flight. Having once really succoured her, +and possibly preserved her from the rashest of acts, he mentally +assumed in addition a guardian's responsibility for her welfare. + +For this reason he busily endeavoured to provide her with pleasant +distractions, bringing home curious objects which he found in the +heath, such as white trumpet-shaped mosses, red-headed lichens, stone +arrow-heads used by the old tribes on Egdon, and faceted crystals from +the hollows of flints. These he deposited on the premises in such +positions that she should see them as if by accident. + +A week passed, Eustacia never going out of the house. Then she walked +into the enclosed plot and looked through her grandfather's spy-glass, +as she had been in the habit of doing before her marriage. One day +she saw, at a place where the high-road crossed the distant valley, +a heavily laden waggon passing along. It was piled with household +furniture. She looked again and again, and recognized it to be her +own. In the evening her grandfather came indoors with a rumour that +Yeobright had removed that day from Alderworth to the old house at +Blooms-End. + +On another occasion when reconnoitring thus she beheld two female +figures walking in the vale. The day was fine and clear; and the +persons not being more than half a mile off she could see their every +detail with the telescope. The woman walking in front carried a white +bundle in her arms, from one end of which hung a long appendage of +drapery; and when the walkers turned, so that the sun fell more +directly upon them, Eustacia could see that the object was a baby. +She called Charley, and asked him if he knew who they were, though +she well guessed. + +"Mrs. Wildeve and the nurse-girl," said Charley. + +"The nurse is carrying the baby?" said Eustacia. + +"No, 'tis Mrs. Wildeve carrying that," he answered, "and the nurse +walks behind carrying nothing." + +The lad was in good spirits that day, for the Fifth of November had +again come round, and he was planning yet another scheme to divert +her from her too absorbing thoughts. For two successive years his +mistress had seemed to take pleasure in lighting a bonfire on the +bank overlooking the valley; but this year she had apparently quite +forgotten the day and the customary deed. He was careful not to +remind her, and went on with his secret preparations for a cheerful +surprise, the more zealously that he had been absent last time and +unable to assist. At every vacant minute he hastened to gather +furze-stumps, thorn-tree roots, and other solid materials from the +adjacent slopes, hiding them from cursory view. + +The evening came, and Eustacia was still seemingly unconscious of the +anniversary. She had gone indoors after her survey through the glass, +and had not been visible since. As soon as it was quite dark Charley +began to build the bonfire, choosing precisely that spot on the bank +which Eustacia had chosen at previous times. + +When all the surrounding bonfires had burst into existence Charley +kindled his, and arranged its fuel so that it should not require +tending for some time. He then went back to the house, and lingered +round the door and windows till she should by some means or other +learn of his achievement and come out to witness it. But the shutters +were closed, the door remained shut, and no heed whatever seemed to +be taken of his performance. Not liking to call her he went back and +replenished the fire, continuing to do this for more than half an +hour. It was not till his stock of fuel had greatly diminished that +he went to the back door and sent in to beg that Mrs. Yeobright would +open the window-shutters and see the sight outside. + +Eustacia, who had been sitting listlessly in the parlour, started up +at the intelligence and flung open the shutters. Facing her on the +bank blazed the fire, which at once sent a ruddy glare into the room +where she was, and overpowered the candles. + +"Well done, Charley!" said Captain Vye from the chimney-corner. "But +I hope it is not my wood that he's burning... Ah, it was this time +last year that I met with that man Venn, bringing home Thomasin +Yeobright--to be sure it was! Well, who would have thought that girl's +troubles would have ended so well? What a snipe you were in that +matter, Eustacia! Has your husband written to you yet?" + +"No," said Eustacia, looking vaguely through the window at the fire, +which just then so much engaged her mind that she did not resent her +grandfather's blunt opinion. She could see Charley's form on the +bank, shovelling and stirring the fire; and there flashed upon her +imagination some other form which that fire might call up. + +She left the room, put on her garden-bonnet and cloak, and went +out. Reaching the bank, she looked over with a wild curiosity and +misgiving, when Charley said to her, with a pleased sense of himself, +"I made it o' purpose for you, ma'am." + +"Thank you," she said hastily. "But I wish you to put it out now." + +"It will soon burn down," said Charley, rather disappointed. "Is it +not a pity to knock it out?" + +"I don't know," she musingly answered. + +They stood in silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames, +till Charley, perceiving that she did not want to talk to him, moved +reluctantly away. + +Eustacia remained within the bank looking at the fire, intending to +go indoors, yet lingering still. Had she not by her situation been +inclined to hold in indifference all things honoured of the gods +and of men she would probably have come away. But her state was so +hopeless that she could play with it. To have lost is less disturbing +than to wonder if we may possibly have won: and Eustacia could now, +like other people at such a stage, take a standing-point outside +herself, observe herself as a disinterested spectator, and think what +a sport for Heaven this woman Eustacia was. + +While she stood she heard a sound. It was the splash of a stone in +the pond. + +Had Eustacia received the stone full in the bosom her heart could not +have given a more decided thump. She had thought of the possibility +of such a signal in answer to that which had been unwittingly given by +Charley; but she had not expected it yet. How prompt Wildeve was! Yet +how could he think her capable of deliberately wishing to renew their +assignations now? An impulse to leave the spot, a desire to stay, +struggled within her; and the desire held its own. More than that it +did not do, for she refrained even from ascending the bank and looking +over. She remained motionless, not disturbing a muscle of her face or +raising her eyes; for were she to turn up her face the fire on the +bank would shine upon it, and Wildeve might be looking down. + +There was a second splash into the pond. + +Why did he stay so long without advancing and looking over? Curiosity +had its way: she ascended one or two of the earth-steps in the bank +and glanced out. + +Wildeve was before her. He had come forward after throwing the last +pebble, and the fire now shone into each of their faces from the bank +stretching breast-high between them. + +"I did not light it!" cried Eustacia quickly. "It was lit without my +knowledge. Don't, don't come over to me!" + +"Why have you been living here all these days without telling me? You +have left your home. I fear I am something to blame for this?" + +"I did not let in his mother; that's how it is!" + +"You do not deserve what you have got, Eustacia; you are in great +misery; I see it in your eyes, your mouth, and all over you. My poor, +poor girl!" He stepped over the bank. "You are beyond everything +unhappy!" + +"No, no; not exactly--" + +"It has been pushed too far--it is killing you: I do think it!" + +Her usually quiet breathing had grown quicker with his words. +"I--I--" she began, and then burst into quivering sobs, shaken to +the very heart by the unexpected voice of pity--a sentiment whose +existence in relation to herself she had almost forgotten. + +This outbreak of weeping took Eustacia herself so much by surprise +that she could not leave off, and she turned aside from him in some +shame, though turning hid nothing from him. She sobbed on desperately; +then the outpour lessened, and she became quieter. Wildeve had +resisted the impulse to clasp her, and stood without speaking. + +"Are you not ashamed of me, who used never to be a crying animal?" +she asked in a weak whisper as she wiped her eyes. "Why didn't you go +away? I wish you had not seen quite all that; it reveals too much by +half." + +"You might have wished it, because it makes me as sad as you," he said +with emotion and deference. "As for revealing--the word is impossible +between us two." + +"I did not send for you--don't forget it, Damon; I am in pain, but I +did not send for you! As a wife, at least, I've been straight." + +"Never mind--I came. O, Eustacia, forgive me for the harm I have done +you in these two past years! I see more and more that I have been your +ruin." + +"Not you. This place I live in." + +"Ah, your generosity may naturally make you say that. But I am the +culprit. I should either have done more or nothing at all." + +"In what way?" + +"I ought never to have hunted you out, or, having done it, I ought +to have persisted in retaining you. But of course I have no right to +talk of that now. I will only ask this: can I do anything for you? +Is there anything on the face of the earth that a man can do to make +you happier than you are at present? If there is, I will do it. You +may command me, Eustacia, to the limit of my influence; and don't +forget that I am richer now. Surely something can be done to save +you from this! Such a rare plant in such a wild place it grieves me +to see. Do you want anything bought? Do you want to go anywhere? Do +you want to escape the place altogether? Only say it, and I'll do +anything to put an end to those tears, which but for me would never +have been at all." + +"We are each married to another person," she said faintly; "and +assistance from you would have an evil sound--after--after--" + +"Well, there's no preventing slanderers from having their fill at any +time; but you need not be afraid. Whatever I may feel I promise you +on my word of honour never to speak to you about--or act upon--until +you say I may. I know my duty to Thomasin quite as well as I know my +duty to you as a woman unfairly treated. What shall I assist you in?" + +"In getting away from here." + +"Where do you wish to go to?" + +"I have a place in my mind. If you could help me as far as Budmouth +I can do all the rest. Steamers sail from there across the Channel, +and so I can get to Paris, where I want to be. Yes," she pleaded +earnestly, "help me to get to Budmouth harbour without my +grandfather's or my husband's knowledge, and I can do all the rest." + +"Will it be safe to leave you there alone?" + +"Yes, yes. I know Budmouth well." + +"Shall I go with you? I am rich now." + +She was silent. + +"Say yes, sweet!" + +She was silent still. + +"Well, let me know when you wish to go. We shall be at our present +house till December; after that we remove to Casterbridge. Command me +in anything till that time." + +"I will think of this," she said hurriedly. "Whether I can honestly +make use of you as a friend, or must close with you as a lover--that +is what I must ask myself. If I wish to go and decide to accept your +company I will signal to you some evening at eight o'clock punctually, +and this will mean that you are to be ready with a horse and trap at +twelve o'clock the same night to drive me to Budmouth harbour in time +for the morning boat." + +"I will look out every night at eight, and no signal shall escape me." + +"Now please go away. If I decide on this escape I can only meet you +once more unless--I cannot go without you. Go--I cannot bear it +longer. Go--go!" + +Wildeve slowly went up the steps and descended into the darkness +on the other side; and as he walked he glanced back, till the bank +blotted out her form from his further view. + + + + +VI + +Thomasin Argues with Her Cousin, and He Writes a Letter + + +Yeobright was at this time at Blooms-End, hoping that Eustacia would +return to him. The removal of furniture had been accomplished only +that day, though Clym had lived in the old house for more than a week. +He had spent the time in working about the premises, sweeping leaves +from the garden-paths, cutting dead stalks from the flower-beds, and +nailing up creepers which had been displaced by the autumn winds. He +took no particular pleasure in these deeds, but they formed a screen +between himself and despair. Moreover, it had become a religion with +him to preserve in good condition all that had lapsed from his +mother's hands to his own. + +During these operations he was constantly on the watch for Eustacia. +That there should be no mistake about her knowing where to find him +he had ordered a notice board to be affixed to the garden gate at +Alderworth, signifying in white letters whither he had removed. When a +leaf floated to the earth he turned his head, thinking it might be her +footfall. A bird searching for worms in the mould of the flower-beds +sounded like her hand on the latch of the gate; and at dusk, when +soft, strange ventriloquisms came from holes in the ground, hollow +stalks, curled dead leaves, and other crannies wherein breezes, worms, +and insects can work their will, he fancied that they were Eustacia, +standing without and breathing wishes of reconciliation. + +Up to this hour he had persevered in his resolve not to invite her +back. At the same time the severity with which he had treated her +lulled the sharpness of his regret for his mother, and awoke some +of his old solicitude for his mother's supplanter. Harsh feelings +produce harsh usage, and this by reaction quenches the sentiments that +gave it birth. The more he reflected the more he softened. But to +look upon his wife as innocence in distress was impossible, though he +could ask himself whether he had given her quite time enough--if he +had not come a little too suddenly upon her on that sombre morning. + +Now that the first flush of his anger had paled he was disinclined to +ascribe to her more than an indiscreet friendship with Wildeve, for +there had not appeared in her manner the signs of dishonour. And this +once admitted, an absolutely dark interpretation of her act towards +his mother was no longer forced upon him. + +On the evening of the fifth November his thoughts of Eustacia were +intense. Echoes from those past times when they had exchanged tender +words all the day long came like the diffused murmur of a seashore +left miles behind. "Surely," he said, "she might have brought herself +to communicate with me before now, and confess honestly what Wildeve +was to her." + +Instead of remaining at home that night he determined to go and see +Thomasin and her husband. If he found opportunity he would allude to +the cause of the separation between Eustacia and himself, keeping +silence, however, on the fact that there was a third person in his +house when his mother was turned away. If it proved that Wildeve was +innocently there he would doubtless openly mention it. If he were +there with unjust intentions Wildeve, being a man of quick feeling, +might possibly say something to reveal the extent to which Eustacia +was compromised. + +But on reaching his cousin's house he found that only Thomasin was +at home, Wildeve being at that time on his way towards the bonfire +innocently lit by Charley at Mistover. Thomasin then, as always, was +glad to see Clym, and took him to inspect the sleeping baby, carefully +screening the candlelight from the infant's eyes with her hand. + +"Tamsin, have you heard that Eustacia is not with me now?" he said +when they had sat down again. + +"No," said Thomasin, alarmed. + +"And not that I have left Alderworth?" + +"No. I never hear tidings from Alderworth unless you bring them. What +is the matter?" + +Clym in a disturbed voice related to her his visit to Susan Nunsuch's +boy, the revelation he had made, and what had resulted from his +charging Eustacia with having wilfully and heartlessly done the deed. +He suppressed all mention of Wildeve's presence with her. + +"All this, and I not knowing it!" murmured Thomasin in an awestruck +tone. "Terrible! What could have made her--O, Eustacia! And when you +found it out you went in hot haste to her? Were you too cruel?--or is +she really so wicked as she seems?" + +"Can a man be too cruel to his mother's enemy?" + +"I can fancy so." + +"Very well, then--I'll admit that he can. But now what is to be +done?" + +"Make it up again--if a quarrel so deadly can ever be made up. I +almost wish you had not told me. But do try to be reconciled. There +are ways, after all, if you both wish to." + +"I don't know that we do both wish to make it up," said Clym. "If she +had wished it, would she not have sent to me by this time?" + +"You seem to wish to, and yet you have not sent to her." + +"True; but I have been tossed to and fro in doubt if I ought, after +such strong provocation. To see me now, Thomasin, gives you no idea +of what I have been; of what depths I have descended to in these few +last days. O, it was a bitter shame to shut out my mother like that! +Can I ever forget it, or even agree to see her again?" + +"She might not have known that anything serious would come of it, and +perhaps she did not mean to keep aunt out altogether." + +"She says herself that she did not. But the fact remains that keep +her out she did." + +"Believe her sorry, and send for her." + +"How if she will not come?" + +"It will prove her guilty, by showing that it is her habit to nourish +enmity. But I do not think that for a moment." + +"I will do this. I will wait for a day or two longer--not longer +than two days certainly; and if she does not send to me in that time I +will indeed send to her. I thought to have seen Wildeve here tonight. +Is he from home?" + +Thomasin blushed a little. "No," she said. "He is merely gone out +for a walk." + +"Why didn't he take you with him? The evening is fine. You want fresh +air as well as he." + +"Oh, I don't care for going anywhere; besides, there is baby." + +"Yes, yes. Well, I have been thinking whether I should not consult +your husband about this as well as you," said Clym steadily. + +"I fancy I would not," she quickly answered. "It can do no good." + +Her cousin looked her in the face. No doubt Thomasin was ignorant +that her husband had any share in the events of that tragic afternoon; +but her countenance seemed to signify that she concealed some +suspicion or thought of the reputed tender relations between Wildeve +and Eustacia in days gone by. + +Clym, however, could make nothing of it, and he rose to depart, more +in doubt than when he came. + +"You will write to her in a day or two?" said the young woman +earnestly. "I do so hope the wretched separation may come to an end." + +"I will," said Clym; "I don't rejoice in my present state at all." + +And he left her and climbed over the hill to Blooms-End. Before going +to bed he sat down and wrote the following letter:-- + + + MY DEAR EUSTACIA,--I must obey my heart without consulting + my reason too closely. Will you come back to me? Do so, and + the past shall never be mentioned. I was too severe; but O, + Eustacia, the provocation! You don't know, you never will + know, what those words of anger cost me which you drew down + upon yourself. All that an honest man can promise you I + promise now, which is that from me you shall never suffer + anything on this score again. After all the vows we have + made, Eustacia, I think we had better pass the remainder of + our lives in trying to keep them. Come to me, then, even + if you reproach me. I have thought of your sufferings + that morning on which I parted from you; I know they were + genuine, and they are as much as you ought to bear. Our + love must still continue. Such hearts as ours would never + have been given us but to be concerned with each other. I + could not ask you back at first, Eustacia, for I was unable + to persuade myself that he who was with you was not there + as a lover. But if you will come and explain distracting + appearances I do not question that you can show your + honesty to me. Why have you not come before? Do you think + I will not listen to you? Surely not, when you remember the + kisses and vows we exchanged under the summer moon. Return + then, and you shall be warmly welcomed. I can no longer + think of you to your prejudice--I am but too much absorbed + in justifying you.--Your husband as ever, + + CLYM. + + +"There," he said, as he laid it in his desk, "that's a good thing +done. If she does not come before tomorrow night I will send it to +her." + +Meanwhile, at the house he had just left Thomasin sat sighing +uneasily. Fidelity to her husband had that evening induced her to +conceal all suspicion that Wildeve's interest in Eustacia had not +ended with his marriage. But she knew nothing positive; and though +Clym was her well-beloved cousin there was one nearer to her still. + +When, a little later, Wildeve returned from his walk to Mistover, +Thomasin said, "Damon, where have you been? I was getting quite +frightened, and thought you had fallen into the river. I dislike +being in the house by myself." + +"Frightened?" he said, touching her cheek as if she were some domestic +animal. "Why, I thought nothing could frighten you. It is that you +are getting proud, I am sure, and don't like living here since we have +risen above our business. Well, it is a tedious matter, this getting +a new house; but I couldn't have set about it sooner, unless our +ten thousand pounds had been a hundred thousand, when we could have +afforded to despise caution." + +"No--I don't mind waiting--I would rather stay here twelve months +longer than run any risk with baby. But I don't like your vanishing +so in the evenings. There's something on your mind--I know there is, +Damon. You go about so gloomily, and look at the heath as if it were +somebody's gaol instead of a nice wild place to walk in." + +He looked towards her with pitying surprise. "What, do you like Egdon +Heath?" he said. + +"I like what I was born near to; I admire its grim old face." + +"Pooh, my dear. You don't know what you like." + +"I am sure I do. There's only one thing unpleasant about Egdon." + +"What's that?" + +"You never take me with you when you walk there. Why do you wander so +much in it yourself if you so dislike it?" + +The inquiry, though a simple one, was plainly disconcerting, and he +sat down before replying. "I don't think you often see me there. +Give an instance." + +"I will," she answered triumphantly. "When you went out this evening +I thought that as baby was asleep I would see where you were going to +so mysteriously without telling me. So I ran out and followed behind +you. You stopped at the place where the road forks, looked round at +the bonfires, and then said, 'Damn it, I'll go!' And you went quickly +up the left-hand road. Then I stood and watched you." + +Wildeve frowned, afterwards saying, with a forced smile, "Well, what +wonderful discovery did you make?" + +"There--now you are angry, and we won't talk of this any more." She +went across to him, sat on a footstool, and looked up in his face. + +"Nonsense!" he said, "that's how you always back out. We will go on +with it now we have begun. What did you next see? I particularly +want to know." + +"Don't be like that, Damon!" she murmured. "I didn't see anything. +You vanished out of sight, and then I looked round at the bonfires and +came in." + +"Perhaps this is not the only time you have dogged my steps. Are you +trying to find out something bad about me?" + +"Not at all! I have never done such a thing before, and I shouldn't +have done it now if words had not sometimes been dropped about you." + +"What DO you mean?" he impatiently asked. + +"They say--they say you used to go to Alderworth in the evenings, and +it puts into my mind what I have heard about--" + +Wildeve turned angrily and stood up in front of her. "Now," he said, +flourishing his hand in the air, "just out with it, madam! I demand to +know what remarks you have heard." + +"Well, I heard that you used to be very fond of Eustacia--nothing more +than that, though dropped in a bit-by-bit way. You ought not to be +angry!" + +He observed that her eyes were brimming with tears. "Well," he said, +"there is nothing new in that, and of course I don't mean to be rough +towards you, so you need not cry. Now, don't let us speak of the +subject any more." + +And no more was said, Thomasin being glad enough of a reason for not +mentioning Clym's visit to her that evening, and his story. + + + + +VII + +The Night of the Sixth of November + + +Having resolved on flight Eustacia at times seemed anxious that +something should happen to thwart her own intention. The only event +that could really change her position was the appearance of Clym. The +glory which had encircled him as her lover was departed now; yet some +good simple quality of his would occasionally return to her memory and +stir a momentary throb of hope that he would again present himself +before her. But calmly considered it was not likely that such a +severance as now existed would ever close up: she would have to live +on as a painful object, isolated, and out of place. She had used to +think of the heath alone as an uncongenial spot to be in; she felt it +now of the whole world. + +Towards evening on the sixth her determination to go away again +revived. About four o'clock she packed up anew the few small articles +she had brought in her flight from Alderworth, and also some belonging +to her which had been left here: the whole formed a bundle not too +large to be carried in her hand for a distance of a mile or two. The +scene without grew darker; mud-coloured clouds bellied downwards from +the sky like vast hammocks slung across it, and with the increase of +night a stormy wind arose; but as yet there was no rain. + +Eustacia could not rest indoors, having nothing more to do, and she +wandered to and fro on the hill, not far from the house she was soon +to leave. In these desultory ramblings she passed the cottage of +Susan Nunsuch, a little lower down than her grandfather's. The door +was ajar, and a riband of bright firelight fell over the ground +without. As Eustacia crossed the firebeams she appeared for an +instant as distinct as a figure in a phantasmagoria--a creature of +light surrounded by an area of darkness: the moment passed, and she +was absorbed in night again. + +A woman who was sitting inside the cottage had seen and recognized +her in that momentary irradiation. This was Susan herself, occupied +in preparing a posset for her little boy, who, often ailing, was now +seriously unwell. Susan dropped the spoon, shook her fist at the +vanished figure, and then proceeded with her work in a musing, absent +way. + +At eight o'clock, the hour at which Eustacia had promised to signal +Wildeve if ever she signalled at all, she looked around the premises +to learn if the coast was clear, went to the furze-rick, and pulled +thence a long-stemmed bough of that fuel. This she carried to the +corner of the bank, and, glancing behind to see if the shutters were +all closed, she struck a light, and kindled the furze. When it was +thoroughly ablaze Eustacia took it by the stem and waved it in the +air above her head till it had burned itself out. + +She was gratified, if gratification were possible to such a mood, by +seeing a similar light in the vicinity of Wildeve's residence a minute +or two later. Having agreed to keep watch at this hour every night, +in case she should require assistance, this promptness proved how +strictly he had held to his word. Four hours after the present time, +that is, at midnight, he was to be ready to drive her to Budmouth, as +prearranged. + +Eustacia returned to the house. Supper having been got over she +retired early, and sat in her bedroom waiting for the time to go by. +The night being dark and threatening, Captain Vye had not strolled out +to gossip in any cottage or to call at the inn, as was sometimes his +custom on these long autumn nights; and he sat sipping grog alone +downstairs. About ten o'clock there was a knock at the door. When +the servant opened it the rays of the candle fell upon the form of +Fairway. + +"I was a-forced to go to Lower Mistover tonight," he said, "and Mr. +Yeobright asked me to leave this here on my way; but, faith, I put it +in the lining of my hat, and thought no more about it till I got back +and was hasping my gate before going to bed. So I have run back with +it at once." + +He handed in a letter and went his way. The girl brought it to the +captain, who found that it was directed to Eustacia. He turned it +over and over, and fancied that the writing was her husband's, though +he could not be sure. However, he decided to let her have it at once +if possible, and took it upstairs for that purpose; but on reaching +the door of her room and looking in at the keyhole he found there was +no light within, the fact being that Eustacia, without undressing, had +flung herself upon the bed, to rest and gather a little strength for +her coming journey. Her grandfather concluded from what he saw that +he ought not to disturb her; and descending again to the parlour he +placed the letter on the mantelpiece to give it to her in the morning. + +At eleven o'clock he went to bed himself, smoked for some time in his +bedroom, put out his light at half-past eleven, and then, as was his +invariable custom, pulled up the blind before getting into bed, that +he might see which way the wind blew on opening his eyes in the +morning, his bedroom window commanding a view of the flagstaff and +vane. Just as he had lain down he was surprised to observe the white +pole of the staff flash into existence like a streak of phosphorus +drawn downwards across the shade of night without. Only one +explanation met this--a light had been suddenly thrown upon the pole +from the direction of the house. As everybody had retired to rest the +old man felt it necessary to get out of bed, open the window softly, +and look to the right and left. Eustacia's bedroom was lighted up, +and it was the shine from her window which had lighted the pole. +Wondering what had aroused her, he remained undecided at the window, +and was thinking of fetching the letter to slip it under her door, +when he heard a slight brushing of garments on the partition dividing +his room from the passage. + +The captain concluded that Eustacia, feeling wakeful, had gone for a +book, and would have dismissed the matter as unimportant if he had not +also heard her distinctly weeping as she passed. + +"She is thinking of that husband of hers," he said to himself. "Ah, +the silly goose! she had no business to marry him. I wonder if that +letter is really his?" + +He arose, threw his boat-cloak round him, opened the door, and said, +"Eustacia!" There was no answer. "Eustacia!" he repeated louder, +"there is a letter on the mantelpiece for you." + +But no response was made to this statement save an imaginary one from +the wind, which seemed to gnaw at the corners of the house, and the +stroke of a few drops of rain upon the windows. + +He went on to the landing, and stood waiting nearly five minutes. +Still she did not return. He went back for a light, and prepared +to follow her; but first he looked into her bedroom. There, on the +outside of the quilt, was the impression of her form, showing that the +bed had not been opened; and, what was more significant, she had not +taken her candlestick downstairs. He was now thoroughly alarmed; and +hastily putting on his clothes he descended to the front door, which +he himself had bolted and locked. It was now unfastened. There was no +longer any doubt that Eustacia had left the house at this midnight +hour; and whither could she have gone? To follow her was almost +impossible. Had the dwelling stood in an ordinary road, two persons +setting out, one in each direction, might have made sure of overtaking +her; but it was a hopeless task to seek for anybody on a heath in the +dark, the practicable directions for flight across it from any point +being as numerous as the meridians radiating from the pole. Perplexed +what to do, he looked into the parlour, and was vexed to find that the +letter still lay there untouched. + + + +At half-past eleven, finding that the house was silent, Eustacia had +lighted her candle, put on some warm outer wrappings, taken her bag in +her hand, and, extinguishing the light again, descended the staircase. +When she got into the outer air she found that it had begun to rain, +and as she stood pausing at the door it increased, threatening to come +on heavily. But having committed herself to this line of action there +was no retreating for bad weather. Even the receipt of Clym's letter +would not have stopped her now. The gloom of the night was funereal; +all nature seemed clothed in crape. The spiky points of the fir trees +behind the house rose into the sky like the turrets and pinnacles of +an abbey. Nothing below the horizon was visible save a light which +was still burning in the cottage of Susan Nunsuch. + +Eustacia opened her umbrella and went out from the enclosure by +the steps over the bank, after which she was beyond all danger of +being perceived. Skirting the pool, she followed the path towards +Rainbarrow, occasionally stumbling over twisted furze-roots, tufts +of rushes, or oozing lumps of fleshy fungi, which at this season lay +scattered about the heath like the rotten liver and lungs of some +colossal animal. The moon and stars were closed up by cloud and rain +to the degree of extinction. It was a night which led the traveller's +thoughts instinctively to dwell on nocturnal scenes of disaster in the +chronicles of the world, on all that is terrible and dark in history +and legend--the last plague of Egypt, the destruction of Sennacherib's +host, the agony in Gethsemane. + +Eustacia at length reached Rainbarrow, and stood still there to think. +Never was harmony more perfect than that between the chaos of her mind +and the chaos of the world without. A sudden recollection had flashed +on her this moment: she had not money enough for undertaking a long +journey. Amid the fluctuating sentiments of the day her unpractical +mind had not dwelt on the necessity of being well-provided, and now +that she thoroughly realized the condition she sighed bitterly and +ceased to stand erect, gradually crouching down under the umbrella as +if she were drawn into the Barrow by a hand from beneath. Could it +be that she was to remain a captive still? Money: she had never felt +its value before. Even to efface herself from the country means were +required. To ask Wildeve for pecuniary aid without allowing him to +accompany her was impossible to a woman with a shadow of pride left in +her; to fly as his mistress--and she knew that he loved her--was of +the nature of humiliation. + +Anyone who had stood by now would have pitied her, not so much on +account of her exposure to weather, and isolation from all of humanity +except the mouldered remains inside the tumulus; but for that other +form of misery which was denoted by the slightly rocking movement +that her feelings imparted to her person. Extreme unhappiness weighed +visibly upon her. Between the drippings of the rain from her umbrella +to her mantle, from her mantle to the heather, from the heather to +the earth, very similar sounds could be heard coming from her lips; +and the tearfulness of the outer scene was repeated upon her face. +The wings of her soul were broken by the cruel obstructiveness of all +about her; and even had she seen herself in a promising way of getting +to Budmouth, entering a steamer, and sailing to some opposite port, +she would have been but little more buoyant, so fearfully malignant +were other things. She uttered words aloud. When a woman in such +a situation, neither old, deaf, crazed, nor whimsical, takes upon +herself to sob and soliloquize aloud there is something grievous the +matter. + +"Can I go, can I go?" she moaned. "He's not GREAT enough for me to +give myself to--he does not suffice for my desire!... If he had been +a Saul or a Buonaparte--ah! But to break my marriage vow for him--it +is too poor a luxury!... And I have no money to go alone! And if +I could, what comfort to me? I must drag on next year, as I have +dragged on this year, and the year after that as before. How I have +tried and tried to be a splendid woman, and how destiny has been +against me!... I do not deserve my lot!" she cried in a frenzy of +bitter revolt. "O, the cruelty of putting me into this ill-conceived +world! I was capable of much; but I have been injured and blighted +and crushed by things beyond my control! O, how hard it is of Heaven +to devise such tortures for me, who have done no harm to Heaven at +all!" + + + +The distant light which Eustacia had cursorily observed in leaving +the house came, as she had divined, from the cottage window of Susan +Nunsuch. What Eustacia did not divine was the occupation of the woman +within at that moment. Susan's sight of her passing figure earlier +in the evening, not five minutes after the sick boy's exclamation, +"Mother, I do feel so bad!" persuaded the matron that an evil +influence was certainly exercised by Eustacia's propinquity. + +On this account Susan did not go to bed as soon as the evening's work +was over, as she would have done at ordinary times. To counteract +the malign spell which she imagined poor Eustacia to be working, the +boy's mother busied herself with a ghastly invention of superstition, +calculated to bring powerlessness, atrophy, and annihilation on any +human being against whom it was directed. It was a practice well +known on Egdon at that date, and one that is not quite extinct at the +present day. + +She passed with her candle into an inner room, where, among other +utensils, were two large brown pans, containing together perhaps a +hundredweight of liquid honey, the produce of the bees during the +foregoing summer. On a shelf over the pans was a smooth and solid +yellow mass of a hemispherical form, consisting of beeswax from the +same take of honey. Susan took down the lump, and cutting off several +thin slices, heaped them in an iron ladle, with which she returned +to the living-room, and placed the vessel in the hot ashes of the +fireplace. As soon as the wax had softened to the plasticity of dough +she kneaded the pieces together. And now her face became more intent. +She began moulding the wax; and it was evident from her manner of +manipulation that she was endeavouring to give it some preconceived +form. The form was human. + +By warming and kneading, cutting and twisting, dismembering and +re-joining the incipient image she had in about a quarter of an hour +produced a shape which tolerably well resembled a woman, and was +about six inches high. She laid it on the table to get cold and hard. +Meanwhile she took the candle and went upstairs to where the little +boy was lying. + +"Did you notice, my dear, what Mrs. Eustacia wore this afternoon +besides the dark dress?" + +"A red ribbon round her neck." + +"Anything else?" + +"No--except sandal-shoes." + +"A red ribbon and sandal-shoes," she said to herself. + +Mrs. Nunsuch went and searched till she found a fragment of the +narrowest red ribbon, which she took downstairs and tied round the +neck of the image. Then fetching ink and a quill from the rickety +bureau by the window, she blackened the feet of the image to the +extent presumably covered by shoes; and on the instep of each foot +marked cross-lines in the shape taken by the sandal-strings of those +days. Finally she tied a bit of black thread round the upper part of +the head, in faint resemblance to a snood worn for confining the hair. + +Susan held the object at arm's length and contemplated it with a +satisfaction in which there was no smile. To anybody acquainted with +the inhabitants of Egdon Heath the image would have suggested Eustacia +Yeobright. + +From her work-basket in the window-seat the woman took a paper of +pins, of the old long and yellow sort whose heads were disposed +to come off at their first usage. These she began to thrust into +the image in all directions, with apparently excruciating energy. +Probably as many as fifty were thus inserted, some into the head of +the wax model, some into the shoulders, some into the trunk, some +upwards through the soles of the feet, till the figure was completely +permeated with pins. + +She turned to the fire. It had been of turf; and though the high heap +of ashes which turf fires produce was somewhat dark and dead on the +outside, upon raking it abroad with the shovel the inside of the mass +showed a glow of red heat. She took a few pieces of fresh turf from +the chimney-corner and built them together over the glow, upon which +the fire brightened. Seizing with the tongs the image that she had +made of Eustacia, she held it in the heat, and watched it as it began +to waste slowly away. And while she stood thus engaged there came +from between her lips a murmur of words. + +It was a strange jargon--the Lord's Prayer repeated backwards--the +incantation usual in proceedings for obtaining unhallowed assistance +against an enemy. Susan uttered the lugubrious discourse three +times slowly, and when it was completed the image had considerably +diminished. As the wax dropped into the fire a long flame arose from +the spot, and curling its tongue round the figure ate still further +into its substance. A pin occasionally dropped with the wax, and the +embers heated it red as it lay. + + + + +VIII + +Rain, Darkness, and Anxious Wanderers + + +While the effigy of Eustacia was melting to nothing, and the fair +woman herself was standing on Rainbarrow, her soul in an abyss of +desolation seldom plumbed by one so young, Yeobright sat lonely at +Blooms-End. He had fulfilled his word to Thomasin by sending off +Fairway with the letter to his wife, and now waited with increased +impatience for some sound or signal of her return. Were Eustacia +still at Mistover the very least he expected was that she would send +him back a reply tonight by the same hand; though, to leave all to her +inclination, he had cautioned Fairway not to ask for an answer. If +one were handed to him he was to bring it immediately; if not, he was +to go straight home without troubling to come round to Blooms-End +again that night. + +But secretly Clym had a more pleasing hope. Eustacia might possibly +decline to use her pen--it was rather her way to work silently--and +surprise him by appearing at his door. How fully her mind was made up +to do otherwise he did not know. + +To Clym's regret it began to rain and blow hard as the evening +advanced. The wind rasped and scraped at the corners of the house, +and filliped the eavesdroppings like peas against the panes. He +walked restlessly about the untenanted rooms, stopping strange noises +in windows and doors by jamming splinters of wood into the casements +and crevices, and pressing together the lead-work of the quarries +where it had become loosened from the glass. It was one of those +nights when cracks in the walls of old churches widen, when ancient +stains on the ceilings of decayed manor houses are renewed and +enlarged from the size of a man's hand to an area of many feet. The +little gate in the palings before his dwelling continually opened and +clicked together again, but when he looked out eagerly nobody was +there; it was as if invisible shapes of the dead were passing in on +their way to visit him. + +Between ten and eleven o'clock, finding that neither Fairway nor +anybody else came to him, he retired to rest, and despite his +anxieties soon fell asleep. His sleep, however, was not very sound, +by reason of the expectancy he had given way to, and he was easily +awakened by a knocking which began at the door about an hour after. +Clym arose and looked out of the window. Rain was still falling +heavily, the whole expanse of heath before him emitting a subdued +hiss under the downpour. It was too dark to see anything at all. + +"Who's there?" he cried. + +Light footsteps shifted their position in the porch, and he could just +distinguish in a plaintive female voice the words, "O Clym, come down +and let me in!" + +He flushed hot with agitation. "Surely it is Eustacia!" he murmured. +If so, she had indeed come to him unawares. + +He hastily got a light, dressed himself, and went down. On his +flinging open the door the rays of the candle fell upon a woman +closely wrapped up, who at once came forward. + +"Thomasin!" he exclaimed in an indescribable tone of disappointment. +"It is Thomasin, and on such a night as this! O, where is Eustacia?" + +Thomasin it was, wet, frightened, and panting. + +"Eustacia? I don't know, Clym; but I can think," she said with much +perturbation. "Let me come in and rest--I will explain this. There +is a great trouble brewing--my husband and Eustacia!" + +"What, what?" + +"I think my husband is going to leave me or do something dreadful--I +don't know what--Clym, will you go and see? I have nobody to help me +but you! Eustacia has not yet come home?" + +"No." + +She went on breathlessly: "Then they are going to run off together! He +came indoors tonight about eight o'clock and said in an off-hand way, +'Tamsie, I have just found that I must go a journey.' 'When?' I said. +'Tonight,' he said. 'Where?' I asked him. 'I cannot tell you at +present,' he said; 'I shall be back again tomorrow.' He then went and +busied himself in looking up his things, and took no notice of me at +all. I expected to see him start, but he did not, and then it came to +be ten o'clock, when he said, 'You had better go to bed.' I didn't +know what to do, and I went to bed. I believe he thought I fell +asleep, for half an hour after that he came up and unlocked the oak +chest we keep money in when we have much in the house and took out a +roll of something which I believe was bank-notes, though I was not +aware that he had 'em there. These he must have got from the bank +when he went there the other day. What does he want bank-notes for, +if he is only going off for a day? When he had gone down I thought of +Eustacia, and how he had met her the night before--I know he did meet +her, Clym, for I followed him part of the way; but I did not like to +tell you when you called, and so make you think ill of him, as I did +not think it was so serious. Then I could not stay in bed; I got up +and dressed myself, and when I heard him out in the stable I thought +I would come and tell you. So I came downstairs without any noise and +slipped out." + +"Then he was not absolutely gone when you left?" + +"No. Will you, dear Cousin Clym, go and try to persuade him not to go? +He takes no notice of what I say, and puts me off with the story of +his going on a journey, and will be home tomorrow, and all that; but I +don't believe it. I think you could influence him." + +"I'll go," said Clym. "O, Eustacia!" + +Thomasin carried in her arms a large bundle; and having by this time +seated herself she began to unroll it, when a baby appeared as the +kernel to the husks--dry, warm, and unconscious of travel or rough +weather. Thomasin briefly kissed the baby, and then found time to +begin crying as she said, "I brought baby, for I was afraid what might +happen to her. I suppose it will be her death, but I couldn't leave +her with Rachel!" + +Clym hastily put together the logs on the hearth, raked abroad the +embers, which were scarcely yet extinct, and blew up a flame with the +bellows. + +"Dry yourself," he said. "I'll go and get some more wood." + +"No, no--don't stay for that. I'll make up the fire. Will you go at +once--please will you?" + +Yeobright ran upstairs to finish dressing himself. While he was gone +another rapping came to the door. This time there was no delusion +that it might be Eustacia's: the footsteps just preceding it had been +heavy and slow. Yeobright thinking it might possibly be Fairway with +a note in answer, descended again and opened the door. + +"Captain Vye?" he said to a dripping figure. + +"Is my granddaughter here?" said the captain. + +"No." + +"Then where is she?". + +"I don't know." + +"But you ought to know--you are her husband." + +"Only in name apparently," said Clym with rising excitement. "I +believe she means to elope tonight with Wildeve. I am just going to +look to it." + +"Well, she has left my house; she left about half an hour ago. Who's +sitting there?" + +"My cousin Thomasin." + +The captain bowed in a preoccupied way to her. "I only hope it is no +worse than an elopement," he said. + +"Worse? What's worse than the worst a wife can do?" + +"Well, I have been told a strange tale. Before starting in search of +her I called up Charley, my stable lad. I missed my pistols the other +day." + +"Pistols?" + +"He said at the time that he took them down to clean. He has now +owned that he took them because he saw Eustacia looking curiously at +them; and she afterwards owned to him that she was thinking of taking +her life, but bound him to secrecy, and promised never to think of +such a thing again. I hardly suppose she will ever have bravado +enough to use one of them; but it shows what has been lurking in her +mind; and people who think of that sort of thing once think of it +again." + +"Where are the pistols?" + +"Safely locked up. O no, she won't touch them again. But there are +more ways of letting out life than through a bullet-hole. What did +you quarrel about so bitterly with her to drive her to all this? You +must have treated her badly indeed. Well, I was always against the +marriage, and I was right." + +"Are you going with me?" said Yeobright, paying no attention to the +captain's latter remark. "If so I can tell you what we quarrelled +about as we walk along." + +"Where to?" + +"To Wildeve's--that was her destination, depend upon it." + +Thomasin here broke in, still weeping: "He said he was only going on +a sudden short journey; but if so why did he want so much money? O, +Clym, what do you think will happen? I am afraid that you, my poor +baby, will soon have no father left to you!" + +"I am off now," said Yeobright, stepping into the porch. + +"I would fain go with 'ee," said the old man doubtfully. "But I begin +to be afraid that my legs will hardly carry me there such a night as +this. I am not so young as I was. If they are interrupted in their +flight she will be sure to come back to me, and I ought to be at the +house to receive her. But be it as 'twill I can't walk to the Quiet +Woman, and that's an end on't. I'll go straight home." + +"It will perhaps be best," said Clym. "Thomasin, dry yourself, and be +as comfortable as you can." + +With this he closed the door upon her, and left the house in company +with Captain Vye, who parted from him outside the gate, taking the +middle path, which led to Mistover. Clym crossed by the right-hand +track towards the inn. + +Thomasin, being left alone, took off some of her wet garments, +carried the baby upstairs to Clym's bed, and then came down to the +sitting-room again, where she made a larger fire, and began drying +herself. The fire soon flared up the chimney, giving the room an +appearance of comfort that was doubled by contrast with the drumming +of the storm without, which snapped at the window-panes and breathed +into the chimney strange low utterances that seemed to be the prologue +to some tragedy. + +But the least part of Thomasin was in the house, for her heart being +at ease about the little girl upstairs she was mentally following Clym +on his journey. Having indulged in this imaginary peregrination for +some considerable interval, she became impressed with a sense of the +intolerable slowness of time. But she sat on. The moment then came +when she could scarcely sit longer; and it was like a satire on her +patience to remember that Clym could hardly have reached the inn as +yet. At last she went to the baby's bedside. The child was sleeping +soundly; but her imagination of possibly disastrous events at her +home, the predominance within her of the unseen over the seen, +agitated her beyond endurance. She could not refrain from going down +and opening the door. The rain still continued, the candlelight +falling upon the nearest drops and making glistening darts of them as +they descended across the throng of invisible ones behind. To plunge +into that medium was to plunge into water slightly diluted with air. +But the difficulty of returning to her house at this moment made her +all the more desirous of doing so: anything was better than suspense. +"I have come here well enough," she said, "and why shouldn't I go back +again? It is a mistake for me to be away." + +She hastily fetched the infant, wrapped it up, cloaked herself as +before, and shoveling the ashes over the fire, to prevent accidents, +went into the open air. Pausing first to put the door key in its +old place behind the shutter, she resolutely turned her face to the +confronting pile of firmamental darkness beyond the palings, and +stepped into its midst. But Thomasin's imagination being so actively +engaged elsewhere, the night and the weather had for her no terror +beyond that of their actual discomfort and difficulty. + + + +She was soon ascending Blooms-End valley and traversing the +undulations on the side of the hill. The noise of the wind over the +heath was shrill, and as if it whistled for joy at finding a night +so congenial as this. Sometimes the path led her to hollows between +thickets of tall and dripping bracken, dead, though not yet prostrate, +which enclosed her like a pool. When they were more than usually tall +she lifted the baby to the top of her head, that it might be out of +the reach of their drenching fronds. On higher ground, where the wind +was brisk and sustained, the rain flew in a level flight without +sensible descent, so that it was beyond all power to imagine the +remoteness of the point at which it left the bosoms of the clouds. +Here self-defence was impossible, and individual drops stuck into +her like the arrows into Saint Sebastian. She was enabled to avoid +puddles by the nebulous paleness which signified their presence, +though beside anything less dark than the heath they themselves would +have appeared as blackness. + +Yet in spite of all this Thomasin was not sorry that she had started. +To her there were not, as to Eustacia, demons in the air, and malice +in every bush and bough. The drops which lashed her face were not +scorpions, but prosy rain; Egdon in the mass was no monster whatever, +but impersonal open ground. Her fears of the place were rational, +her dislikes of its worst moods reasonable. At this time it was in +her view a windy, wet place, in which a person might experience much +discomfort, lose the path without care, and possibly catch cold. + +If the path is well known the difficulty at such times of keeping +therein is not altogether great, from its familiar feel to the feet; +but once lost it is irrecoverable. Owing to her baby, who somewhat +impeded Thomasin's view forward and distracted her mind, she did at +last lose the track. This mishap occurred when she was descending an +open slope about two-thirds home. Instead of attempting, by wandering +hither and thither, the hopeless task of finding such a mere thread, +she went straight on, trusting for guidance to her general knowledge +of the contours, which was scarcely surpassed by Clym's or by that of +the heath-croppers themselves. + +At length Thomasin reached a hollow and began to discern through the +rain a faint blotted radiance, which presently assumed the oblong form +of an open door. She knew that no house stood hereabouts, and was +soon aware of the nature of the door by its height above the ground. + +"Why, it is Diggory Venn's van, surely!" she said. + +A certain secluded spot near Rainbarrow was, she knew, often Venn's +chosen centre when staying in this neighbourhood; and she guessed at +once that she had stumbled upon this mysterious retreat. The question +arose in her mind whether or not she should ask him to guide her into +the path. In her anxiety to reach home she decided that she would +appeal to him, notwithstanding the strangeness of appearing before +his eyes at this place and season. But when, in pursuance of this +resolve, Thomasin reached the van and looked in she found it to be +untenanted; though there was no doubt that it was the reddleman's. +The fire was burning in the stove, the lantern hung from the nail. +Round the doorway the floor was merely sprinkled with rain, and not +saturated, which told her that the door had not long been opened. + +While she stood uncertainly looking in Thomasin heard a footstep +advancing from the darkness behind her, and turning, beheld the +well-known form in corduroy, lurid from head to foot, the lantern +beams falling upon him through an intervening gauze of raindrops. + +"I thought you went down the slope," he said, without noticing her +face. "How do you come back here again?" + +"Diggory?" said Thomasin faintly. + +"Who are you?" said Venn, still unperceiving. "And why were you +crying so just now?" + +"O, Diggory! don't you know me?" said she. "But of course you don't, +wrapped up like this. What do you mean? I have not been crying here, +and I have not been here before." + +Venn then came nearer till he could see the illuminated side of her +form. + +"Mrs. Wildeve!" he exclaimed, starting. "What a time for us to meet! +And the baby too! What dreadful thing can have brought you out on such +a night as this?" + +She could not immediately answer; and without asking her permission he +hopped into his van, took her by the arm, and drew her up after him. + +"What is it?" he continued when they stood within. + +"I have lost my way coming from Blooms-End, and I am in a great hurry +to get home. Please show me as quickly as you can! It is so silly of +me not to know Egdon better, and I cannot think how I came to lose the +path. Show me quickly, Diggory, please." + +"Yes, of course. I will go with 'ee. But you came to me before this, +Mrs. Wildeve?" + +"I only came this minute." + +"That's strange. I was lying down here asleep about five minutes ago, +with the door shut to keep out the weather, when the brushing of a +woman's clothes over the heath-bushes just outside woke me up (for I +don't sleep heavy), and at the same time I heard a sobbing or crying +from the same woman. I opened my door and held out my lantern, and +just as far as the light would reach I saw a woman: she turned her +head when the light sheened on her, and then hurried on downhill. I +hung up the lantern, and was curious enough to pull on my things and +dog her a few steps, but I could see nothing of her any more. That +was where I had been when you came up; and when I saw you I thought +you were the same one." + +"Perhaps it was one of the heath-folk going home?" + +"No, it couldn't be. 'Tis too late. The noise of her gown over the +he'th was of a whistling sort that nothing but silk will make." + +"It wasn't I, then. My dress is not silk, you see... Are we anywhere +in a line between Mistover and the inn?" + +"Well, yes; not far out." + +"Ah, I wonder if it was she! Diggory, I must go at once!" + +She jumped down from the van before he was aware, when Venn unhooked +the lantern and leaped down after her. "I'll take the baby, ma'am," +he said. "You must be tired out by the weight." + +Thomasin hesitated a moment, and then delivered the baby into Venn's +hands. "Don't squeeze her, Diggory," she said, "or hurt her little +arm; and keep the cloak close over her like this, so that the rain may +not drop in her face." + +"I will," said Venn earnestly. "As if I could hurt anything belonging +to you!" + +"I only meant accidentally," said Thomasin. + +"The baby is dry enough, but you are pretty wet," said the reddleman +when, in closing the door of his cart to padlock it, he noticed on the +floor a ring of water drops where her cloak had hung from her. + +Thomasin followed him as he wound right and left to avoid the larger +bushes, stopping occasionally and covering the lantern, while he +looked over his shoulder to gain some idea of the position of +Rainbarrow above them, which it was necessary to keep directly behind +their backs to preserve a proper course. + +"You are sure the rain does not fall upon baby?" + +"Quite sure. May I ask how old he is, ma'am?" + +"He!" said Thomasin reproachfully. "Anybody can see better than that +in a moment. She is nearly two months old. How far is it now to the +inn?" + +"A little over a quarter of a mile." + +"Will you walk a little faster?" + +"I was afraid you could not keep up." + +"I am very anxious to get there. Ah, there is a light from the +window!" + +"'Tis not from the window. That's a gig-lamp, to the best of my +belief." + +"O!" said Thomasin in despair. "I wish I had been there sooner--give +me the baby, Diggory--you can go back now." + +"I must go all the way," said Venn. "There is a quag between us and +that light, and you will walk into it up to your neck unless I take +you round." + +"But the light is at the inn, and there is no quag in front of that." + +"No, the light is below the inn some two or three hundred yards." + +"Never mind," said Thomasin hurriedly. "Go towards the light, and not +towards the inn." + +"Yes," answered Venn, swerving round in obedience; and, after a pause, +"I wish you would tell me what this great trouble is. I think you +have proved that I can be trusted." + +"There are some things that cannot be--cannot be told to--" And then +her heart rose into her throat, and she could say no more. + + + + +IX + +Sights and Sounds Draw the Wanderers Together + + +Having seen Eustacia's signal from the hill at eight o'clock, Wildeve +immediately prepared to assist her in her flight, and, as he hoped, +accompany her. He was somewhat perturbed, and his manner of informing +Thomasin that he was going on a journey was in itself sufficient to +rouse her suspicions. When she had gone to bed he collected the few +articles he would require, and went upstairs to the money-chest, +whence he took a tolerably bountiful sum in notes, which had been +advanced to him on the property he was so soon to have in possession, +to defray expenses incidental to the removal. + +He then went to the stable and coach-house to assure himself that the +horse, gig, and harness were in a fit condition for a long drive. +Nearly half an hour was spent thus, and on returning to the house +Wildeve had no thought of Thomasin being anywhere but in bed. He had +told the stable-lad not to stay up, leading the boy to understand that +his departure would be at three or four in the morning; for this, +though an exceptional hour, was less strange than midnight, the time +actually agreed on, the packet from Budmouth sailing between one and +two. + +At last all was quiet, and he had nothing to do but to wait. By no +effort could he shake off the oppression of spirits which he had +experienced ever since his last meeting with Eustacia, but he hoped +there was that in his situation which money could cure. He had +persuaded himself that to act not ungenerously towards his gentle +wife by settling on her the half of his property, and with chivalrous +devotion towards another and greater woman by sharing her fate, was +possible. And though he meant to adhere to Eustacia's instructions to +the letter, to deposit her where she wished and to leave her, should +that be her will, the spell that she had cast over him intensified, +and his heart was beating fast in the anticipated futility of such +commands in the face of a mutual wish that they should throw in their +lot together. + +He would not allow himself to dwell long upon these conjectures, +maxims, and hopes, and at twenty minutes to twelve he again went +softly to the stable, harnessed the horse, and lit the lamps; whence, +taking the horse by the head, he led him with the covered car out of +the yard to a spot by the roadside some quarter of a mile below the +inn. + +Here Wildeve waited, slightly sheltered from the driving rain by a +high bank that had been cast up at this place. Along the surface of +the road where lit by the lamps the loosened gravel and small stones +scudded and clicked together before the wind, which, leaving them +in heaps, plunged into the heath and boomed across the bushes into +darkness. Only one sound rose above this din of weather, and that was +the roaring of a ten-hatch weir to the southward, from a river in the +meads which formed the boundary of the heath in this direction. + +He lingered on in perfect stillness till he began to fancy that the +midnight hour must have struck. A very strong doubt had arisen in his +mind if Eustacia would venture down the hill in such weather; yet +knowing her nature he felt that she might. "Poor thing! 'tis like her +ill-luck," he murmured. + +At length he turned to the lamp and looked at his watch. To his +surprise it was nearly a quarter past midnight. He now wished that he +had driven up the circuitous road to Mistover, a plan not adopted +because of the enormous length of the route in proportion to that +of the pedestrian's path down the open hillside, and the consequent +increase of labour for the horse. + +At this moment a footstep approached; but the light of the lamps being +in a different direction the comer was not visible. The step paused, +then came on again. + +"Eustacia?" said Wildeve. + +The person came forward, and the light fell upon the form of Clym, +glistening with wet, whom Wildeve immediately recognized; but Wildeve, +who stood behind the lamp, was not at once recognized by Yeobright. + +He stopped as if in doubt whether this waiting vehicle could have +anything to do with the flight of his wife or not. The sight of +Yeobright at once banished Wildeve's sober feelings, who saw him again +as the deadly rival from whom Eustacia was to be kept at all hazards. +Hence Wildeve did not speak, in the hope that Clym would pass by +without particular inquiry. + +While they both hung thus in hesitation a dull sound became audible +above the storm and wind. Its origin was unmistakable--it was the +fall of a body into the stream in the adjoining mead, apparently at +a point near the weir. + +Both started. "Good God! can it be she?" said Clym. + +"Why should it be she?" said Wildeve, in his alarm forgetting that he +had hitherto screened himself. + +"Ah!--that's you, you traitor, is it?" cried Yeobright. "Why should +it be she? Because last week she would have put an end to her life if +she had been able. She ought to have been watched! Take one of the +lamps and come with me." + +Yeobright seized the one on his side and hastened on; Wildeve did +not wait to unfasten the other, but followed at once along the +meadow-track to the weir, a little in the rear of Clym. + +Shadwater Weir had at its foot a large circular pool, fifty feet in +diameter, into which the water flowed through ten huge hatches, raised +and lowered by a winch and cogs in the ordinary manner. The sides of +the pool were of masonry, to prevent the water from washing away the +bank; but the force of the stream in winter was sometimes such as +to undermine the retaining wall and precipitate it into the hole. +Clym reached the hatches, the framework of which was shaken to its +foundations by the velocity of the current. Nothing but the froth of +the waves could be discerned in the pool below. He got upon the plank +bridge over the race, and holding to the rail, that the wind might not +blow him off, crossed to the other side of the river. There he leant +over the wall and lowered the lamp, only to behold the vortex formed +at the curl of the returning current. + +Wildeve meanwhile had arrived on the former side, and the light from +Yeobright's lamp shed a flecked and agitated radiance across the +weir pool, revealing to the ex-engineer the tumbling courses of the +currents from the hatches above. Across this gashed and puckered +mirror a dark body was slowly borne by one of the backward currents. + +"O, my darling!" exclaimed Wildeve in an agonized voice; and, without +showing sufficient presence of mind even to throw off his greatcoat, +he leaped into the boiling caldron. + +Yeobright could now also discern the floating body, though but +indistinctly; and imagining from Wildeve's plunge that there was life +to be saved he was about to leap after. Bethinking himself of a wiser +plan he placed the lamp against a post to make it stand upright, and +running round to the lower part of the pool, where there was no wall, +he sprang in and boldly waded upwards towards the deeper portion. +Here he was taken off his legs, and in swimming was carried round into +the centre of the basin, where he perceived Wildeve struggling. + +While these hasty actions were in progress here, Venn and Thomasin had +been toiling through the lower corner of the heath in the direction +of the light. They had not been near enough to the river to hear the +plunge, but they saw the removal of the carriage-lamp, and watched its +motion into the mead. As soon as they reached the car and horse Venn +guessed that something new was amiss, and hastened to follow in the +course of the moving light. Venn walked faster than Thomasin, and +came to the weir alone. + +The lamp placed against the post by Clym still shone across the water, +and the reddleman observed something floating motionless. Being +encumbered with the infant, he ran back to meet Thomasin. + +"Take the baby, please, Mrs. Wildeve," he said hastily. "Run home +with her, call the stable-lad, and make him send down to me any men +who may be living near. Somebody has fallen into the weir." + +Thomasin took the child and ran. When she came to the covered car the +horse, though fresh from the stable, was standing perfectly still, as +if conscious of misfortune. She saw for the first time whose it was. +She nearly fainted, and would have been unable to proceed another step +but that the necessity of preserving the little girl from harm nerved +her to an amazing self-control. In this agony of suspense she entered +the house, put the baby in a place of safety, woke the lad and the +female domestic, and ran out to give the alarm at the nearest cottage. + +Diggory, having returned to the brink of the pool, observed that the +small upper hatches or floats were withdrawn. He found one of these +lying upon the grass, and taking it under one arm, and with his +lantern in his hand, entered at the bottom of the pool as Clym had +done. As soon as he began to be in deep water he flung himself across +the hatch; thus supported he was able to keep afloat as long as he +chose, holding the lantern aloft with his disengaged hand. Propelled +by his feet he steered round and round the pool, ascending each +time by one of the back streams and descending in the middle of the +current. + +At first he could see nothing. Then amidst the glistening of the +whirlpools and the white clots of foam he distinguished a woman's +bonnet floating alone. His search was now under the left wall, when +something came to the surface almost close beside him. It was not, as +he had expected, a woman, but a man. The reddleman put the ring of +the lantern between his teeth, seized the floating man by the collar, +and, holding on to the hatch with his remaining arm, struck out into +the strongest race, by which the unconscious man, the hatch, and +himself were carried down the stream. As soon as Venn found his feet +dragging over the pebbles of the shallower part below he secured his +footing and waded towards the brink. There, where the water stood at +about the height of his waist, he flung away the hatch, and attempted +to drag forth the man. This was a matter of great difficulty, and he +found as the reason that the legs of the unfortunate stranger were +tightly embraced by the arms of another man, who had hitherto been +entirely beneath the surface. + +At this moment his heart bounded to hear footsteps running towards +him, and two men, roused by Thomasin, appeared at the brink above. +They ran to where Venn was, and helped him in lifting out the +apparently drowned persons, separating them, and laying them out upon +the grass. Venn turned the light upon their faces. The one who had +been uppermost was Yeobright; he who had been completely submerged was +Wildeve. + +"Now we must search the hole again," said Venn. "A woman is in there +somewhere. Get a pole." + +One of the men went to the foot-bridge and tore off the handrail. The +reddleman and the two others then entered the water together from +below as before, and with their united force probed the pool forwards +to where it sloped down to its central depth. Venn was not mistaken +in supposing that any person who had sunk for the last time would +be washed down to this point, for when they had examined to about +half-way across something impeded their thrust. + +"Pull it forward," said Venn, and they raked it in with the pole till +it was close to their feet. + +Venn vanished under the stream, and came up with an armful of wet +drapery enclosing a woman's cold form, which was all that remained of +the desperate Eustacia. + +When they reached the bank there stood Thomasin, in a stress of grief, +bending over the two unconscious ones who already lay there. The +horse and cart were brought to the nearest point in the road, and it +was the work of a few minutes only to place the three in the vehicle. +Venn led on the horse, supporting Thomasin upon his arm, and the two +men followed, till they reached the inn. + +The woman who had been shaken out of her sleep by Thomasin had hastily +dressed herself and lighted a fire, the other servant being left to +snore on in peace at the back of the house. The insensible forms of +Eustacia, Clym, and Wildeve were then brought in and laid on the +carpet, with their feet to the fire, when such restorative processes +as could be thought of were adopted at once, the stableman being in +the meantime sent for a doctor. But there seemed to be not a whiff +of life left in either of the bodies. Then Thomasin, whose stupor of +grief had been thrust off awhile by frantic action, applied a bottle +of hartshorn to Clym's nostrils, having tried it in vain upon the +othertwo. He sighed. + +"Clym's alive!" she exclaimed. + +He soon breathed distinctly, and again and again did she attempt to +revive her husband by the same means; but Wildeve gave no sign. There +was too much reason to think that he and Eustacia both were for ever +beyond the reach of stimulating perfumes. Their exertions did not +relax till the doctor arrived, when one by one, the senseless three +were taken upstairs and put into warm beds. + +Venn soon felt himself relieved from further attendance, and went +to the door, scarcely able yet to realize the strange catastrophe +that had befallen the family in which he took so great an interest. +Thomasin surely would be broken down by the sudden and overwhelming +nature of this event. No firm and sensible Mrs. Yeobright lived now +to support the gentle girl through the ordeal; and, whatever an +unimpassioned spectator might think of her loss of such a husband +as Wildeve, there could be no doubt that for the moment she was +distracted and horrified by the blow. As for himself, not being +privileged to go to her and comfort her, he saw no reason for waiting +longer in a house where he remained only as a stranger. + +He returned across the heath to his van. The fire was not yet out, +and everything remained as he had left it. Venn now bethought himself +of his clothes, which were saturated with water to the weight of lead. +He changed them, spread them before the fire, and lay down to sleep. +But it was more than he could do to rest here while excited by a vivid +imagination of the turmoil they were in at the house he had quitted, +and, blaming himself for coming away, he dressed in another suit, +locked up the door, and again hastened across to the inn. Rain was +still falling heavily when he entered the kitchen. A bright fire was +shining from the hearth, and two women were bustling about, one of +whom was Olly Dowden. + +"Well, how is it going on now?" said Venn in a whisper. + +"Mr. Yeobright is better; but Mrs. Yeobright and Mr. Wildeve are dead +and cold. The doctor says they were quite gone before they were out +of the water." + +"Ah! I thought as much when I hauled 'em up. And Mrs. Wildeve?" + +"She is as well as can be expected. The doctor had her put between +blankets, for she was almost as wet as they that had been in the +river, poor young thing. You don't seem very dry, reddleman." + +"Oh, 'tis not much. I have changed my things. This is only a little +dampness I've got coming through the rain again." + +"Stand by the fire. Mis'ess says you be to have whatever you want, +and she was sorry when she was told that you'd gone away." + +Venn drew near to the fireplace, and looked into the flames in an +absent mood. The steam came from his leggings and ascended the +chimney with the smoke, while he thought of those who were upstairs. +Two were corpses, one had barely escaped the jaws of death, another +was sick and a widow. The last occasion on which he had lingered by +that fireplace was when the raffle was in progress; when Wildeve +was alive and well; Thomasin active and smiling in the next room; +Yeobright and Eustacia just made husband and wife, and Mrs. Yeobright +living at Blooms-End. It had seemed at that time that the then +position of affairs was good for at least twenty years to come. Yet, +of all the circle, he himself was the only one whose situation had not +materially changed. + +While he ruminated a footstep descended the stairs. It was the nurse, +who brought in her hand a rolled mass of wet paper. The woman was +so engrossed with her occupation that she hardly saw Venn. She took +from a cupboard some pieces of twine, which she strained across the +fireplace, tying the end of each piece to the firedog, previously +pulled forward for the purpose, and, unrolling the wet papers, she +began pinning them one by one to the strings in a manner of clothes +on a line. + +"What be they?" said Venn. + +"Poor master's bank-notes," she answered. "They were found in his +pocket when they undressed him." + +"Then he was not coming back again for some time?" said Venn. + +"That we shall never know," said she. + +Venn was loth to depart, for all on earth that interested him lay +under this roof. As nobody in the house had any more sleep that +night, except the two who slept for ever, there was no reason why +he should not remain. So he retired into the niche of the fireplace +where he had used to sit, and there he continued, watching the steam +from the double row of bank-notes as they waved backwards and forwards +in the draught of the chimney till their flaccidity was changed to +dry crispness throughout. Then the woman came and unpinned them, and, +folding them together, carried the handful upstairs. Presently the +doctor appeared from above with the look of a man who could do no +more, and, pulling on his gloves, went out of the house, the trotting +of his horse soon dying away upon the road. + +At four o'clock there was a gentle knock at the door. It was from +Charley, who had been sent by Captain Vye to inquire if anything had +been heard of Eustacia. The girl who admitted him looked in his face +as if she did not know what answer to return, and showed him in to +where Venn was seated, saying to the reddleman, "Will you tell him, +please?" + +Venn told. Charley's only utterance was a feeble, indistinct sound. +He stood quite still; then he burst out spasmodically, "I shall see +her once more?" + +"I dare say you may see her," said Diggory gravely. "But hadn't you +better run and tell Captain Vye?" + +"Yes, yes. Only I do hope I shall see her just once again." + +"You shall," said a low voice behind; and starting round they beheld +by the dim light a thin, pallid, almost spectral form, wrapped in a +blanket, and looking like Lazarus coming from the tomb. + +It was Yeobright. Neither Venn nor Charley spoke, and Clym continued, +"You shall see her. There will be time enough to tell the captain +when it gets daylight. You would like to see her too--would you not, +Diggory? She looks very beautiful now." + +Venn assented by rising to his feet, and with Charley he followed Clym +to the foot of the staircase, where he took off his boots; Charley +did the same. They followed Yeobright upstairs to the landing, where +there was a candle burning, which Yeobright took in his hand, and with +it led the way into an adjoining room. Here he went to the bedside +and folded back the sheet. + +They stood silently looking upon Eustacia, who, as she lay there still +in death, eclipsed all her living phases. Pallor did not include all +the quality of her complexion, which seemed more than whiteness; +it was almost light. The expression of her finely carved mouth was +pleasant, as if a sense of dignity had just compelled her to leave +off speaking. Eternal rigidity had seized upon it in a momentary +transition between fervour and resignation. Her black hair was looser +now than either of them had ever seen it before, and surrounded her +brow like a forest. The stateliness of look which had been almost +too marked for a dweller in a country domicile had at last found an +artistically happy background. + +Nobody spoke, till at length Clym covered her and turned aside. "Now +come here," he said. + +They went to a recess in the same room, and there, on a smaller bed, +lay another figure--Wildeve. Less repose was visible in his face than +in Eustacia's, but the same luminous youthfulness overspread it, and +the least sympathetic observer would have felt at sight of him now +that he was born for a higher destiny than this. The only sign upon +him of his recent struggle for life was in his finger-tips, which were +worn and sacrificed in his dying endeavours to obtain a hold on the +face of the weir-wall. + +Yeobright's manner had been so quiet, he had uttered so few syllables +since his reappearance, that Venn imagined him resigned. It was only +when they had left the room and stood upon the landing that the true +state of his mind was apparent. Here he said, with a wild smile, +inclining his head towards the chamber in which Eustacia lay, "She is +the second woman I have killed this year. I was a great cause of my +mother's death, and I am the chief cause of hers." + +"How?" said Venn. + +"I spoke cruel words to her, and she left my house. I did not invite +her back till it was too late. It is I who ought to have drowned +myself. It would have been a charity to the living had the river +overwhelmed me and borne her up. But I cannot die. Those who ought +to have lived lie dead; and here am I alive!" + +"But you can't charge yourself with crimes in that way," said Venn. +"You may as well say that the parents be the cause of a murder by the +child, for without the parents the child would never have been begot." + +"Yes, Venn, that is very true; but you don't know all the +circumstances. If it had pleased God to put an end to me it would +have been a good thing for all. But I am getting used to the horror +of my existence. They say that a time comes when men laugh at misery +through long acquaintance with it. Surely that time will soon come +to me!" + +"Your aim has always been good," said Venn. "Why should you say such +desperate things?" + +"No, they are not desperate. They are only hopeless; and my great +regret is that for what I have done no man or law can punish me!" + + + + +BOOK SIXTH +AFTERCOURSES + + +I + +The Inevitable Movement Onward + + +The story of the deaths of Eustacia and Wildeve was told throughout +Egdon, and far beyond, for many weeks and months. All the known +incidents of their love were enlarged, distorted, touched up, and +modified, till the original reality bore but a slight resemblance to +the counterfeit presentation by surrounding tongues. Yet, upon the +whole, neither the man nor the woman lost dignity by sudden death. +Misfortune had struck them gracefully, cutting off their erratic +histories with a catastrophic dash, instead of, as with many, +attenuating each life to an uninteresting meagreness, through long +years of wrinkles, neglect, and decay. + +On those most nearly concerned the effect was somewhat different. +Strangers who had heard of many such cases now merely heard of one +more; but immediately where a blow falls no previous imaginings +amount to appreciable preparation for it. The very suddenness of +her bereavement dulled, to some extent, Thomasin's feelings; yet, +irrationally enough, a consciousness that the husband she had lost +ought to have been a better man did not lessen her mourning at all. +On the contrary, this fact seemed at first to set off the dead husband +in his young wife's eyes, and to be the necessary cloud to the +rainbow. + +But the horrors of the unknown had passed. Vague misgivings about her +future as a deserted wife were at an end. The worst had once been +matter of trembling conjecture; it was now matter of reason only, +a limited badness. Her chief interest, the little Eustacia, still +remained. There was humility in her grief, no defiance in her +attitude; and when this is the case a shaken spirit is apt to be +stilled. + +Could Thomasin's mournfulness now and Eustacia's serenity during life +have been reduced to common measure, they would have touched the same +mark nearly. But Thomasin's former brightness made shadow of that +which in a sombre atmosphere was light itself. + +The spring came and calmed her; the summer came and soothed her; the +autumn arrived, and she began to be comforted, for her little girl was +strong and happy, growing in size and knowledge every day. Outward +events flattered Thomasin not a little. Wildeve had died intestate, +and she and the child were his only relatives. When administration +had been granted, all the debts paid, and the residue of her husband's +uncle's property had come into her hands, it was found that the sum +waiting to be invested for her own and the child's benefit was little +less than ten thousand pounds. + +Where should she live? The obvious place was Blooms-End. The old +rooms, it is true, were not much higher than the between-decks of a +frigate, necessitating a sinking in the floor under the new clock-case +she brought from the inn, and the removal of the handsome brass knobs +on its head, before there was height for it to stand; but, such as the +rooms were, there were plenty of them, and the place was endeared to +her by every early recollection. Clym very gladly admitted her as a +tenant, confining his own existence to two rooms at the top of the +back staircase, where he lived on quietly, shut off from Thomasin and +the three servants she had thought fit to indulge in now that she +was a mistress of money, going his own ways, and thinking his own +thoughts. + +His sorrows had made some change in his outward appearance; and yet +the alteration was chiefly within. It might have been said that he +had a wrinkled mind. He had no enemies, and he could get nobody to +reproach him, which was why he so bitterly reproached himself. + +He did sometimes think he had been ill-used by fortune, so far as +to say that to be born is a palpable dilemma, and that instead of +men aiming to advance in life with glory they should calculate how +to retreat out of it without shame. But that he and his had been +sarcastically and pitilessly handled in having such irons thrust into +their souls he did not maintain long. It is usually so, except with +the sternest of men. Human beings, in their generous endeavour to +construct a hypothesis that shall not degrade a First Cause, have +always hesitated to conceive a dominant power of lower moral quality +than their own; and, even while they sit down and weep by the waters +of Babylon, invent excuses for the oppression which prompts their +tears. + +Thus, though words of solace were vainly uttered in his presence, he +found relief in a direction of his own choosing when left to himself. +For a man of his habits the house and the hundred and twenty pounds a +year which he had inherited from his mother were enough to supply all +worldly needs. Resources do not depend upon gross amounts, but upon +the proportion of spendings to takings. + +He frequently walked the heath alone, when the past seized upon +him with its shadowy hand, and held him there to listen to its +tale. His imagination would then people the spot with its ancient +inhabitants: forgotten Celtic tribes trod their tracks about him, +and he could almost live among them, look in their faces, and see +them standing beside the barrows which swelled around, untouched +and perfect as at the time of their erection. Those of the dyed +barbarians who had chosen the cultivable tracts were, in comparison +with those who had left their marks here, as writers on paper beside +writers on parchment. Their records had perished long ago by the +plough, while the works of these remained. Yet they all had lived +and died unconscious of the different fates awaiting their relics. +It reminded him that unforeseen factors operate in the evolution of +immortality. + +Winter again came round, with its winds, frosts, tame robins, and +sparkling starlight. The year previous Thomasin had hardly been +conscious of the season's advance; this year she laid her heart open +to external influences of every kind. The life of this sweet cousin, +her baby, and her servants, came to Clym's senses only in the form of +sounds through a wood partition as he sat over books of exceptionally +large type; but his ear became at last so accustomed to these slight +noises from the other part of the house that he almost could witness +the scenes they signified. A faint beat of half-seconds conjured up +Thomasin rocking the cradle, a wavering hum meant that she was singing +the baby to sleep, a crunching of sand as between millstones raised +the picture of Humphrey's, Fairway's, or Sam's heavy feet crossing the +stone floor of the kitchen; a light boyish step, and a gay tune in a +high key, betokened a visit from Grandfer Cantle; a sudden break-off +in the Grandfer's utterances implied the application to his lips of a +mug of small beer, a bustling and slamming of doors meant starting to +go to market; for Thomasin, in spite of her added scope of gentility, +led a ludicrously narrow life, to the end that she might save every +possible pound for her little daughter. + +One summer day Clym was in the garden, immediately outside the parlour +window, which was as usual open. He was looking at the pot-flowers on +the sill; they had been revived and restored by Thomasin to the state +in which his mother had left them. He heard a slight scream from +Thomasin, who was sitting inside the room. + +"O, how you frightened me!" she said to some one who had entered. "I +thought you were the ghost of yourself." + +Clym was curious enough to advance a little further and look in at the +window. To his astonishment there stood within the room Diggory Venn, +no longer a reddleman, but exhibiting the strangely altered hues of +an ordinary Christian countenance, white shirt-front, light flowered +waistcoat, blue-spotted neckerchief, and bottle-green coat. Nothing +in this appearance was at all singular but the fact of its great +difference from what he had formerly been. Red, and all approach to +red, was carefully excluded from every article of clothes upon him; +for what is there that persons just out of harness dread so much as +reminders of the trade which has enriched them? + +Yeobright went round to the door and entered. + +"I was so alarmed!" said Thomasin, smiling from one to the other. "I +couldn't believe that he had got white of his own accord! It seemed +supernatural." + +"I gave up dealing in reddle last Christmas," said Venn. "It was a +profitable trade, and I found that by that time I had made enough to +take the dairy of fifty cows that my father had in his lifetime. I +always thought of getting to that place again if I changed at all, and +now I am there." + +"How did you manage to become white, Diggory?" Thomasin asked. + +"I turned so by degrees, ma'am." + +"You look much better than ever you did before." + +Venn appeared confused; and Thomasin, seeing how inadvertently she +had spoken to a man who might possibly have tender feelings for +her still, blushed a little. Clym saw nothing of this, and added +good-humouredly-- + +"What shall we have to frighten Thomasin's baby with, now you have +become a human being again?" + +"Sit down, Diggory," said Thomasin, "and stay to tea." + +Venn moved as if he would retire to the kitchen, when Thomasin said +with pleasant pertness as she went on with some sewing, "Of course +you must sit down here. And where does your fifty-cow dairy lie, Mr. +Venn?" + +"At Stickleford--about two miles to the right of Alderworth, ma'am, +where the meads begin. I have thought that if Mr. Yeobright would +like to pay me a visit sometimes he shouldn't stay away for want of +asking. I'll not bide to tea this afternoon, thank'ee, for I've got +something on hand that must be settled. 'Tis Maypole-day tomorrow, +and the Shadwater folk have clubbed with a few of your neighbours here +to have a pole just outside your palings in the heath, as it is a nice +green place." Venn waved his elbow towards the patch in front of the +house. "I have been talking to Fairway about it," he continued, "and +I said to him that before we put up the pole it would be as well to +ask Mrs. Wildeve." + +"I can say nothing against it," she answered. "Our property does not +reach an inch further than the white palings." + +"But you might not like to see a lot of folk going crazy round a +stick, under your very nose?" + +"I shall have no objection at all." + +Venn soon after went away, and in the evening Yeobright strolled as +far as Fairway's cottage. It was a lovely May sunset, and the birch +trees which grew on this margin of the vast Egdon wilderness had put +on their new leaves, delicate as butterflies' wings, and diaphanous as +amber. Beside Fairway's dwelling was an open space recessed from the +road, and here were now collected all the young people from within a +radius of a couple of miles. The pole lay with one end supported on a +trestle, and women were engaged in wreathing it from the top downwards +with wildflowers. The instincts of merry England lingered on here +with exceptional vitality, and the symbolic customs which tradition +has attached to each season of the year were yet a reality on Egdon. +Indeed, the impulses of all such outlandish hamlets are pagan +still: in these spots homage to nature, self-adoration, frantic +gaieties, fragments of Teutonic rites to divinities whose names are +forgotten, seem in some way or other to have survived mediaeval +doctrine. + +Yeobright did not interrupt the preparations, and went home again. +The next morning, when Thomasin withdrew the curtains of her bedroom +window, there stood the Maypole in the middle of the green, its top +cutting into the sky. It had sprung up in the night, or rather early +morning, like Jack's bean-stalk. She opened the casement to get a +better view of the garlands and posies that adorned it. The sweet +perfume of the flowers had already spread into the surrounding air, +which, being free from every taint, conducted to her lips a full +measure of the fragrance received from the spire of blossom in its +midst. At the top of the pole were crossed hoops decked with small +flowers; beneath these came a milk-white zone of Maybloom; then a zone +of bluebells, then of cowslips, then of lilacs, then of ragged-robins, +daffodils, and so on, till the lowest stage was reached. Thomasin +noticed all these, and was delighted that the May revel was to be so +near. + +When afternoon came people began to gather on the green, and Yeobright +was interested enough to look out upon them from the open window +of his room. Soon after this Thomasin walked out from the door +immediately below and turned her eyes up to her cousin's face. She +was dressed more gaily than Yeobright had ever seen her dressed since +the time of Wildeve's death, eighteen months before; since the day of +her marriage even she had not exhibited herself to such advantage. + +"How pretty you look today, Thomasin!" he said. "Is it because of the +Maypole?" + +"Not altogether." And then she blushed and dropped her eyes, which +he did not specially observe, though her manner seemed to him to be +rather peculiar, considering that she was only addressing himself. +Could it be possible that she had put on her summer clothes to please +him? + +He recalled her conduct towards him throughout the last few weeks, +when they had often been working together in the garden, just as they +had formerly done when they were boy and girl under his mother's eye. +What if her interest in him were not so entirely that of a relative as +it had formerly been? To Yeobright any possibility of this sort was +a serious matter; and he almost felt troubled at the thought of it. +Every pulse of loverlike feeling which had not been stilled during +Eustacia's lifetime had gone into the grave with her. His passion for +her had occurred too far on in his manhood to leave fuel enough on +hand for another fire of that sort, as may happen with more boyish +loves. Even supposing him capable of loving again, that love would be +a plant of slow and laboured growth, and in the end only small and +sickly, like an autumn-hatched bird. + +He was so distressed by this new complexity that when the enthusiastic +brass band arrived and struck up, which it did about five o'clock, +with apparently wind enough among its members to blow down his house, +he withdrew from his rooms by the back door, went down the garden, +through the gate in the hedge, and away out of sight. He could not +bear to remain in the presence of enjoyment today, though he had tried +hard. + +Nothing was seen of him for four hours. When he came back by the same +path it was dusk, and the dews were coating every green thing. The +boisterous music had ceased; but, entering the premises as he did from +behind, he could not see if the May party had all gone till he had +passed through Thomasin's division of the house to the front door. +Thomasin was standing within the porch alone. + +She looked at him reproachfully. "You went away just when it began, +Clym," she said. + +"Yes. I felt I could not join in. You went out with them, of course?" + +"No, I did not." + +"You appeared to be dressed on purpose." + +"Yes, but I could not go out alone; so many people were there. One is +there now." + +Yeobright strained his eyes across the dark-green patch beyond the +paling, and near the black form of the Maypole he discerned a shadowy +figure, sauntering idly up and down. "Who is it?" he said. + +"Mr. Venn," said Thomasin. + +"You might have asked him to come in, I think, Tamsie. He has been +very kind to you first and last." + +"I will now," she said; and, acting on the impulse, went through the +wicket to where Venn stood under the Maypole. + +"It is Mr. Venn, I think?" she inquired. + +Venn started as if he had not seen her--artful man that he was--and +said, "Yes." + +"Will you come in?" + +"I am afraid that I--" + +"I have seen you dancing this evening, and you had the very best of +the girls for your partners. Is it that you won't come in because you +wish to stand here, and think over the past hours of enjoyment?" + +"Well, that's partly it," said Mr. Venn, with ostentatious sentiment. +"But the main reason why I am biding here like this is that I want to +wait till the moon rises." + +"To see how pretty the Maypole looks in the moonlight?" + +"No. To look for a glove that was dropped by one of the maidens." + +Thomasin was speechless with surprise. That a man who had to walk +some four or five miles to his home should wait here for such a reason +pointed to only one conclusion: the man must be amazingly interested +in that glove's owner. + +"Were you dancing with her, Diggory?" she asked, in a voice which +revealed that he had made himself considerably more interesting to her +by this disclosure. + +"No," he sighed. + +"And you will not come in, then?" + +"Not tonight, thank you, ma'am." + +"Shall I lend you a lantern to look for the young person's glove, Mr. +Venn?" + +"O no; it is not necessary, Mrs. Wildeve, thank you. The moon will +rise in a few minutes." + +Thomasin went back to the porch. "Is he coming in?" said Clym, who +had been waiting where she had left him. + +"He would rather not tonight," she said, and then passed by him into +the house; whereupon Clym too retired to his own rooms. + +When Clym was gone Thomasin crept upstairs in the dark, and, just +listening by the cot, to assure herself that the child was asleep, she +went to the window, gently lifted the corner of the white curtain, +and looked out. Venn was still there. She watched the growth of +the faint radiance appearing in the sky by the eastern hill, till +presently the edge of the moon burst upwards and flooded the valley +with light. Diggory's form was now distinct on the green; he was +moving about in a bowed attitude, evidently scanning the grass for the +precious missing article, walking in zigzags right and left till he +should have passed over every foot of the ground. + +"How very ridiculous!" Thomasin murmured to herself, in a tone which +was intended to be satirical. "To think that a man should be so silly +as to go mooning about like that for a girl's glove! A respectable +dairyman, too, and a man of money as he is now. What a pity!" + +At last Venn appeared to find it; whereupon he stood up and raised +it to his lips. Then placing it in his breast-pocket--the nearest +receptacle to a man's heart permitted by modern raiment--he ascended +the valley in a mathematically direct line towards his distant home in +the meadows. + + + + +II + +Thomasin Walks in a Green Place by the Roman Road + + +Clym saw little of Thomasin for several days after this; and when they +met she was more silent than usual. At length he asked her what she +was thinking of so intently. + +"I am thoroughly perplexed," she said candidly. "I cannot for my life +think who it is that Diggory Venn is so much in love with. None of +the girls at the Maypole were good enough for him, and yet she must +have been there." + +Clym tried to imagine Venn's choice for a moment; but ceasing to be +interested in the question he went on again with his gardening. + +No clearing up of the mystery was granted her for some time. But one +afternoon Thomasin was upstairs getting ready for a walk, when she had +occasion to come to the landing and call "Rachel." Rachel was a girl +about thirteen, who carried the baby out for airings; and she came +upstairs at the call. + +"Have you seen one of my last new gloves about the house, Rachel?" +inquired Thomasin. "It is the fellow to this one." + +Rachel did not reply. + +"Why don't you answer?" said her mistress. + +"I think it is lost, ma'am." + +"Lost? Who lost it? I have never worn them but once." + +Rachel appeared as one dreadfully troubled, and at last began to cry. +"Please, ma'am, on the day of the Maypole I had none to wear, and I +seed yours on the table, and I thought I would borrow 'em. I did not +mean to hurt 'em at all, but one of them got lost. Somebody gave me +some money to buy another pair for you, but I have not been able to +go anywhere to get 'em." + +"Who's somebody?" + +"Mr. Venn." + +"Did he know it was my glove?" + +"Yes. I told him." + +Thomasin was so surprised by the explanation that she quite forgot +to lecture the girl, who glided silently away. Thomasin did not move +further than to turn her eyes upon the grass-plat where the Maypole +had stood. She remained thinking, then said to herself that she +would not go out that afternoon, but would work hard at the baby's +unfinished lovely plaid frock, cut on the cross in the newest fashion. +How she managed to work hard, and yet do no more than she had done at +the end of two hours, would have been a mystery to anyone not aware +that the recent incident was of a kind likely to divert her industry +from a manual to a mental channel. + +Next day she went her ways as usual, and continued her custom of +walking in the heath with no other companion than little Eustacia, now +of the age when it is a matter of doubt with such characters whether +they are intended to walk through the world on their hands or on their +feet; so that they get into painful complications by trying both. It +was very pleasant to Thomasin, when she had carried the child to some +lonely place, to give her a little private practice on the green turf +and shepherd's-thyme, which formed a soft mat to fall headlong upon +when equilibrium was lost. + +Once, when engaged in this system of training, and stooping to remove +bits of stick, fern-stalks, and other such fragments from the child's +path, that the journey might not be brought to an untimely end by some +insuperable barrier a quarter of an inch high, she was alarmed by +discovering that a man on horseback was almost close beside her, the +soft natural carpet having muffled the horse's tread. The rider, who +was Venn, waved his hat in the air and bowed gallantly. + +"Diggory, give me my glove," said Thomasin, whose manner it was under +any circumstances to plunge into the midst of a subject which +engrossed her. + +Venn immediately dismounted, put his hand in his breastpocket, and +handed the glove. + +"Thank you. It was very good of you to take care of it." + +"It is very good of you to say so." + +"O no. I was quite glad to find you had it. Everybody gets so +indifferent that I was surprised to know you thought of me." + +"If you had remembered what I was once you wouldn't have been +surprised." + +"Ah, no," she said quickly. "But men of your character are mostly so +independent." + +"What is my character?" he asked. + +"I don't exactly know," said Thomasin simply, "except it is to cover +up your feelings under a practical manner, and only to show them when +you are alone." + +"Ah, how do you know that?" said Venn strategically. + +"Because," said she, stopping to put the little girl, who had managed +to get herself upside down, right end up again, "because I do." + +"You mustn't judge by folks in general," said Venn. "Still I don't +know much what feelings are now-a-days. I have got so mixed up with +business of one sort and t'other that my soft sentiments are gone off +in vapour like. Yes, I am given up body and soul to the making of +money. Money is all my dream." + +"O Diggory, how wicked!" said Thomasin reproachfully, and looking at +him in exact balance between taking his words seriously and judging +them as said to tease her. + +"Yes, 'tis rather a rum course," said Venn, in the bland tone of one +comfortably resigned to sins he could no longer overcome. + +"You, who used to be so nice!" + +"Well, that's an argument I rather like, because what a man has once +been he may be again." Thomasin blushed. "Except that it is rather +harder now," Venn continued. + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Because you be richer than you were at that time." + +"O no--not much. I have made it nearly all over to the baby, as it +was my duty to do, except just enough to live on." + +"I am rather glad of that," said Venn softly, and regarding her from +the corner of his eye, "for it makes it easier for us to be friendly." + +Thomasin blushed again, and, when a few more words had been said of a +not unpleasing kind, Venn mounted his horse and rode on. + +This conversation had passed in a hollow of the heath near the old +Roman road, a place much frequented by Thomasin. And it might have +been observed that she did not in future walk that way less often from +having met Venn there now. Whether or not Venn abstained from riding +thither because he had met Thomasin in the same place might easily +have been guessed from her proceedings about two months later in the +same year. + + + + +III + +The Serious Discourse of Clym with His Cousin + + +Throughout this period Yeobright had more or less pondered on his duty +to his cousin Thomasin. He could not help feeling that it would be a +pitiful waste of sweet material if the tender-natured thing should be +doomed from this early stage of her life onwards to dribble away her +winsome qualities on lonely gorse and fern. But he felt this as an +economist merely, and not as a lover. His passion for Eustacia had +been a sort of conserve of his whole life, and he had nothing more of +that supreme quality left to bestow. So far the obvious thing was not +to entertain any idea of marriage with Thomasin, even to oblige her. + +But this was not all. Years ago there had been in his mother's mind +a great fancy about Thomasin and himself. It had not positively +amounted to a desire, but it had always been a favourite dream. That +they should be man and wife in good time, if the happiness of neither +were endangered thereby, was the fancy in question. So that what +course save one was there now left for any son who reverenced his +mother's memory as Yeobright did? It is an unfortunate fact that any +particular whim of parents, which might have been dispersed by half +an hour's conversation during their lives, becomes sublimated by +their deaths into a fiat the most absolute, with such results to +conscientious children as those parents, had they lived, would have +been the first to decry. + +Had only Yeobright's own future been involved he would have proposed +to Thomasin with a ready heart. He had nothing to lose by carrying +out a dead mother's hope. But he dreaded to contemplate Thomasin +wedded to the mere corpse of a lover that he now felt himself to be. +He had but three activities alive in him. One was his almost daily +walk to the little graveyard wherein his mother lay; another, his +just as frequent visits by night to the more distant enclosure, which +numbered his Eustacia among its dead; the third was self-preparation +for a vocation which alone seemed likely to satisfy his cravings--that +of an itinerant preacher of the eleventh commandment. It was +difficult to believe that Thomasin would be cheered by a husband with +such tendencies as these. + +Yet he resolved to ask her, and let her decide for herself. It was +even with a pleasant sense of doing his duty that he went downstairs +to her one evening for this purpose, when the sun was printing on the +valley the same long shadow of the housetop that he had seen lying +there times out of number while his mother lived. + +Thomasin was not in her room, and he found her in the front garden. +"I have long been wanting, Thomasin," he began, "to say something +about a matter that concerns both our futures." + +"And you are going to say it now?" she remarked quickly, colouring as +she met his gaze. "Do stop a minute, Clym, and let me speak first, +for oddly enough, I have been wanting to say something to you." + +"By all means say on, Tamsie." + +"I suppose nobody can overhear us?" she went on, casting her eyes +around and lowering her voice. "Well, first you will promise me +this--that you won't be angry and call me anything harsh if you +disagree with what I propose?" + +Yeobright promised, and she continued: "What I want is your advice, +for you are my relation--I mean, a sort of guardian to me--aren't you, +Clym?" + +"Well, yes, I suppose I am; a sort of guardian. In fact, I am, of +course," he said, altogether perplexed as to her drift. + +"I am thinking of marrying," she then observed blandly. "But I shall +not marry unless you assure me that you approve of such a step. Why +don't you speak?" + +"I was taken rather by surprise. But, nevertheless, I am very glad +to hear such news. I shall approve, of course, dear Tamsie. Who can +it be? I am quite at a loss to guess. No I am not--'tis the old +doctor!--not that I mean to call him old, for he is not very old after +all. Ah--I noticed when he attended you last time!" + +"No, no," she said hastily. "'Tis Mr. Venn." + +Clym's face suddenly became grave. + +"There, now, you don't like him, and I wish I hadn't mentioned him!" +she exclaimed almost petulantly. "And I shouldn't have done it, +either, only he keeps on bothering me so till I don't know what to +do!" + +Clym looked at the heath. "I like Venn well enough," he answered at +last. "He is a very honest and at the same time astute man. He is +clever too, as is proved by his having got you to favour him. But +really, Thomasin, he is not quite--" + +"Gentleman enough for me? That is just what I feel. I am sorry now +that I asked you, and I won't think any more of him. At the same time +I must marry him if I marry anybody--that I WILL say!" + +"I don't see that," said Clym, carefully concealing every clue to his +own interrupted intention, which she plainly had not guessed. "You +might marry a professional man, or somebody of that sort, by going +into the town to live and forming acquaintances there." + +"I am not fit for town life--so very rural and silly as I always have +been. Do not you yourself notice my countrified ways?" + +"Well, when I came home from Paris I did, a little; but I don't now." + +"That's because you have got countrified too. O, I couldn't live in a +street for the world! Egdon is a ridiculous old place; but I have got +used to it, and I couldn't be happy anywhere else at all." + +"Neither could I," said Clym. + +"Then how could you say that I should marry some town man? I am sure, +say what you will, that I must marry Diggory, if I marry at all. He +has been kinder to me than anybody else, and has helped me in many +ways that I don't know of!" Thomasin almost pouted now. + +"Yes, he has," said Clym in a neutral tone. "Well, I wish with all my +heart that I could say, marry him. But I cannot forget what my mother +thought on that matter, and it goes rather against me not to respect +her opinion. There is too much reason why we should do the little we +can to respect it now." + +"Very well, then," sighed Thomasin. "I will say no more." + +"But you are not bound to obey my wishes. I merely say what I think." + +"O no--I don't want to be rebellious in that way," she said sadly. "I +had no business to think of him--I ought to have thought of my family. +What dreadfully bad impulses there are in me!" Her lips trembled, and +she turned away to hide a tear. + +Clym, though vexed at what seemed her unaccountable taste, was in a +measure relieved to find that at any rate the marriage question in +relation to himself was shelved. Through several succeeding days +he saw her at different times from the window of his room moping +disconsolately about the garden. He was half angry with her for +choosing Venn; then he was grieved at having put himself in the way +of Venn's happiness, who was, after all, as honest and persevering a +young fellow as any on Egdon, since he had turned over a new leaf. +In short, Clym did not know what to do. + +When next they met she said abruptly, "He is much more respectable +now than he was then!" + +"Who? O yes--Diggory Venn." + +"Aunt only objected because he was a reddleman." + +"Well, Thomasin, perhaps I don't know all the particulars of my +mother's wish. So you had better use your own discretion." + +"You will always feel that I slighted your mother's memory." + +"No, I will not. I shall think you are convinced that, had she seen +Diggory in his present position, she would have considered him a +fitting husband for you. Now, that's my real feeling. Don't consult +me any more, but do as you like, Thomasin. I shall be content." + +It is to be supposed that Thomasin was convinced; for a few days after +this, when Clym strayed into a part of the heath that he had not +lately visited, Humphrey, who was at work there, said to him, "I am +glad to see that Mrs. Wildeve and Venn have made it up again, +seemingly." + +"Have they?" said Clym abstractedly. + +"Yes; and he do contrive to stumble upon her whenever she walks out +on fine days with the chiel. But, Mr. Yeobright, I can't help feeling +that your cousin ought to have married you. 'Tis a pity to make two +chimley-corners where there need be only one. You could get her away +from him now, 'tis my belief, if you were only to set about it." + +"How can I have the conscience to marry after having driven two +women to their deaths? Don't think such a thing, Humphrey. After my +experience I should consider it too much of a burlesque to go to +church and take a wife. In the words of Job, 'I have made a covenant +with mine eyes; why then should I think upon a maid?'" + +"No, Mr. Clym, don't fancy that about driving two women to their +deaths. You shouldn't say it." + +"Well, we'll leave that out," said Yeobright. "But anyhow God has +set a mark upon me which wouldn't look well in a lovemaking scene. +I have two ideas in my head, and no others. I am going to keep a +night-school; and I am going to turn preacher. What have you got to +say to that, Humphrey?" + +"I'll come and hear 'ee with all my heart." + +"Thanks. 'Tis all I wish." + +As Clym descended into the valley Thomasin came down by the other +path, and met him at the gate. "What do you think I have to tell you, +Clym?" she said, looking archly over her shoulder at him. + +"I can guess," he replied. + +She scrutinized his face. "Yes, you guess right. It is going to be +after all. He thinks I may as well make up my mind, and I have got to +think so too. It is to be on the twenty-fifth of next month, if you +don't object." + +"Do what you think right, dear. I am only too glad that you see your +way clear to happiness again. My sex owes you every amends for the +treatment you received in days gone by." + + + + +IV + +Cheerfulness Again Asserts Itself at Blooms-End, +and Clym Finds His Vocation + + +Anybody who had passed through Blooms-End about eleven o'clock on the +morning fixed for the wedding would have found that, while Yeobright's +house was comparatively quiet, sounds denoting great activity came +from the dwelling of his nearest neighbour, Timothy Fairway. It was +chiefly a noise of feet, briskly crunching hither and thither over +the sanded floor within. One man only was visible outside, and he +seemed to be later at an appointment than he had intended to be, for +he hastened up to the door, lifted the latch, and walked in without +ceremony. + +The scene within was not quite the customary one. Standing about the +room was the little knot of men who formed the chief part of the +Egdon coterie, there being present Fairway himself, Grandfer Cantle, +Humphrey, Christian, and one or two turf-cutters. It was a warm day, +and the men were as a matter of course in their shirtsleeves, except +Christian, who had always a nervous fear of parting with a scrap of +his clothing when in anybody's house but his own. Across the stout oak +table in the middle of the room was thrown a mass of striped linen, +which Grandfer Cantle held down on one side, and Humphrey on the +other, while Fairway rubbed its surface with a yellow lump, his face +being damp and creased with the effort of the labour. + +"Waxing a bed-tick, souls?" said the newcomer. + +"Yes, Sam," said Grandfer Cantle, as a man too busy to waste words. +"Shall I stretch this corner a shade tighter, Timothy?" + +Fairway replied, and the waxing went on with unabated vigour. "'Tis +going to be a good bed, by the look o't," continued Sam, after an +interval of silence. "Who may it be for?" + +"'Tis a present for the new folks that's going to set up +housekeeping," said Christian, who stood helpless and overcome by the +majesty of the proceedings. + +"Ah, to be sure; and a valuable one, 'a b'lieve." + +"Beds be dear to fokes that don't keep geese, bain't they, Mister +Fairway?" said Christian, as to an omniscient being. + +"Yes," said the furze-dealer, standing up, giving his forehead a +thorough mopping, and handing the beeswax to Humphrey, who succeeded +at the rubbing forthwith. "Not that this couple be in want of one, but +'twas well to show 'em a bit of friendliness at this great racketing +vagary of their lives. I set up both my own daughters in one when +they was married, and there have been feathers enough for another in +the house the last twelve months. Now then, neighbours, I think we +have laid on enough wax. Grandfer Cantle, you turn the tick the right +way outwards, and then I'll begin to shake in the feathers." + +When the bed was in proper trim Fairway and Christian brought forward +vast paper bags, stuffed to the full, but light as balloons, and began +to turn the contents of each into the receptacle just prepared. As +bag after bag was emptied, airy tufts of down and feathers floated +about the room in increasing quantity till, through a mishap of +Christian's, who shook the contents of one bag outside the tick, +the atmosphere of the room became dense with gigantic flakes, which +descended upon the workers like a windless snowstorm. + +"I never saw such a clumsy chap as you, Christian," said Grandfer +Cantle severely. "You might have been the son of a man that's never +been outside Blooms-End in his life for all the wit you have. Really +all the soldiering and smartness in the world in the father seems to +count for nothing in forming the nater of the son. As far as that +chiel Christian is concerned I might as well have stayed at home and +seed nothing, like all the rest of ye here. Though, as far as myself +is concerned, a dashing spirit has counted for sommat, to be sure!" + +"Don't ye let me down so, father; I feel no bigger than a ninepin +after it. I've made but a bruckle hit, I'm afeard." + +"Come, come. Never pitch yerself in such a low key as that, +Christian; you should try more," said Fairway. + +"Yes, you should try more," echoed the Grandfer with insistence, as if +he had been the first to make the suggestion. "In common conscience +every man ought either to marry or go for a soldier. 'Tis a scandal +to the nation to do neither one nor t'other. I did both, thank God! +Neither to raise men nor to lay 'em low--that shows a poor do-nothing +spirit indeed." + +"I never had the nerve to stand fire," faltered Christian. "But as to +marrying, I own I've asked here and there, though without much fruit +from it. Yes, there's some house or other that might have had a +man for a master--such as he is--that's now ruled by a woman alone. +Still it might have been awkward if I had found her; for, d'ye see, +neighbours, there'd have been nobody left at home to keep down +father's spirits to the decent pitch that becomes a old man." + +"And you've your work cut out to do that, my son," said Grandfer +Cantle smartly. "I wish that the dread of infirmities was not so +strong in me!--I'd start the very first thing tomorrow to see the +world over again! But seventy-one, though nothing at home, is a high +figure for a rover... Ay, seventy-one, last Candlemasday. Gad, I'd +sooner have it in guineas than in years!" And the old man sighed. + +"Don't you be mournful, Grandfer," said Fairway. "Empt some more +feathers into the bed-tick, and keep up yer heart. Though rather +lean in the stalks you be a green-leaved old man still. There's time +enough left to ye yet to fill whole chronicles." + +"Begad, I'll go to 'em, Timothy--to the married pair!" said Granfer +Cantle in an encouraged voice, and starting round briskly. "I'll go +to 'em tonight and sing a wedding song, hey? 'Tis like me to do so, +you know; and they'd see it as such. My 'Down in Cupid's Gardens' was +well liked in four; still, I've got others as good, and even better. +What do you say to my + + + She cal´-led to´ her love´ + From the lat´-tice a-bove, + 'O come in´ from the fog´-gy fog´-gy dew´.' + + +"'Twould please 'em well at such a time! Really, now I come to think of +it, I haven't turned my tongue in my head to the shape of a real good +song since Old Midsummer night, when we had the 'Barley Mow' at the +Woman; and 'tis a pity to neglect your strong point where there's few +that have the compass for such things!" + +"So 'tis, so 'tis," said Fairway. "Now gie the bed a shake down. +We've put in seventy pound of best feathers, and I think that's as +many as the tick will fairly hold. A bit and a drap wouldn't be amiss +now, I reckon. Christian, maul down the victuals from corner-cupboard +if canst reach, man, and I'll draw a drap o' sommat to wet it with." + +They sat down to a lunch in the midst of their work, feathers around, +above, and below them; the original owners of which occasionally came +to the open door and cackled begrudgingly at sight of such a quantity +of their old clothes. + +"Upon my soul I shall be chokt," said Fairway when, having extracted a +feather from his mouth, he found several others floating on the mug as +it was handed round. + +"I've swallered several; and one had a tolerable quill," said Sam +placidly from the corner. + +"Hullo--what's that--wheels I hear coming?" Grandfer Cantle exclaimed, +jumping up and hastening to the door. "Why, 'tis they back again: I +didn't expect 'em yet this half-hour. To be sure, how quick marrying +can be done when you are in the mind for't!" + +"O yes, it can soon be DONE," said Fairway, as if something should be +added to make the statement complete. + +He arose and followed the Grandfer, and the rest also went to the +door. In a moment an open fly was driven past, in which sat Venn and +Mrs. Venn, Yeobright, and a grand relative of Venn's who had come +from Budmouth for the occasion. The fly had been hired at the nearest +town, regardless of distance and cost, there being nothing on Egdon +Heath, in Venn's opinion, dignified enough for such an event when such +a woman as Thomasin was the bride; and the church was too remote for a +walking bridal-party. + +As the fly passed the group which had run out from the homestead they +shouted "Hurrah!" and waved their hands; feathers and down floating +from their hair, their sleeves, and the folds of their garments at +every motion, and Grandfer Cantle's seals dancing merrily in the +sunlight as he twirled himself about. The driver of the fly turned +a supercilious gaze upon them; he even treated the wedded pair +themselves with something like condescension; for in what other +state than heathen could people, rich or poor, exist who were doomed +to abide in such a world's end as Egdon? Thomasin showed no such +superiority to the group at the door, fluttering her hand as quickly +as a bird's wing towards them, and asking Diggory, with tears in her +eyes, if they ought not to alight and speak to these kind neighbours. +Venn, however, suggested that, as they were all coming to the house in +the evening, this was hardly necessary. + +After this excitement the saluting party returned to their occupation, +and the stuffing and sewing were soon afterwards finished, when +Fairway harnessed a horse, wrapped up the cumbrous present, and drove +off with it in the cart to Venn's house at Stickleford. + + + +Yeobright, having filled the office at the wedding service which +naturally fell to his hands, and afterwards returned to the house with +the husband and wife, was indisposed to take part in the feasting and +dancing that wound up the evening. Thomasin was disappointed. + +"I wish I could be there without dashing your spirits," he said. "But +I might be too much like the skull at the banquet." + +"No, no." + +"Well, dear, apart from that, if you would excuse me, I should be +glad. I know it seems unkind; but, dear Thomasin, I fear I should not +be happy in the company--there, that's the truth of it. I shall +always be coming to see you at your new home, you know, so that my +absence now will not matter." + +"Then I give in. Do whatever will be most comfortable to yourself." + +Clym retired to his lodging at the housetop much relieved, and +occupied himself during the afternoon in noting down the heads of a +sermon, with which he intended to initiate all that really seemed +practicable of the scheme that had originally brought him hither, and +that he had so long kept in view under various modifications, and +through evil and good report. He had tested and weighed his +convictions again and again, and saw no reason to alter them, though +he had considerably lessened his plan. His eyesight, by long +humouring in his native air, had grown stronger, but not sufficiently +strong to warrant his attempting his extensive educational project. +Yet he did not repine: there was still more than enough of an +unambitious sort to tax all his energies and occupy all his hours. + +Evening drew on, and sounds of life and movement in the lower part of +the domicile became more pronounced, the gate in the palings clicking +incessantly. The party was to be an early one, and all the guests +were assembled long before it was dark. Yeobright went down the back +staircase and into the heath by another path than that in front, +intending to walk in the open air till the party was over, when he +would return to wish Thomasin and her husband good-bye as they +departed. His steps were insensibly bent towards Mistover by the path +that he had followed on that terrible morning when he learnt the +strange news from Susan's boy. + +He did not turn aside to the cottage, but pushed on to an eminence, +whence he could see over the whole quarter that had once been +Eustacia's home. While he stood observing the darkening scene +somebody came up. Clym, seeing him but dimly, would have let him pass +silently, had not the pedestrian, who was Charley, recognized the +young man and spoken to him. + +"Charley, I have not seen you for a length of time," said Yeobright. +"Do you often walk this way?" + +"No," the lad replied. "I don't often come outside the bank." + +"You were not at the Maypole." + +"No," said Charley, in the same listless tone. "I don't care for that +sort of thing now." + +"You rather liked Miss Eustacia, didn't you?" Yeobright gently asked. +Eustacia had frequently told him of Charley's romantic attachment. + +"Yes, very much. Ah, I wish--" + +"Yes?" + +"I wish, Mr. Yeobright, you could give me something to keep that once +belonged to her--if you don't mind." + +"I shall be very happy to. It will give me very great pleasure, +Charley. Let me think what I have of hers that you would like. But +come with me to the house, and I'll see." + +They walked towards Blooms-End together. When they reached the front +it was dark, and the shutters were closed, so that nothing of the +interior could be seen. + +"Come round this way," said Clym. "My entrance is at the back for the +present." + +The two went round and ascended the crooked stair in darkness till +Clym's sitting-room on the upper floor was reached, where he lit a +candle, Charley entering gently behind. Yeobright searched his desk, +and taking out a sheet of tissue-paper unfolded from it two or three +undulating locks of raven hair, which fell over the paper like black +streams. From these he selected one, wrapped it up, and gave it to +the lad, whose eyes had filled with tears. He kissed the packet, put +it in his pocket, and said in a voice of emotion, "O, Mr. Clym, how +good you are to me!" + +"I will go a little way with you," said Clym. And amid the noise of +merriment from below they descended. Their path to the front led them +close to a little side-window, whence the rays of candles streamed +across the shrubs. The window, being screened from general +observation by the bushes, had been left unblinded, so that a person +in this private nook could see all that was going on within the room +which contained the wedding-guests, except in so far as vision was +hindered by the green antiquity of the panes. + +"Charley, what are they doing?" said Clym. "My sight is weaker again +tonight, and the glass of this window is not good." + +Charley wiped his own eyes, which were rather blurred with moisture, +and stepped closer to the casement. "Mr. Venn is asking Christian +Cantle to sing," he replied, "and Christian is moving about in his +chair as if he were much frightened at the question, and his father +has struck up a stave instead of him." + +"Yes, I can hear the old man's voice," said Clym. "So there's to be +no dancing, I suppose. And is Thomasin in the room? I see something +moving in front of the candles that resembles her shape, I think." + +"Yes. She do seem happy. She is red in the face, and laughing at +something Fairway has said to her. O my!" + +"What noise was that?" said Clym. + +"Mr. Venn is so tall that he knocked his head against the beam in +gieing a skip as he passed under. Mrs. Venn has run up quite +frightened and now she's put her hand to his head to feel if there's a +lump. And now they be all laughing again as if nothing had happened." + +"Do any of them seem to care about my not being there?" Clym asked. + +"No, not a bit in the world. Now they are all holding up their +glasses and drinking somebody's health." + +"I wonder if it is mine?" + +"No, 'tis Mr. and Mrs. Venn's, because he is making a hearty sort of +speech. There--now Mrs. Venn has got up, and is going away to put on +her things, I think." + +"Well, they haven't concerned themselves about me, and it is quite +right they should not. It is all as it should be, and Thomasin at +least is happy. We will not stay any longer now, as they will soon be +coming out to go home." + +He accompanied the lad into the heath on his way home, and, returning +alone to the house a quarter of an hour later, found Venn and Thomasin +ready to start, all the guests having departed in his absence. The +wedded pair took their seats in the four-wheeled dogcart which Venn's +head milker and handy man had driven from Stickleford to fetch them +in; little Eustacia and the nurse were packed securely upon the open +flap behind; and the milker, on an ancient overstepping pony, whose +shoes clashed like cymbals at every tread, rode in the rear, in the +manner of a body-servant of the last century. + +"Now we leave you in absolute possession of your own house again," +said Thomasin as she bent down to wish her cousin good night. "It +will be rather lonely for you, Clym, after the hubbub we have been +making." + +"O, that's no inconvenience," said Clym, smiling rather sadly. And +then the party drove off and vanished in the night shades, and +Yeobright entered the house. The ticking of the clock was the only +sound that greeted him, for not a soul remained; Christian, who acted +as cook, valet, and gardener to Clym, sleeping at his father's house. +Yeobright sat down in one of the vacant chairs, and remained in +thought a long time. His mother's old chair was opposite; it had been +sat in that evening by those who had scarcely remembered that it ever +was hers. But to Clym she was almost a presence there, now as always. +Whatever she was in other people's memories, in his she was the +sublime saint whose radiance even his tenderness for Eustacia could +not obscure. But his heart was heavy; that mother had NOT crowned him +in the day of his espousals and in the day of the gladness of his +heart. And events had borne out the accuracy of her judgment, and +proved the devotedness of her care. He should have heeded her for +Eustacia's sake even more than for his own. "It was all my fault," he +whispered. "O, my mother, my mother! would to God that I could live +my life again, and endure for you what you endured for me!" + + + +On the Sunday after this wedding an unusual sight was to be seen on +Rainbarrow. From a distance there simply appeared to be a motionless +figure standing on the top of the tumulus, just as Eustacia had stood +on that lonely summit some two years and a half before. But now it +was fine warm weather, with only a summer breeze blowing, and early +afternoon instead of dull twilight. Those who ascended to the +immediate neighbourhood of the Barrow perceived that the erect form in +the centre, piercing the sky, was not really alone. Round him upon +the slopes of the Barrow a number of heathmen and women were reclining +or sitting at their ease. They listened to the words of the man in +their midst, who was preaching, while they abstractedly pulled +heather, stripped ferns, or tossed pebbles down the slope. This was +the first of a series of moral lectures or Sermons on the Mount, which +were to be delivered from the same place every Sunday afternoon as +long as the fine weather lasted. + +The commanding elevation of Rainbarrow had been chosen for two +reasons: first, that it occupied a central position among the remote +cottages around; secondly, that the preacher thereon could be seen +from all adjacent points as soon as he arrived at his post, the view +of him being thus a convenient signal to those stragglers who wished +to draw near. The speaker was bareheaded, and the breeze at each waft +gently lifted and lowered his hair, somewhat too thin for a man of his +years, these still numbering less than thirty-three. He wore a shade +over his eyes, and his face was pensive and lined; but, though these +bodily features were marked with decay there was no defect in the +tones of his voice, which were rich, musical, and stirring. He stated +that his discourses to people were to be sometimes secular, and +sometimes religious, but never dogmatic; and that his texts would be +taken from all kinds of books. This afternoon the words were as +follows:-- + + + "'And the king rose up to meet her, and bowed himself unto + her, and sat down on his throne, and caused a seat to be set + for the king's mother; and she sat on his right hand. Then + she said, I desire one small petition of thee; I pray thee + say me not nay. And the king said unto her, Ask, on, my + mother: for I will not say thee nay.'" + + +Yeobright had, in fact, found his vocation in the career of an +itinerant open-air preacher and lecturer on morally unimpeachable +subjects; and from this day he laboured incessantly in that office, +speaking not only in simple language on Rainbarrow and in the hamlets +round, but in a more cultivated strain elsewhere--from the steps and +porticoes of town-halls, from market-crosses, from conduits, on +esplanades and on wharves, from the parapets of bridges, in barns and +outhouses, and all other such places in the neighbouring Wessex towns +and villages. He left alone creeds and systems of philosophy, finding +enough and more than enough to occupy his tongue in the opinions and +actions common to all good men. Some believed him, and some believed +not; some said that his words were commonplace, others complained of +his want of theological doctrine; while others again remarked that it +was well enough for a man to take to preaching who could not see to do +anything else. But everywhere he was kindly received, for the story +of his life had become generally known. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE*** + + +******* This file should be named 17500-8.txt or 17500-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/5/0/17500 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: The Return of the Native</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Thomas Hardy</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: January 12, 2006 [eBook #17500]<br /> +Most recently updated: March 13, 2013 +</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D., and John Hamm</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1>THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE</h1> + +<h4>by</h4> + +<h2>Thomas Hardy</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h4>1912</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table cellpadding="2"> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td><td><a href="#P">AUTHOR'S PREFACE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top" style="width: 35%;">BOOK FIRST: </td><td>THE THREE WOMEN</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td><td><a href="#1-1">A Face on Which Time Makes But Little Impression</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td><td><a href="#1-2">Humanity Appears upon the Scene, Hand in Hand with Trouble</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td><td><a href="#1-3">The Custom of the Country</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td><td><a href="#1-4">The Halt on the Turnpike Road</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td><td><a href="#1-5">Perplexity among Honest People</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td><td><a href="#1-6">The Figure against the Sky</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td><td><a href="#1-7">Queen of Night</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td><td><a href="#1-8">Those Who Are Found Where There Is Said to Be Nobody</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td><td><a href="#1-9">Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td><td><a href="#1-10">A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td><td><a href="#1-11">The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">BOOK SECOND: </td><td>THE ARRIVAL</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td><td><a href="#2-1">Tidings of the Comer</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td><td><a href="#2-2">The People at Blooms-End Make Ready</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td><td><a href="#2-3">How a Little Sound Produced a Great Dream</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td><td><a href="#2-4">Eustacia Is Led On to an Adventure</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td><td><a href="#2-5">Through the Moonlight</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td><td><a href="#2-6">The Two Stand Face to Face</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td><td><a href="#2-7">A Coalition between Beauty and Oddness</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td><td><a href="#2-8">Firmness Is Discovered in a Gentle Heart</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">BOOK THIRD: </td><td>THE FASCINATION</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td><td><a href="#3-1">"My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td><td><a href="#3-2">The New Course Causes Disappointment</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td><td><a href="#3-3">The First Act in a Timeworn Drama</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td><td><a href="#3-4">An Hour of Bliss and Many Hours of Sadness</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td><td><a href="#3-5">Sharp Words Are Spoken, and a Crisis Ensues</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td><td><a href="#3-6">Yeobright Goes, and the Breach Is Complete</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td><td><a href="#3-7">The Morning and the Evening of a Day</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td><td><a href="#3-8">A New Force Disturbs the Current</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">BOOK FOURTH: </td><td>THE CLOSED DOOR</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td><td><a href="#4-1">The Rencounter by the Pool</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td><td><a href="#4-2">He Is Set Upon by Adversities; but He Sings a Song</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td><td><a href="#4-3">She Goes Out to Battle against Depression</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td><td><a href="#4-4">Rough Coercion Is Employed</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td><td><a href="#4-5">The Journey across the Heath</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td><td><a href="#4-6">A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td><td><a href="#4-7">The Tragic Meeting of Two Old Friends</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td><td><a href="#4-8">Eustacia Hears of Good Fortune, and Beholds Evil</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">BOOK FIFTH: </td><td>THE DISCOVERY</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td><td><a href="#5-1">"Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td><td><a href="#5-2">A Lurid Light Breaks In upon a Darkened Understanding</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td><td><a href="#5-3">Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td><td><a href="#5-4">The Ministrations of a Half-Forgotten One</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td><td><a href="#5-5">An Old Move Inadvertently Repeated</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td><td><a href="#5-6">Thomasin Argues with Her Cousin, and He Writes a Letter</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td><td><a href="#5-7">The Night of the Sixth of November</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td><td><a href="#5-8">Rain, Darkness, and Anxious Wanderers</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td><td><a href="#5-9">Sights and Sounds Draw the Wanderers Together</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">BOOK SIXTH: </td><td>AFTERCOURSES</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td><td><a href="#6-1">The Inevitable Movement Onward</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td><td><a href="#6-2">Thomasin Walks in a Green Place by the Roman Road</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td><td><a href="#6-3">The Serious Discourse of Clym with His Cousin</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td><td><a href="#6-4">Cheerfulness Again Asserts Itself at Blooms-End, and Clym Finds His Vocation</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table><tr><td> +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind5">"To sorrow</span><br /> + <span class="ind5"> I bade good morrow,</span><br /> +And thought to leave her far away behind;<br /> + <span class="ind5"> But cheerly, cheerly,</span><br /> + <span class="ind5"> She loves me dearly;</span><br /> +She is so constant to me, and so kind.<br /> + <span class="ind5"> I would deceive her,</span><br /> + <span class="ind5"> And so leave her,</span><br /> +But ah! she is so constant and so kind."</p> +</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="P"></a> </p> +<h3>AUTHOR'S PREFACE</h3> +<p> </p> + + +<p>The date at which the following events are assumed to have +occurred may be set down as between 1840 and 1850, when the old +watering-place herein called "Budmouth" still retained sufficient +afterglow from its Georgian gaiety and prestige to lend it an +absorbing attractiveness to the romantic and imaginative soul of a +lonely dweller inland.</p> + +<p>Under the general name of "Egdon Heath," which has been given +to the sombre scene of the story, are united or typified heaths of +various real names, to the number of at least a dozen; these being +virtually one in character and aspect, though their original +unity, or partial unity, is now somewhat disguised by intrusive +strips and slices brought under the plough with varying degrees of +success, or planted to woodland.</p> + +<p>It is pleasant to dream that some spot in the extensive tract +whose south-western quarter is here described, may be the heath of +that traditionary King of Wessex—Lear.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><i>July 1895</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<h3>POSTSCRIPT</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>To prevent disappointment to searchers for scenery it should +be added that though the action of the narrative is supposed to +proceed in the central and most secluded part of the heaths united +into one whole, as above described, certain topographical features +resembling those delineated really lie on the margin of the waste, +several miles to the westward of the centre. In some other respects +also there has been a bringing together of scattered +characteristics.</p> + +<p>The first edition of this novel was published in three volumes +in 1878.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><i>April 1912</i><span class="ind15">T. +H.</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="1-1"></a> </p> +<h3>BOOK FIRST</h3> +<h2>THE THREE WOMEN</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>I</h3> +<h3>A Face on Which Time Makes But Little Impression<br /> </h3> + + +<p>A Saturday afternoon in November was approaching the time of +twilight, and the vast tract of unenclosed wild known as Egdon +Heath embrowned itself moment by moment. Overhead the hollow +stretch of whitish cloud shutting out the sky was as a tent which +had the whole heath for its floor.</p> + +<p>The heaven being spread with this pallid screen and the earth with +the darkest vegetation, their meeting-line at the horizon was +clearly marked. In such contrast the heath wore the appearance of +an instalment of night which had taken up its place before its +astronomical hour was come: darkness had to a great extent arrived +hereon, while day stood distinct in the sky. Looking upwards, a +furze-cutter would have been inclined to continue work; looking +down, he would have decided to finish his faggot and go home. The +distant rims of the world and of the firmament seemed to be a +division in time no less than a division in matter. The face of +the heath by its mere complexion added half an hour to evening; it +could in like manner retard the dawn, sadden noon, anticipate the +frowning of storms scarcely generated, and intensify the opacity +of a moonless midnight to a cause of shaking and dread.</p> + +<p>In fact, precisely at this transitional point of its nightly roll +into darkness the great and particular glory of the Egdon waste +began, and nobody could be said to understand the heath who had +not been there at such a time. It could best be felt when it could +not clearly be seen, its complete effect and explanation lying in +this and the succeeding hours before the next dawn; then, and only +then, did it tell its true tale. The spot was, indeed, a near +relation of night, and when night showed itself an apparent +tendency to gravitate together could be perceived in its shades +and the scene. The sombre stretch of rounds and hollows seemed to +rise and meet the evening gloom in pure sympathy, the heath +exhaling darkness as rapidly as the heavens precipitated it. And +so the obscurity in the air and the obscurity in the land closed +together in a black fraternization towards which each advanced +half-way.</p> + +<p>The place became full of a watchful intentness now; for when other +things sank brooding to sleep the heath appeared slowly to awake +and listen. Every night its Titanic form seemed to await +something; but it had waited thus, unmoved, during so many +centuries, through the crises of so many things, that it could +only be imagined to await one last crisis—the final overthrow.</p> + +<p>It was a spot which returned upon the memory of those who loved it +with an aspect of peculiar and kindly congruity. Smiling +champaigns of flowers and fruit hardly do this, for they are +permanently harmonious only with an existence of better reputation +as to its issues than the present. Twilight combined with the +scenery of Egdon Heath to evolve a thing majestic without +severity, impressive without showiness, emphatic in its +admonitions, grand in its simplicity. The qualifications which +frequently invest the façade of a prison with far more dignity +than is found in the façade of a palace double its size lent to +this heath a sublimity in which spots renowned for beauty of the +accepted kind are utterly wanting. Fair prospects wed happily with +fair times; but alas, if times be not fair! Men have oftener +suffered from the mockery of a place too smiling for their reason +than from the oppression of surroundings oversadly tinged. Haggard +Egdon appealed to a subtler and scarcer instinct, to a more +recently learnt emotion, than that which responds to the sort of +beauty called charming and fair.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it is a question if the exclusive reign of this orthodox +beauty is not approaching its last quarter. The new Vale of Tempe +may be a gaunt waste in Thule; human souls may find themselves in +closer and closer harmony with external things wearing a +sombreness distasteful to our race when it was young. The time +seems near, if it has not actually arrived, when the chastened +sublimity of a moor, a sea, or a mountain will be all of nature +that is absolutely in keeping with the moods of the more thinking +among mankind. And ultimately, to the commonest tourist, spots +like Iceland may become what the vineyards and myrtle-gardens of +South Europe are to him now; and Heidelberg and Baden be passed +unheeded as he hastens from the Alps to the sand-dunes of +Scheveningen.</p> + +<p>The most thorough-going ascetic could feel that he had a natural +right to wander on Egdon: he was keeping within the line of +legitimate indulgence when he laid himself open to influences such +as these. Colours and beauties so far subdued were, at least, the +birthright of all. Only in summer days of highest feather did its +mood touch the level of gaiety. Intensity was more usually reached +by way of the solemn than by way of the brilliant, and such a sort +of intensity was often arrived at during winter darkness, +tempests, and mists. Then Egdon was aroused to reciprocity; for +the storm was its lover, and the wind its friend. Then it became +the home of strange phantoms; and it was found to be the hitherto +unrecognized original of those wild regions of obscurity which are +vaguely felt to be compassing us about in midnight dreams of +flight and disaster, and are never thought of after the dream till +revived by scenes like this.</p> + +<p>It was at present a place perfectly accordant with man's +nature—neither ghastly, hateful, nor ugly; neither commonplace, +unmeaning, nor tame; but, like man, slighted and enduring; and +withal singularly colossal and mysterious in its swarthy monotony. +As with some persons who have long lived apart, solitude seemed to +look out of its countenance. It had a lonely face, suggesting +tragical possibilities.</p> + +<p>This obscure, obsolete, superseded country figures in Domesday. +Its condition is recorded therein as that of heathy, furzy, briary +wilderness—"Bruaria." Then follows the length and breadth in +leagues; and, though some uncertainty exists as to the exact +extent of this ancient lineal measure, it appears from the figures +that the area of Egdon down to the present day has but little +diminished. "Turbaria Bruaria"—the right of cutting +heath-turf—occurs in charters relating to the district. +"Overgrown with heth and mosse," says Leland of the same dark +sweep of country.</p> + +<p>Here at least were intelligible facts regarding +landscape—far-reaching proofs productive of genuine satisfaction. +The untameable, Ishmaelitish thing that Egdon now was it always +had been. Civilization was its enemy; and ever since the beginning +of vegetation its soil had worn the same antique brown dress, the +natural and invariable garment of the particular formation. In its +venerable one coat lay a certain vein of satire on human vanity in +clothes. A person on a heath in raiment of modern cut and colours +has more or less an anomalous look. We seem to want the oldest and +simplest human clothing where the clothing of the earth is so +primitive.</p> + +<p>To recline on a stump of thorn in the central valley of Egdon, +between afternoon and night, as now, where the eye could reach +nothing of the world outside the summits and shoulders of +heathland which filled the whole circumference of its glance, and +to know that everything around and underneath had been from +prehistoric times as unaltered as the stars overhead, gave ballast +to the mind adrift on change, and harassed by the irrepressible +New. The great inviolate place had an ancient permanence which the +sea cannot claim. Who can say of a particular sea that it is old? +Distilled by the sun, kneaded by the moon, it is renewed in a +year, in a day, or in an hour. The sea changed, the fields +changed, the rivers, the villages, and the people changed, yet +Egdon remained. Those surfaces were neither so steep as to be +destructible by weather, nor so flat as to be the victims of +floods and deposits. With the exception of an aged highway, and a +still more aged barrow presently to be referred to—themselves +almost crystallized to natural products by long continuance—even +the trifling irregularities were not caused by pickaxe, plough, or +spade, but remained as the very finger-touches of the last +geological change.</p> + + +<p>The above-mentioned highway traversed the lower levels of the +heath, from one horizon to another. In many portions of its course +it overlaid an old vicinal way, which branched from the great +Western road of the Romans, the Via Iceniana, or Ikenild Street, +hard by. On the evening under consideration it would have been +noticed that, though the gloom had increased sufficiently to +confuse the minor features of the heath, the white surface of the +road remained almost as clear as ever.</p> + + +<p><a name="1-2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II</h3> +<h3>Humanity Appears upon the Scene,<br /> +Hand in Hand with Trouble<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Along the road walked an old man. He was white-headed as a +mountain, bowed in the shoulders, and faded in general aspect. He +wore a glazed hat, an ancient boat-cloak, and shoes; his brass +buttons bearing an anchor upon their face. In his hand was a +silver-headed walking-stick, which he used as a veritable third +leg, perseveringly dotting the ground with its point at every few +inches' interval. One would have said that he had been, in his +day, a naval officer of some sort or other.</p> + +<p>Before him stretched the long, laborious road, dry, empty, and +white. It was quite open to the heath on each side, and bisected +that vast dark surface like the parting-line on a head of black +hair, diminishing and bending away on the furthest horizon.</p> + +<p>The old man frequently stretched his eyes ahead to gaze over the +tract that he had yet to traverse. At length he discerned, a long +distance in front of him, a moving spot, which appeared to be a +vehicle, and it proved to be going the same way as that in which +he himself was journeying. It was the single atom of life that the +scene contained, and it only served to render the general +loneliness more evident. Its rate of advance was slow, and the old +man gained upon it sensibly.</p> + +<p>When he drew nearer he perceived it to be a spring van, ordinary +in shape, but singular in colour, this being a lurid red. The +driver walked beside it; and, like his van, he was completely red. +One dye of that tincture covered his clothes, the cap upon his +head, his boots, his face, and his hands. He was not temporarily +overlaid with the colour; it permeated him.</p> + +<p>The old man knew the meaning of this. The traveller with the cart +was a reddleman—a person whose vocation it was to supply farmers +with redding for their sheep. He was one of a class rapidly +becoming extinct in Wessex, filling at present in the rural world +the place which, during the last century, the dodo occupied in the +world of animals. He is a curious, interesting, and nearly +perished link between obsolete forms of life and those which +generally prevail.</p> + +<p>The decayed officer, by degrees, came up alongside his +fellow-wayfarer, and wished him good evening. The reddleman turned +his head, and replied in sad and occupied tones. He was young, and +his face, if not exactly handsome, approached so near to handsome +that nobody would have contradicted an assertion that it really +was so in its natural colour. His eye, which glared so strangely +through his stain, was in itself attractive—keen as that of a +bird of prey, and blue as autumn mist. He had neither whisker nor +moustache, which allowed the soft curves of the lower part of his +face to be apparent. His lips were thin, and though, as it seemed, +compressed by thought, there was a pleasant twitch at their +corners now and then. He was clothed throughout in a tight-fitting +suit of corduroy, excellent in quality, not much worn, and +well-chosen for its purpose, but deprived of its original colour +by his trade. It showed to advantage the good shape of his figure. +A certain well-to-do air about the man suggested that he was not +poor for his degree. The natural query of an observer would have +been, Why should such a promising being as this have hidden his +prepossessing exterior by adopting that singular occupation?</p> + +<p>After replying to the old man's greeting he showed no inclination +to continue in talk, although they still walked side by side, for +the elder traveller seemed to desire company. There were no sounds +but that of the booming wind upon the stretch of tawny herbage +around them, the crackling wheels, the tread of the men, and the +footsteps of the two shaggy ponies which drew the van. They were +small, hardy animals, of a breed between Galloway and Exmoor, and +were known as "heath-croppers" here.</p> + +<p>Now, as they thus pursued their way, the reddleman occasionally +left his companion's side, and, stepping behind the van, looked +into its interior through a small window. The look was always +anxious. He would then return to the old man, who made another +remark about the state of the country and so on, to which the +reddleman again abstractedly replied, and then again they would +lapse into silence. The silence conveyed to neither any sense of +awkwardness; in these lonely places wayfarers, after a first +greeting, frequently plod on for miles without speech; contiguity +amounts to a tacit conversation where, otherwise than in cities, +such contiguity can be put an end to on the merest inclination, +and where not to put an end to it is intercourse in itself.</p> + +<p>Possibly these two might not have spoken again till their parting, +had it not been for the reddleman's visits to his van. When he +returned from his fifth time of looking in the old man said, "You +have something inside there besides your load?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Somebody who wants looking after?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Not long after this a faint cry sounded from the interior. The +reddleman hastened to the back, looked in, and came away again.</p> + +<p>"You have a child there, my man?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I have a woman."</p> + +<p>"The deuce you have! Why did she cry out?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she has fallen asleep, and not being used to traveling, she's +uneasy, and keeps dreaming."</p> + +<p>"A young woman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a young woman."</p> + +<p>"That would have interested me forty years ago. Perhaps she's your +wife?"</p> + +<p>"My wife!" said the other bitterly. "She's above mating with such +as I. But there's no reason why I should tell you about that."</p> + +<p>"That's true. And there's no reason why you should not. What harm +can I do to you or to her?"</p> + +<p>The reddleman looked in the old man's face. "Well, sir," he said +at last, "I knew her before today, though perhaps it would have +been better if I had not. But she's nothing to me, and I am +nothing to her; and she wouldn't have been in my van if any better +carriage had been there to take her."</p> + +<p>"Where, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"At Anglebury."</p> + +<p>"I know the town well. What was she doing there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not much—to gossip about. However, she's tired to death now, +and not at all well, and that's what makes her so restless. She +dropped off into a nap about an hour ago, and 'twill do her good."</p> + +<p>"A nice-looking girl, no doubt?"</p> + +<p>"You would say so."</p> + +<p>The other traveller turned his eyes with interest towards the van +window, and, without withdrawing them, said, "I presume I might +look in upon her?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the reddleman abruptly. "It is getting too dark for you +to see much of her; and, more than that, I have no right to allow +you. Thank God she sleeps so well: I hope she won't wake till +she's home."</p> + +<p>"Who is she? One of the neighbourhood?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis no matter who, excuse me."</p> + +<p>"It is not that girl of Blooms-End, who has been talked about more +or less lately? If so, I know her; and I can guess what has +happened."</p> + +<p>"'Tis no matter… Now, sir, I am sorry to say that we shall +soon have to part company. My ponies are tired, and I have further to +go, and I am going to rest them under this bank for an hour."</p> + +<p>The elder traveller nodded his head indifferently, and the +reddleman turned his horses and van in upon the turf, saying, +"Good night." The old man replied, and proceeded on his way as +before.</p> + +<p>The reddleman watched his form as it diminished to a speck on the +road and became absorbed in the thickening films of night. He then +took some hay from a truss which was slung up under the van, and, +throwing a portion of it in front of the horses, made a pad of the +rest, which he laid on the ground beside his vehicle. Upon this he +sat down, leaning his back against the wheel. From the interior a +low soft breathing came to his ear. It appeared to satisfy him, +and he musingly surveyed the scene, as if considering the next +step that he should take.</p> + +<p>To do things musingly, and by small degrees, seemed, indeed, to be +a duty in the Egdon valleys at this transitional hour, for there +was that in the condition of the heath itself which resembled +protracted and halting dubiousness. It was the quality of the +repose appertaining to the scene. This was not the repose of +actual stagnation, but the apparent repose of incredible slowness. +A condition of healthy life so nearly resembling the torpor of +death is a noticeable thing of its sort; to exhibit the inertness +of the desert, and at the same time to be exercising powers akin +to those of the meadow, and even of the forest, awakened in those +who thought of it the attentiveness usually engendered by +understatement and reserve.</p> + + +<p>The scene before the reddleman's eyes was a gradual series of +ascents from the level of the road backward into the heart of the +heath. It embraced hillocks, pits, ridges, acclivities, one behind +the other, till all was finished by a high hill cutting against +the still light sky. The traveller's eye hovered about these +things for a time, and finally settled upon one noteworthy object +up there. It was a barrow. This bossy projection of earth above +its natural level occupied the loftiest ground of the loneliest +height that the heath contained. Although from the vale it +appeared but as a wart on an Atlantean brow, its actual bulk was +great. It formed the pole and axis of this heathery world.</p> + +<p>As the resting man looked at the barrow he became aware that its +summit, hitherto the highest object in the whole prospect round, +was surmounted by something higher. It rose from the semi-globular +mound like a spike from a helmet. The first instinct of an +imaginative stranger might have been to suppose it the person of +one of the Celts who built the barrow, so far had all of modern +date withdrawn from the scene. It seemed a sort of last man among +them, musing for a moment before dropping into eternal night with +the rest of his race.</p> + +<p>There the form stood, motionless as the hill beneath. Above the +plain rose the hill, above the hill rose the barrow, and above the +barrow rose the figure. Above the figure was nothing that could be +mapped elsewhere than on a celestial globe.</p> + +<p>Such a perfect, delicate, and necessary finish did the figure give +to the dark pile of hills that it seemed to be the only obvious +justification of their outline. Without it, there was the dome +without the lantern; with it the architectural demands of the mass +were satisfied. The scene was strangely homogeneous, in that the +vale, the upland, the barrow, and the figure above it amounted +only to unity. Looking at this or that member of the group was not +observing a complete thing, but a fraction of a thing.</p> + +<p>The form was so much like an organic part of the entire motionless +structure that to see it move would have impressed the mind as a +strange phenomenon. Immobility being the chief characteristic of +that whole which the person formed portion of, the discontinuance +of immobility in any quarter suggested confusion.</p> + +<p>Yet that is what happened. The figure perceptibly gave up its +fixity, shifted a step or two, and turned round. As if alarmed, it +descended on the right side of the barrow, with the glide of a +water-drop down a bud, and then vanished. The movement had been +sufficient to show more clearly the characteristics of the figure, +and that it was a woman's.</p> + +<p>The reason of her sudden displacement now appeared. With her +dropping out of sight on the right side, a new-comer, bearing a +burden, protruded into the sky on the left side, ascended the +tumulus, and deposited the burden on the top. A second followed, +then a third, a fourth, a fifth, and ultimately the whole barrow +was peopled with burdened figures.</p> + +<p>The only intelligible meaning in this sky-backed pantomime of +silhouettes was that the woman had no relation to the forms who +had taken her place, was sedulously avoiding these, and had come +thither for another object than theirs. The imagination of the +observer clung by preference to that vanished, solitary figure, as +to something more interesting, more important, more likely to have +a history worth knowing than these new-comers, and unconsciously +regarded them as intruders. But they remained, and established +themselves; and the lonely person who hitherto had been queen of +the solitude did not at present seem likely to return.</p> + + +<p><a name="1-3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III</h3> +<h3>The Custom of the Country<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Had a looker-on been posted in the immediate vicinity of the +barrow, he would have learned that these persons were boys and men +of the neighbouring hamlets. Each, as he ascended the barrow, had +been heavily laden with furze-faggots, carried upon the shoulder +by means of a long stake sharpened at each end for impaling them +easily—two in front and two behind. They came from a part of the +heath a quarter of a mile to the rear, where furze almost +exclusively prevailed as a product.</p> + +<p>Every individual was so involved in furze by his method of +carrying the faggots that he appeared like a bush on legs till he +had thrown them down. The party had marched in trail, like a +travelling flock of sheep; that is to say, the strongest first, +the weak and young behind.</p> + +<p>The loads were all laid together, and a pyramid of furze thirty +feet in circumference now occupied the crown of the tumulus, which +was known as Rainbarrow for many miles round. Some made themselves +busy with matches, and in selecting the driest tufts of furze, +others in loosening the bramble bonds which held the faggots +together. Others, again, while this was in progress, lifted their +eyes and swept the vast expanse of country commanded by their +position, now lying nearly obliterated by shade. In the valleys of +the heath nothing save its own wild face was visible at any time +of day; but this spot commanded a horizon enclosing a tract of far +extent, and in many cases lying beyond the heath country. None of +its features could be seen now, but the whole made itself felt as +a vague stretch of remoteness.</p> + +<p>While the men and lads were building the pile, a change took place +in the mass of shade which denoted the distant landscape. Red suns +and tufts of fire one by one began to arise, flecking the whole +country round. They were the bonfires of other parishes and +hamlets that were engaged in the same sort of commemoration. Some +were distant, and stood in a dense atmosphere, so that bundles of +pale strawlike beams radiated around them in the shape of a fan. +Some were large and near, glowing scarlet-red from the shade, like +wounds in a black hide. Some were Maenades, with winy +faces and blown hair. These tinctured the silent bosom of the +clouds above them and lit up their ephemeral caves, which seemed +thenceforth to become scalding caldrons. Perhaps as many as thirty +bonfires could be counted within the whole bounds of the district; +and as the hour may be told on a clock-face when the figures +themselves are invisible, so did the men recognize the locality of +each fire by its angle and direction, though nothing of the +scenery could be viewed.</p> + +<p>The first tall flame from Rainbarrow sprang into the sky, +attracting all eyes that had been fixed on the distant +conflagrations back to their own attempt in the same kind. The +cheerful blaze streaked the inner surface of the human circle—now +increased by other stragglers, male and female—with its own gold +livery, and even overlaid the dark turf around with a lively +luminousness, which softened off into obscurity where the barrow +rounded downwards out of sight. It showed the barrow to be the +segment of a globe, as perfect as on the day when it was thrown +up, even the little ditch remaining from which the earth was dug. +Not a plough had ever disturbed a grain of that stubborn soil. In +the heath's barrenness to the farmer lay its fertility to the +historian. There had been no obliteration, because there had been +no tending.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if the bonfire-makers were standing in some radiant +upper story of the world, detached from and independent of the +dark stretches below. The heath down there was now a vast abyss, +and no longer a continuation of what they stood on; for their +eyes, adapted to the blaze, could see nothing of the deeps beyond +its influence. Occasionally, it is true, a more vigorous flare +than usual from their faggots sent darting lights like +aides-de-camp down the inclines to some distant bush, pool, or +patch of white sand, kindling these to replies of the same colour, +till all was lost in darkness again. Then the whole black +phenomenon beneath represented Limbo as viewed from the brink by +the sublime Florentine in his vision, and the muttered +articulations of the wind in the hollows were as complaints and +petitions from the "souls of mighty worth" suspended therein.</p> + +<p>It was as if these men and boys had suddenly dived into past ages, +and fetched therefrom an hour and deed which had before been +familiar with this spot. The ashes of the original British pyre +which blazed from that summit lay fresh and undisturbed in the +barrow beneath their tread. The flames from funeral piles long ago +kindled there had shone down upon the lowlands as these were +shining now. Festival fires to Thor and Woden had followed on the +same ground and duly had their day. Indeed, it is pretty well +known that such blazes as this the heathmen were now enjoying are +rather the lineal descendants from jumbled Druidical rites and +Saxon ceremonies than the invention of popular feeling about +Gunpowder Plot.</p> + +<p>Moreover to light a fire is the instinctive and resistant act of +man when, at the winter ingress, the curfew is sounded throughout +Nature. It indicates a spontaneous, Promethean rebelliousness +against that fiat that this recurrent season shall bring foul +times, cold darkness, misery and death. Black chaos comes, and the +fettered gods of the earth say, Let there be light.</p> + +<p>The brilliant lights and sooty shades which struggled upon the +skin and clothes of the persons standing round caused their +lineaments and general contours to be drawn with Dureresque vigour +and dash. Yet the permanent moral expression of each face it was +impossible to discover, for as the nimble flames towered, nodded, +and swooped through the surrounding air, the blots of shade and +flakes of light upon the countenances of the group changed shape +and position endlessly. All was unstable; quivering as leaves, +evanescent as lightning. Shadowy eye-sockets, deep as those of a +death's head, suddenly turned into pits of lustre: a lantern-jaw +was cavernous, then it was shining; wrinkles were emphasized to +ravines, or obliterated entirely by a changed ray. Nostrils were +dark wells; sinews in old necks were gilt mouldings; things with +no particular polish on them were glazed; bright objects, such as +the tip of a furze-hook one of the men carried, were as glass; +eyeballs glowed like little lanterns. Those whom Nature had +depicted as merely quaint became grotesque, the grotesque became +preternatural; for all was in extremity.</p> + +<p>Hence it may be that the face of an old man, who had like others +been called to the heights by the rising flames, was not really +the mere nose and chin that it appeared to be, but an appreciable +quantity of human countenance. He stood complacently sunning +himself in the heat. With a speaker, or stake, he tossed the +outlying scraps of fuel into the conflagration, looking at the +midst of the pile, occasionally lifting his eyes to measure the +height of the flame, or to follow the great sparks which rose with +it and sailed away into darkness. The beaming sight, and the +penetrating warmth, seemed to breed in him a cumulative +cheerfulness, which soon amounted to delight. With his stick in +his hand he began to jig a private minuet, a bunch of copper seals +shining and swinging like a pendulum from under his waistcoat: he +also began to sing, in the voice of a bee up a flue—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"The king´ call'd down´ his no-bles all´,<br /> + <span class="ind2">By one´, by two´, by three´;</span><br /> + Earl Mar´-shal, I'll´ go shrive´-the queen´,<br /> + <span class="ind2">And thou´ shalt wend´ with me´.</span><br /> + <br /> + "A boon´, a boon´, quoth Earl´ Mar-shal´,<br /> + <span class="ind2">And fell´ on his bend´-ded knee´,</span><br /> + That what´-so-e'er´ the queen´ shall say´,<br /> + <span class="ind2">No harm´ there-of´ may be´."</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>Want of breath prevented a continuance of the song; and the +breakdown attracted the attention of a firm-standing man of middle +age, who kept each corner of his crescent-shaped mouth rigorously +drawn back into his cheek, as if to do away with any suspicion of +mirthfulness which might erroneously have attached to him.</p> + +<p>"A fair stave, Grandfer Cantle; but I am afeard 'tis too much for +the mouldy weasand of such a old man as you," he said to the +wrinkled reveller. "Dostn't wish th' wast three sixes again, +Grandfer, as you was when you first learnt to sing it?"</p> + +<p>"Hey?" said Grandfer Cantle, stopping in his dance.</p> + +<p>"Dostn't wish wast young again, I say? There's a hole in thy poor +bellows nowadays seemingly."</p> + +<p>"But there's good art in me? If I couldn't make a little wind go a +long ways I should seem no younger than the most aged man, should +I, Timothy?"</p> + +<p>"And how about the new-married folks down there at the Quiet Woman +Inn?" the other inquired, pointing towards a dim light in the +direction of the distant highway, but considerably apart from +where the reddleman was at that moment resting. "What's the rights +of the matter about 'em? You ought to know, being an understanding +man."</p> + +<p>"But a little rakish, hey? I own to it. Master Cantle is that, or +he's nothing. Yet 'tis a gay fault, neighbour Fairway, that age +will cure."</p> + +<p>"I heard that they were coming home to-night. By this time they +must have come. What besides?"</p> + +<p>"The next thing is for us to go and wish 'em joy, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no."</p> + +<p>"No? Now, I thought we must. <i>I</i> must, or 'twould be very +unlike me—the first in every spree that's going!<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Do thou´ put on´ a fri´-ar's coat´,<br /> +<span class="ind2">And I'll´ put on´ a-no´-ther,</span><br /> + And we´ will to´ Queen Ele´anor go´,<br /> +<span class="ind2">Like Fri´ar and´ his bro´ther.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"I met Mis'ess Yeobright, the young bride's aunt, last night, and +she told me that her son Clym was coming home a' Christmas. +Wonderful clever, 'a believe—ah, I should like to have all that's +under that young man's hair. Well, then, I spoke to her in my +well-known merry way, and she said, 'O that what's shaped so +venerable should talk like a fool!'—that's what she said to me. I +don't care for her, be jowned if I do, and so I told her. 'Be +jowned if I care for 'ee,' I said. I had her there—hey?"</p> + +<p>"I rather think she had you," said Fairway.</p> + +<p>"No," said Grandfer Cantle, his countenance slightly flagging. +"'Tisn't so bad as that with me?"</p> + +<p>"Seemingly 'tis; however, is it because of the wedding that Clym +is coming home a' Christmas—to make a new arrangement because his +mother is now left in the house alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—that's it. But, Timothy, hearken to me," said the +Grandfer earnestly. "Though known as such a joker, I be an +understanding man if you catch me serious, and I am serious now. I +can tell 'ee lots about the married couple. Yes, this morning at +six o'clock they went up the country to do the job, and neither +vell nor mark have been seen of 'em since, though I reckon that +this afternoon has brought 'em home again man and woman—wife, +that is. Isn't it spoke like a man, Timothy, and wasn't Mis'ess +Yeobright wrong about me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will do. I didn't know the two had walked together since +last fall, when her aunt forbad the banns. How long has this new +set-to been mangling then? Do you know, Humphrey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, how long?" said Grandfer Cantle smartly, likewise turning to +Humphrey. "I ask that question."</p> + +<p>"Ever since her aunt altered her mind, and said she might have the +man after all," replied Humphrey, without removing his eyes from +the fire. He was a somewhat solemn young fellow, and carried the +hook and leather gloves of a furze-cutter, his legs, by reason of +that occupation, being sheathed in bulging leggings as stiff as +the Philistine's greaves of brass. "That's why they went away to +be married, I count. You see, after kicking up such a nunny-watch +and forbidding the banns 'twould have made Mis'ess Yeobright seem +foolish-like to have a banging wedding in the same parish all as +if she'd never gainsaid it."</p> + +<p>"Exactly—seem foolish-like; and that's very bad for the poor +things that be so, though I only guess as much, to be sure," said +Grandfer Cantle, still strenuously preserving a sensible bearing +and mien.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, I was at church that day," said Fairway, "which was a +very curious thing to happen."</p> + +<p>"If 'twasn't my name's Simple," said the Grandfer emphatically. "I +ha'n't been there to-year; and now the winter is a-coming on I +won't say I shall."</p> + +<p>"I ha'n't been these three years," said Humphrey; "for I'm so dead +sleepy of a Sunday; and 'tis so terrible far to get there; and +when you do get there 'tis such a mortal poor chance that you'll +be chose for up above, when so many bain't, that I bide at home +and don't go at all."</p> + +<p>"I not only happened to be there," said Fairway, with a fresh +collection of emphasis, "but I was sitting in the same pew as +Mis'ess Yeobright. And though you may not see it as such, it +fairly made my blood run cold to hear her. Yes, it is a curious +thing; but it made my blood run cold, for I was close at her +elbow." The speaker looked round upon the bystanders, now drawing +closer to hear him, with his lips gathered tighter than ever in +the rigorousness of his descriptive moderation.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a serious job to have things happen to 'ee there," said a +woman behind.</p> + +<p>"'Ye are to declare it,' was the parson's words," Fairway +continued. "And then up stood a woman at my side—a-touching of +me. 'Well, be damned if there isn't Mis'ess Yeobright a-standing +up,' I said to myself. Yes, neighbours, though I was in the temple +of prayer that's what I said. 'Tis against my conscience to curse +and swear in company, and I hope any woman here will overlook it. +Still what I did say I did say, and 'twould be a lie if I didn't +own it."</p> + +<p>"So 'twould, neighbour Fairway."</p> + +<p>"'Be damned if there isn't Mis'ess Yeobright a-standing up,' I +said," the narrator repeated, giving out the bad word with the +same passionless severity of face as before, which proved how +entirely necessity and not gusto had to do with the iteration. +"And the next thing I heard was, 'I forbid the banns,' from her. +'I'll speak to you after the service,' said the parson, in quite a +homely way—yes, turning all at once into a common man no holier +than you or I. Ah, her face was pale! Maybe you can call to mind +that monument in Weatherbury church—the cross-legged soldier that +have had his arm knocked away by the school-children? Well, he +would about have matched that woman's face, when she said, 'I +forbid the banns.'"</p> + +<p>The audience cleared their throats and tossed a few stalks into +the fire, not because these deeds were urgent, but to give +themselves time to weigh the moral of the story.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure when I heard they'd been forbid I felt as glad as if +anybody had gied me sixpence," said an earnest voice—that of Olly +Dowden, a woman who lived by making heath brooms, or besoms. Her +nature was to be civil to enemies as well as to friends, and +grateful to all the world for letting her remain alive.</p> + +<p>"And now the maid have married him just the same," said Humphrey.</p> + +<p>"After that Mis'ess Yeobright came round and was quite agreeable," +Fairway resumed, with an unheeding air, to show that his words +were no appendage to Humphrey's, but the result of independent +reflection.</p> + +<p>"Supposing they were ashamed, I don't see why they shouldn't have +done it here-right," said a wide-spread woman whose stays creaked +like shoes whenever she stooped or turned. "'Tis well to call the +neighbours together and to hae a good racket once now and then; +and it may as well be when there's a wedding as at tide-times. I +don't care for close ways."</p> + +<p>"Ah, now, you'd hardly believe it, but I don't care for gay +weddings," said Timothy Fairway, his eyes again travelling round. +"I hardly blame Thomasin Yeobright and neighbour Wildeve for doing +it quiet, if I must own it. A wedding at home means five and +six-handed reels by the hour; and they do a man's legs no good +when he's over forty."</p> + +<p>"True. Once at the woman's house you can hardly say nay to being +one in a jig, knowing all the time that you be expected to make +yourself worth your victuals."</p> + +<p>"You be bound to dance at Christmas because 'tis the time o' year; +you must dance at weddings because 'tis the time o' life. At +christenings folk will even smuggle in a reel or two, if 'tis no +further on than the first or second chiel. And this is not naming +the songs you've got to sing… For my part I like a good hearty +funeral as well as anything. You've as splendid victuals and drink +as at other parties, and even better. And it don't wear your legs +to stumps in talking over a poor fellow's ways as it do to stand +up in hornpipes."</p> + +<p>"Nine folks out of ten would own 'twas going too far to dance +then, I suppose?" suggested Grandfer Cantle.</p> + +<p>"'Tis the only sort of party a staid man can feel safe at after +the mug have been round a few times."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't understand a quiet lady-like little body like +Tamsin Yeobright caring to be married in such a mean way," said Susan +Nunsuch, the wide woman, who preferred the original subject. "'Tis +worse than the poorest do. And I shouldn't have cared about the +man, though some may say he's good-looking."</p> + +<p>"To give him his due he's a clever, learned fellow in his +way—a'most as clever as Clym Yeobright used to be. He was brought +up to better things than keeping the Quiet Woman. An +engineer—that's what the man was, as we know; but he threw away +his chance, and so 'a took a public house to live. His learning +was no use to him at all."</p> + +<p>"Very often the case," said Olly, the besom-maker. "And yet how +people do strive after it and get it! The class of folk that +couldn't use to make a round O to save their bones from the pit +can write their names now without a sputter of the pen, oftentimes +without a single blot: what do I say?—why, almost without a desk +to lean their stomachs and elbows upon."</p> + +<p>"True: 'tis amazing what a polish the world have been brought to," +said Humphrey.</p> + +<p>"Why, afore I went a soldier in the Bang-up Locals (as we was +called), in the year four," chimed in Grandfer Cantle brightly, "I +didn't know no more what the world was like than the commonest man +among ye. And now, jown it all, I won't say what I bain't fit for, +hey?"</p> + +<p>"Couldst sign the book, no doubt," said Fairway, "if wast young +enough to join hands with a woman again, like Wildeve and Mis'ess +Tamsin, which is more than Humph there could do, for he follows +his father in learning. Ah, Humph, well I can mind when I was +married how I zid thy father's mark staring me in the face as I +went to put down my name. He and your mother were the couple +married just afore we were and there stood they father's cross +with arms stretched out like a great banging scarecrow. What a +terrible black cross that was—thy father's very likeness in en! +To save my soul I couldn't help laughing when I zid en, though all +the time I was as hot as dog-days, what with the marrying, and +what with the woman a-hanging to me, and what with Jack Changley +and a lot more chaps grinning at me through church window. But the +next moment a strawmote would have knocked me down, for I called +to mind that if thy father and mother had had high words once, +they'd been at it twenty times since they'd been man and wife, and +I zid myself as the next poor stunpoll to get into the same +mess… Ah—well, what a day 'twas!"</p> + +<p>"Wildeve is older than Tamsin Yeobright by a goodfew summers. A +pretty maid too she is. A young woman with a home must be a fool +to tear her smock for a man like that."</p> + +<p>The speaker, a peat or turf-cutter, who had newly joined the +group, carried across his shoulder the singular heart-shaped spade +of large dimensions used in that species of labour; and its +well-whetted edge gleamed like a silver bow in the beams of the +fire.</p> + +<p>"A hundred maidens would have had him if he'd asked 'em," said the +wide woman.</p> + +<p>"Didst ever know a man, neighbour, that no woman at all would +marry?" inquired Humphrey.</p> + +<p>"I never did," said the turf-cutter.</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said another.</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said Grandfer Cantle.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I did once," said Timothy Fairway, adding more +firmness to one of his legs. "I did know of such a man. But only +once, mind." He gave his throat a thorough rake round, as if it +were the duty of every person not to be mistaken through thickness +of voice. "Yes, I knew of such a man," he said.</p> + +<p>"And what ghastly gallicrow might the poor fellow have been like, +Master Fairway?" asked the turf-cutter.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'a was neither a deaf man, nor a dumb man, nor a blind man. +What 'a was I don't say."</p> + +<p>"Is he known in these parts?" said Olly Dowden.</p> + +<p>"Hardly," said Timothy; "but I name no name… Come, keep the +fire up there, youngsters."</p> + +<p>"Whatever is Christian Cantle's teeth a-chattering for?" said a +boy from amid the smoke and shades on the other side of the blaze. +"Be ye a-cold, Christian?"</p> + +<p>A thin jibbering voice was heard to reply, "No, not at all."</p> + +<p>"Come forward, Christian, and show yourself. I didn't know you +were here," said Fairway, with a humane look across towards that +quarter.</p> + +<p>Thus requested, a faltering man, with reedy hair, no shoulders, +and a great quantity of wrist and ankle beyond his clothes, +advanced a step or two by his own will, and was pushed by the will +of others half a dozen steps more. He was Grandfer Cantle's +youngest son.</p> + +<p>"What be ye quaking for, Christian?" said the turf-cutter kindly.</p> + +<p>"I'm the man."</p> + +<p>"What man?"</p> + +<p>"The man no woman will marry."</p> + +<p>"The deuce you be!" said Timothy Fairway, enlarging his gaze to +cover Christian's whole surface and a great deal more; Grandfer +Cantle meanwhile staring as a hen stares at the duck she has +hatched.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I be he; and it makes me afeard," said Christian. "D'ye +think 'twill hurt me? I shall always say I don't care, and swear +to it, though I do care all the while."</p> + +<p>"Well, be damned if this isn't the queerest start ever I know'd," +said Mr. Fairway. "I didn't mean you at all. There's another in +the country, then! Why did ye reveal yer misfortune, Christian?"</p> + +<p>"'Twas to be if 'twas, I suppose. I can't help it, can I?" He +turned upon them his painfully circular eyes, surrounded by +concentric lines like targets.</p> + +<p>"No, that's true. But 'tis a melancholy thing, and my blood ran +cold when you spoke, for I felt there were two poor fellows where +I had thought only one. 'Tis a sad thing for ye, Christian. How'st +know the women won't hae thee?"</p> + +<p>"I've asked 'em."</p> + +<p>"Sure I should never have thought you had the face. Well, and what +did the last one say to ye? Nothing that can't be got over, +perhaps, after all?"</p> + +<p>"'Get out of my sight, you slack-twisted, slim-looking maphrotight +fool,' was the woman's words to me."</p> + +<p>"Not encouraging, I own," said Fairway. "'Get out of my sight, you +slack-twisted, slim-looking maphrotight fool,' is rather a hard +way of saying No. But even that might be overcome by time and +patience, so as to let a few grey hairs show themselves in the +hussy's head. How old be you, Christian?"</p> + +<p>"Thirty-one last tatie-digging, Mister Fairway."</p> + +<p>"Not a boy—not a boy. Still there's hope yet."</p> + +<p>"That's my age by baptism, because that's put down in the great +book of the Judgment that they keep in church vestry; but mother +told me I was born some time afore I was christened."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"But she couldn't tell when, to save her life, except that there +was no moon."</p> + +<p>"No moon: that's bad. Hey, neighbours, that's bad for him!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'tis bad," said Grandfer Cantle, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"Mother know'd 'twas no moon, for she asked another woman that had +an almanac, as she did whenever a boy was born to her, because of +the saying, 'No moon, no man,' which made her afeard every +man-child she had. Do ye really think it serious, Mister Fairway, +that there was no moon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; 'No moon, no man.' 'Tis one of the truest sayings ever spit +out. The boy never comes to anything that's born at new moon. A +bad job for thee, Christian, that you should have showed your nose +then of all days in the month."</p> + +<p>"I suppose the moon was terrible full when you were born?" said +Christian, with a look of hopeless admiration at Fairway.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'a was not new," Mr. Fairway replied, with a disinterested +gaze.</p> + +<p>"I'd sooner go without drink at Lammas-tide than be a man of no +moon," continued Christian, in the same shattered recitative. +"'Tis said I be only the rames of a man, and no good for my race +at all; and I suppose that's the cause o't."</p> + +<p>"Ay," said Grandfer Cantle, somewhat subdued in spirit; "and yet +his mother cried for scores of hours when 'a was a boy, for fear +he should outgrow hisself and go for a soldier."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's many just as bad as he." said Fairway. "Wethers +must live their time as well as other sheep, poor soul."</p> + +<p>"So perhaps I shall rub on? Ought I to be afeared o' nights, +Master Fairway?"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to lie alone all your life; and 'tis not to married +couples but to single sleepers that a ghost shows himself when 'a +do come. One has been seen lately, too. A very strange one."</p> + +<p>"No—don't talk about it if 'tis agreeable of ye not to! 'Twill +make my skin crawl when I think of it in bed alone. But you +will—ah, you will, I know, Timothy; and I shall dream all night +o't! A very strange one? What sort of a spirit did ye mean when ye +said, a very strange one, Timothy?—no, no—don't tell me."</p> + +<p>"I don't half believe in spirits myself. But I think it ghostly +enough—what I was told. 'Twas a little boy that zid it."</p> + +<p>"What was it like?—no, don't—"</p> + +<p>"A red one. Yes, most ghosts be white; but this is as if it had +been dipped in blood."</p> + +<p>Christian drew a deep breath without letting it expand his body, +and Humphrey said, "Where has it been seen?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly here; but in this same heth. But 'tisn't a thing to +talk about. What do ye say," continued Fairway in brisker tones, +and turning upon them as if the idea had not been Grandfer +Cantle's—"what do you say to giving the new man and wife a bit of +a song to-night afore we go to bed—being their wedding-day? When +folks are just married 'tis as well to look glad o't, since +looking sorry won't unjoin 'em. I am no drinker, as we know, but +when the womenfolk and youngsters have gone home we can drop down +across to the Quiet Woman, and strike up a ballet in front of the +married folks' door. 'Twill please the young wife, and that's what +I should like to do, for many's the skinful I've had at her hands +when she lived with her aunt at Blooms-End."</p> + +<p>"Hey? And so we will!" said Grandfer Cantle, turning so briskly +that his copper seals swung extravagantly. "I'm as dry as a kex +with biding up here in the wind, and I haven't seen the colour of +drink since nammet-time today. 'Tis said that the last brew at the +Woman is very pretty drinking. And, neighbours, if we should be a +little late in the finishing, why, tomorrow's Sunday, and we can +sleep it off?"</p> + +<p>"Grandfer Cantle! you take things very careless for an old man," +said the wide woman.</p> + +<p>"I take things careless; I do—too careless to please the women! +Klk! I'll sing the 'Jovial Crew,' or any other song, when a weak +old man would cry his eyes out. Jown it; I am up for +anything.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"The king´ look'd o´ver his left´ shoul-der´,<br /> +<span class="ind2">And a grim´ look look´-ed hee´,</span><br /> + Earl Mar´-shal, he said´, but for´ my oath´<br /> +<span class="ind2">Or hang´-ed thou´ shouldst bee´."</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Well, that's what we'll do," said Fairway. "We'll give 'em a +song, an' it please the Lord. What's the good of Thomasin's cousin +Clym a-coming home after the deed's done? He should have come +afore, if so be he wanted to stop it, and marry her himself."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he's coming to bide with his mother a little time, as she +must feel lonely now the maid's gone."</p> + +<p>"Now, 'tis very odd, but I never feel lonely—no, not at all," +said Grandfer Cantle. "I am as brave in the night-time as a' +admiral!"</p> + +<p>The bonfire was by this time beginning to sink low, for the fuel +had not been of that substantial sort which can support a blaze +long. Most of the other fires within the wide horizon were also +dwindling weak. Attentive observation of their brightness, colour, +and length of existence would have revealed the quality of the +material burnt, and through that, to some extent the natural +produce of the district in which each bonfire was situate. The +clear, kingly effulgence that had characterized the majority +expressed a heath and furze country like their own, which in one +direction extended an unlimited number of miles; the rapid flares +and extinctions at other points of the compass showed the lightest +of fuel—straw, beanstalks, and the usual waste from arable land. +The most enduring of all—steady unaltering eyes like +Planets—signified wood, such as hazel-branches, thorn-faggots, +and stout billets. Fires of the last-mentioned materials were +rare, and though comparatively small in magnitude beside the +transient blazes, now began to get the best of them by mere long +continuance. The great ones had perished, but these remained. They +occupied the remotest visible positions—sky-backed summits rising +out of rich coppice and plantation districts to the north, where +the soil was different, and heath foreign and strange.</p> + +<p>Save one; and this was the nearest of any, the moon of the whole +shining throng. It lay in a direction precisely opposite to that +of the little window in the vale below. Its nearness was such +that, notwithstanding its actual smallness, its glow infinitely +transcended theirs.</p> + +<p>This quiet eye had attracted attention from time to time; and when +their own fire had become sunken and dim it attracted more; some +even of the wood fires more recently lighted had reached their +decline, but no change was perceptible here.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, how near that fire is!" said Fairway. "Seemingly. I +can see a fellow of some sort walking round it. Little and good +must be said of that fire, surely."</p> + +<p>"I can throw a stone there," said the boy.</p> + +<p>"And so can I!" said Grandfer Cantle.</p> + +<p>"No, no, you can't, my sonnies. That fire is not much less than a +mile off, for all that 'a seems so near."</p> + +<p>"'Tis in the heath, but not furze," said the turf-cutter.</p> + +<p>"'Tis cleft-wood, that's what 'tis," said Timothy Fairway. +"Nothing would burn like that except clean timber. And 'tis on the +knap afore the old captain's house at Mistover. Such a queer +mortal as that man is! To have a little fire inside your own bank +and ditch, that nobody else may enjoy it or come anigh it! And +what a zany an old chap must be, to light a bonfire when there's +no youngsters to please."</p> + +<p>"Cap'n Vye has been for a long walk to-day, and is quite tired +out," said Grandfer Cantle, "so 'tisn't likely to be he."</p> + +<p>"And he would hardly afford good fuel like that," said the wide +woman.</p> + +<p>"Then it must be his grand-daughter," said Fairway. "Not that a +body of her age can want a fire much."</p> + +<p>"She is very strange in her ways, living up there by herself, and +such things please her," said Susan.</p> + +<p>"She's a well-favoured maid enough," said Humphrey the +furze-cutter; "especially when she's got one of her dandy gowns +on."</p> + +<p>"That's true," said Fairway. "Well, let her bonfire burn an't +will. Ours is well-nigh out by the look o't."</p> + +<p>"How dark 'tis now the fire's gone down!" said Christian Cantle, +looking behind him with his hare eyes. "Don't ye think we'd better +get home-along, neighbours? The heth isn't haunted, I know; but +we'd better get home… Ah, what was that?"</p> + +<p>"Only the wind," said the turf-cutter.</p> + +<p>"I don't think Fifth-of-Novembers ought to be kept up by night +except in towns. It should be by day in outstep, ill-accounted +places like this!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Christian. Lift up your spirits like a man! Susy, dear, +you and I will have a jig—hey, my honey?—before 'tis quite too +dark to see how well-favoured you be still, though so many summers +have passed since your husband, a son of a witch, snapped you up +from me."</p> + +<p>This was addressed to Susan Nunsuch; and the next circumstance of +which the beholders were conscious was a vision of the matron's +broad form whisking off towards the space whereon the fire had +been kindled. She was lifted bodily by Mr. Fairway's arm, which +had been flung round her waist before she had become aware of his +intention. The site of the fire was now merely a circle of ashes +flecked with red embers and sparks, the furze having burnt +completely away. Once within the circle he whirled her round and +round in a dance. She was a woman noisily constructed; in addition +to her enclosing framework of whalebone and lath, she wore pattens +summer and winter, in wet weather and in dry, to preserve her +boots from wear; and when Fairway began to jump about with her, +the clicking of the pattens, the creaking of the stays, and her +screams of surprise, formed a very audible concert.</p> + +<p>"I'll crack thy numskull for thee, you mandy chap!" said Mrs. +Nunsuch, as she helplessly danced round with him, her feet playing +like drumsticks among the sparks. "My ankles were all in a fever +before, from walking through that prickly furze, and now you must +make 'em worse with these vlankers!"</p> + +<p>The vagary of Timothy Fairway was infectious. The turf-cutter +seized old Olly Dowden, and, somewhat more gently, poussetted with +her likewise. The young men were not slow to imitate the example +of their elders, and seized the maids; Grandfer Cantle and his +stick jigged in the form of a three-legged object among the rest; +and in half a minute all that could be seen on Rainbarrow was a +whirling of dark shapes amid a boiling confusion of sparks, which +leapt around the dancers as high as their waists. The chief noises +were women's shrill cries, men's laughter, Susan's stays and +pattens, Olly Dowden's "heu-heu-heu!" and the strumming of the +wind upon the furze-bushes, which formed a kind of tune to the +demoniac measure they trod. Christian alone stood aloof, uneasily +rocking himself as he murmured, "They ought not to do it—how the +vlankers do fly! 'tis tempting the Wicked one, 'tis."</p> + +<p>"What was that?" said one of the lads, stopping.</p> + +<p>"Ah—where?" said Christian, hastily closing up to the rest.</p> + +<p>The dancers all lessened their speed.</p> + +<p>"'Twas behind you, Christian, that I heard it—down there."</p> + +<p>"Yes—'tis behind me!" Christian said. "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and +John, bless the bed that I lie on; four angels guard—"</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue. What is it?" said Fairway.</p> + +<p>"Hoi-i-i-i!" cried a voice from the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Halloo-o-o-o!" said Fairway.</p> + +<p>"Is there any cart track up across here to Mis'ess Yeobright's, of +Blooms-End?" came to them in the same voice, as a long, slim +indistinct figure approached the barrow.</p> + +<p>"Ought we not to run home as hard as we can, neighbours, as 'tis +getting late?" said Christian. "Not run away from one another, you +know; run close together, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Scrape up a few stray locks of +furze, and make a blaze, so that we can see who the man is," said +Fairway.</p> + +<p>When the flame arose it revealed a young man in tight raiment, and +red from top to toe. "Is there a track across here to Mis'ess +Yeobright's house?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Ay—keep along the path down there."</p> + +<p>"I mean a way two horses and a van can travel over?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; you can get up the vale below here with time. The +track is rough, but if you've got a light your horses may pick +along wi' care. Have ye brought your cart far up, neighbour +reddleman?"</p> + +<p>"I've left it in the bottom, about half a mile back. I stepped on +in front to make sure of the way, as 'tis night-time, and I han't +been here for so long."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you can get up," said Fairway. "What a turn it did give +me when I saw him!" he added to the whole group, the reddleman +included. "Lord's sake, I thought, whatever fiery +mommet is this come to trouble us? No slight to your +looks, reddleman, for ye bain't bad-looking in the groundwork, +though the finish is queer. My meaning is just to say how curious +I felt. I half thought it 'twas the devil or the red ghost the boy +told of."</p> + +<p>"It gied me a turn likewise," said Susan Nunsuch, "for I had a +dream last night of a death's head."</p> + +<p>"Don't ye talk o't no more," said Christian. "If he had +handkerchief over his head he'd look for all the world like the +Devil in the picture of the Temptation."</p> + +<p>"Well, thank you for telling me," said the young reddleman, +smiling faintly. "And good night t'ye all."</p> + +<p>He withdrew from their sight down the barrow.</p> + +<p>"I fancy I've seen that young man's face before," said Humphrey. +"But where, or how, or what his name is, I don't know."</p> + +<p>The reddleman had not been gone more than a few minutes when +another person approached the partially revived bonfire. It proved +to be a well-known and respected widow of the neighbourhood, of a +standing which can only be expressed by the word genteel. Her +face, encompassed by the blackness of the receding heath, showed +whitely, and without half-lights, like a cameo.</p> + +<p>She was a woman of middle-age, with well-formed features of the +type usually found where perspicacity is the chief quality +enthroned within. At moments she seemed to be regarding issues +from a Nebo denied to others around. She had something of an +estranged mien; the solitude exhaled from the heath was +concentrated in this face that had risen from it. The air with +which she looked at the heathmen betokened a certain unconcern at +their presence, or at what might be their opinions of her for +walking in that lonely spot at such an hour, this indirectly +implying that in some respect or other they were not up to her +level. The explanation lay in the fact that though her husband had +been a small farmer she herself was a curate's daughter, who had +once dreamt of doing better things.</p> + +<p>Persons with any weight of character carry, like planets, their +atmospheres along with them in their orbits; and the matron who +entered now upon the scene could, and usually did, bring her own +tone into a company. Her normal manner among the heathfolk had +that reticence which results from the consciousness of superior +communicative power. But the effect of coming into society and +light after lonely wandering in darkness is a sociability in the +comer above its usual pitch, expressed in the features even more +than in words.</p> + +<p>"Why, 'tis Mis'ess Yeobright," said Fairway. "Mis'ess Yeobright, +not ten minutes ago a man was here asking for you—a reddleman."</p> + +<p>"What did he want?" said she.</p> + +<p>"He didn't tell us."</p> + +<p>"Something to sell, I suppose; what it can be I am at a loss to +understand."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear that your son Mr. Clym is coming home at +Christmas, ma'am," said Sam, the turf-cutter. "What a dog he used +to be for bonfires!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I believe he is coming," she said.</p> + +<p>"He must be a fine fellow by this time," said Fairway.</p> + +<p>"He is a man now," she replied quietly.</p> + +<p>"'Tis very lonesome for 'ee in the heth tonight, mis'ess," said +Christian, coming from the seclusion he had hitherto maintained. +"Mind you don't get lost. Egdon Heth is a bad place to get lost +in, and the winds do huffle queerer tonight than ever I heard 'em +afore. Them that know Egdon best have been pixy-led here at +times."</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Christian?" said Mrs. Yeobright. "What made you hide +away from me?"</p> + +<p>"'Twas that I didn't know you in this light, mis'ess; and being a +man of the mournfullest make, I was scared a little, that's all. +Oftentimes if you could see how terrible down I get in my mind, +'twould make 'ee quite nervous for fear I should die by my hand."</p> + +<p>"You don't take after your father," said Mrs. Yeobright, looking +towards the fire, where Grandfer Cantle, with some want of +originality, was dancing by himself among the sparks, as the +others had done before.</p> + +<p>"Now, Grandfer," said Timothy Fairway, "we are ashamed of ye. A +reverent old patriarch man as you be—seventy if a day—to go +hornpiping like that by yourself!"</p> + +<p>"A harrowing old man, Mis'ess Yeobright," said Christian +despondingly. "I wouldn't live with him a week, so playward as he +is, if I could get away."</p> + +<p>"'Twould be more seemly in ye to stand still and welcome Mis'ess +Yeobright, and you the venerablest here, Grandfer Cantle," said +the besom-woman.</p> + +<p>"Faith, and so it would," said the reveller checking himself +repentantly. "I've such a bad memory, Mis'ess Yeobright, that I +forget how I'm looked up to by the rest of 'em. My spirits must be +wonderful good, you'll say? But not always. 'Tis a weight upon a +man to be looked up to as commander, and I often feel it."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to stop the talk," said Mrs. Yeobright. "But I must be +leaving you now. I was passing down the Anglebury Road, towards my +niece's new home, who is returning tonight with her husband; and +seeing the bonfire and hearing Olly's voice among the rest I came +up here to learn what was going on. I should like her to walk with +me, as her way is mine."</p> + +<p>"Ay, sure, ma'am, I'm just thinking of moving," said Olly.</p> + +<p>"Why, you'll be safe to meet the reddleman that I told ye of," +said Fairway. "He's only gone back to get his van. We heard that +your niece and her husband were coming straight home as soon as +they were married, and we are going down there shortly, to give +'em a song o' welcome."</p> + +<p>"Thank you indeed," said Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"But we shall take a shorter cut through the furze than you can go +with long clothes; so we won't trouble you to wait."</p> + +<p>"Very well—are you ready, Olly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. And there's a light shining from your niece's window, +see. It will help to keep us in the path."</p> + +<p>She indicated the faint light at the bottom of the valley which +Fairway had pointed out; and the two women descended the tumulus.</p> + + +<p><a name="1-4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<h3>The Halt on the Turnpike Road<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Down, downward they went, and yet further down—their descent at +each step seeming to outmeasure their advance. Their skirts were +scratched noisily by the furze, their shoulders brushed by the +ferns, which, though dead and dry, stood erect as when alive, no +sufficient winter weather having as yet arrived to beat them down. +Their Tartarean situation might by some have been called an +imprudent one for two unattended women. But these shaggy recesses +were at all seasons a familiar surrounding to Olly and Mrs. +Yeobright; and the addition of darkness lends no frightfulness to +the face of a friend.</p> + +<p>"And so Tamsin has married him at last," said Olly, when the +incline had become so much less steep that their footsteps no +longer required undivided attention.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright answered slowly, "Yes: at last."</p> + +<p>"How you will miss her—living with 'ee as a daughter, as she +always have."</p> + +<p>"I do miss her."</p> + +<p>Olly, though without the tact to perceive when remarks were +untimely, was saved by her very simplicity from rendering them +offensive. Questions that would have been resented in others she +could ask with impunity. This accounted for Mrs. Yeobright's +acquiescence in the revival of an evidently sore subject.</p> + +<p>"I was quite strook to hear you'd agreed to it, ma'am, that I +was," continued the besom-maker.</p> + +<p>"You were not more struck by it than I should have been last year +this time, Olly. There are a good many sides to that wedding. I +could not tell you all of them, even if I tried."</p> + +<p>"I felt myself that he was hardly solid-going enough to mate with +your family. Keeping an inn—what is it? But 'a's clever, that's +true, and they say he was an engineering gentleman once, but has +come down by being too outwardly given."</p> + +<p>"I saw that, upon the whole, it would be better she should marry +where she wished."</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing, her feelings got the better of her, no doubt. +'Tis nature. Well, they may call him what they will—he've several +acres of heth-ground broke up here, besides the public house, and +the heth-croppers, and his manners be quite like a gentleman's. +And what's done cannot be undone."</p> + +<p>"It cannot," said Mrs. Yeobright. "See, here's the +waggon-track at last. Now we shall get along better."</p> + +<p>The wedding subject was no further dwelt upon; and soon a faint +diverging path was reached, where they parted company, Olly first +begging her companion to remind Mr. Wildeve that he had not sent +her sick husband the bottle of wine promised on the occasion of +his marriage. The besom-maker turned to the left towards her own +house, behind a spur of the hill, and Mrs. Yeobright followed the +straight track, which further on joined the highway by the Quiet +Woman Inn, whither she supposed her niece to have returned with +Wildeve from their wedding at Anglebury that day.</p> + +<p>She first reached Wildeve's Patch, as it was called, a plot of +land redeemed from the heath, and after long and laborious years +brought into cultivation. The man who had discovered that it could +be tilled died of the labour; the man who succeeded him in +possession ruined himself in fertilizing it. Wildeve came like +Amerigo Vespucci, and received the honours due to those who had +gone before.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Yeobright had drawn near to the inn, and was about to +enter, she saw a horse and vehicle some two hundred yards beyond +it, coming towards her, a man walking alongside with a lantern in +his hand. It was soon evident that this was the reddleman who had +inquired for her. Instead of entering the inn at once, she walked +by it and towards the van.</p> + +<p>The conveyance came close, and the man was about to pass her with +little notice, when she turned to him and said, "I think you have +been inquiring for me? I am Mrs. Yeobright of Blooms-End."</p> + +<p>The reddleman started, and held up his finger. He stopped the +horses, and beckoned to her to withdraw with him a few yards +aside, which she did, wondering.</p> + +<p>"You don't know me, ma'am, I suppose?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I do not," said she. "Why, yes, I do! You are young Venn—your +father was a dairyman somewhere here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I knew your niece, Miss Tamsin, a little. I have +something bad to tell you."</p> + +<p>"About her—no! She has just come home, I believe, with her +husband. They arranged to return this afternoon—to the inn beyond +here."</p> + +<p>"She's not there."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Because she's here. She's in my van," he added slowly.</p> + +<p>"What new trouble has come?" murmured Mrs. Yeobright, putting her +hand over her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't explain much, ma'am. All I know is that, as I was going +along the road this morning, about a mile out of Anglebury, I +heard something trotting after me like a doe, and looking round +there she was, white as death itself. 'Oh, Diggory Venn!' she +said, 'I thought 'twas you: will you help me? I am in trouble.'"</p> + +<p>"How did she know your Christian name?" said Mrs. Yeobright +doubtingly.</p> + +<p>"I had met her as a lad before I went away in this trade. She +asked then if she might ride, and then down she fell in a faint. I +picked her up and put her in, and there she has been ever since. +She has cried a good deal, but she has hardly spoke; all she has +told me being that she was to have been married this morning. I +tried to get her to eat something, but she couldn't; and at last +she fell asleep."</p> + +<p>"Let me see her at once," said Mrs. Yeobright, hastening towards +the van.</p> + +<p>The reddleman followed with the lantern, and, stepping up first, +assisted Mrs. Yeobright to mount beside him. On the door being +opened she perceived at the end of the van an extemporized couch, +around which was hung apparently all the drapery that the +reddleman possessed, to keep the occupant of the little couch from +contact with the red materials of his trade. A young girl lay +thereon, covered with a cloak. She was asleep, and the light of +the lantern fell upon her features.</p> + +<p>A fair, sweet, and honest country face was revealed, reposing in a +nest of wavy chestnut hair. It was between pretty and beautiful. +Though her eyes were closed, one could easily imagine the light +necessarily shining in them as the culmination of the luminous +workmanship around. The groundwork of the face was hopefulness; +but over it now lay like a foreign substance a film of anxiety +and grief. The grief had been there so shortly as to have +abstracted nothing of the bloom, and had as yet but given a +dignity to what it might eventually undermine. The scarlet of her +lips had not had time to abate, and just now it appeared still +more intense by the absence of the neighbouring and more transient +colour of her cheek. The lips frequently parted, with a murmur of +words. She seemed to belong rightly to a madrigal—to require +viewing through rhyme and harmony.</p> + +<p>One thing at least was obvious: she was not made to be looked at +thus. The reddleman had appeared conscious of as much, and, while +Mrs. Yeobright looked in upon her, he cast his eyes aside with a +delicacy which well became him. The sleeper apparently thought so +too, for the next moment she opened her own.</p> + +<p>The lips then parted with something of anticipation, something +more of doubt; and her several thoughts and fractions of thoughts, +as signalled by the changes on her face, were exhibited by the +light to the utmost nicety. An ingenuous, transparent life was +disclosed, as if the flow of her existence could be seen passing +within her. She understood the scene in a moment.</p> + +<p>"O yes, it is I, aunt," she cried. "I know how frightened you are, +and how you cannot believe it; but all the same, it is I who have +come home like this!"</p> + +<p>"Tamsin, Tamsin!" said Mrs. Yeobright, stooping over the young +woman and kissing her. "O my dear girl!"</p> + +<p>Thomasin was now on the verge of a sob, but by an unexpected +self-command she uttered no sound. With a gentle panting breath +she sat upright.</p> + +<p>"I did not expect to see you in this state, any more than you me," +she went on quickly. "Where am I, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Nearly home, my dear. In Egdon Bottom. What dreadful thing is +it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you in a moment. So near, are we? Then I will get out +and walk. I want to go home by the path."</p> + +<p>"But this kind man who has done so much will, I am sure, take you +right on to my house?" said the aunt, turning to the reddleman, +who had withdrawn from the front of the van on the awakening of +the girl, and stood in the road.</p> + +<p>"Why should you think it necessary to ask me? I will, of course," +said he.</p> + +<p>"He is indeed kind," murmured Thomasin. "I was once acquainted +with him, aunt, and when I saw him today I thought I should prefer +his van to any conveyance of a stranger. But I'll walk now. +Reddleman, stop the horses, please."</p> + +<p>The man regarded her with tender reluctance, but stopped them.</p> + +<p>Aunt and niece then descended from the van, Mrs. Yeobright saying +to its owner, "I quite recognize you now. What made you change +from the nice business your father left you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did," he said, and looked at Thomasin, who blushed a +little. "Then you'll not be wanting me any more to-night, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright glanced around at the dark sky, at the hills, at +the perishing bonfires, and at the lighted window of the inn they +had neared. "I think not," she said, "since Thomasin wishes to +walk. We can soon run up the path and reach home: we know it +well."</p> + +<p>And after a few further words they parted, the reddleman moving +onwards with his van, and the two women remaining standing in the +road. As soon as the vehicle and its driver had withdrawn so far +as to be beyond all possible reach of her voice, Mrs. Yeobright +turned to her niece.</p> + +<p>"Now, Thomasin," she said sternly, "what's the meaning of this +disgraceful performance?"</p> + + +<p><a name="1-5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V</h3> +<h3>Perplexity among Honest People<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Thomasin looked as if quite overcome by her aunt's change of +manner. "It means just what it seems to mean: I am—not married," +she replied faintly. "Excuse me—for humiliating you, aunt, by +this mishap: I am sorry for it. But I cannot help it."</p> + +<p>"Me? Think of yourself first."</p> + +<p>"It was nobody's fault. When we got there the parson wouldn't +marry us because of some trifling irregularity in the license."</p> + +<p>"What irregularity?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Mr. Wildeve can explain. I did not think when I +went away this morning that I should come back like this." It +being dark, Thomasin allowed her emotion to escape her by the +silent way of tears, which could roll down her cheek unseen.</p> + +<p>"I could almost say that it serves you right—if I did not feel +that you don't deserve it," continued Mrs. Yeobright, who, +possessing two distinct moods in close contiguity, a gentle mood +and an angry, flew from one to the other without the least +warning. "Remember, Thomasin, this business was none of my +seeking; from the very first, when you began to feel foolish about +that man, I warned you he would not make you happy. I felt it so +strongly that I did what I would never have believed myself +capable of doing—stood up in the church, and made myself the +public talk for weeks. But having once consented, I don't submit +to these fancies without good reason. Marry him you must after +this."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I wish to do otherwise for one moment?" said +Thomasin, with a heavy sigh. "I know how wrong it was of me to +love him, but don't pain me by talking like that, aunt! You would +not have had me stay there with him, would you?—and your house is +the only home I have to return to. He says we can be married in a +day or two."</p> + +<p>"I wish he had never seen you."</p> + +<p>"Very well; then I will be the miserablest woman in the world, and +not let him see me again. No, I won't have him!"</p> + +<p>"It is too late to speak so. Come with me. I am going to the inn +to see if he has returned. Of course I shall get to the bottom of +this story at once. Mr. Wildeve must not suppose he can play +tricks upon me, or any belonging to me."</p> + +<p>"It was not that. The license was wrong, and he couldn't get +another the same day. He will tell you in a moment how it was, if +he comes."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't he bring you back?"</p> + +<p>"That was me!" again sobbed Thomasin. "When I found we could not +be married I didn't like to come back with him, and I was very +ill. Then I saw Diggory Venn, and was glad to get him to take me +home. I cannot explain it any better, and you must be angry with +me if you will."</p> + +<p>"I shall see about that," said Mrs. Yeobright; and they turned +towards the inn, known in the neighbourhood as the Quiet Woman, +the sign of which represented the figure of a matron carrying her +head under her arm, beneath which gruesome design was written the +couplet so well known to frequenters of the inn:—<br /> </p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table><tr><td> +SINCE THE WOMAN'S QUIET<br /> +LET NO MAN BREED A RIOT.<br /> +</td></tr></table> +</div> + + +<p>The front of the house was towards the heath and Rainbarrow, whose +dark shape seemed to threaten it from the sky. Upon the door was a +neglected brass plate, bearing the unexpected inscription, "Mr. +Wildeve, Engineer"—a useless yet cherished relic from the time +when he had been started in that profession in an office at +Budmouth by those who had hoped much from him, and had been +disappointed. The garden was at the back, and behind this ran a +still deep stream, forming the margin of the heath in that +direction, meadow-land appearing beyond the stream.</p> + +<p>But the thick obscurity permitted only skylines to be visible of +any scene at present. The water at the back of the house could be +heard, idly spinning whirpools in its creep between the rows of +dry feather-headed reeds which formed a stockade along each bank. +Their presence was denoted by sounds as of a congregation praying +humbly, produced by their rubbing against each other in the slow +wind.</p> + +<p>The window, whence the candlelight had shone up the vale to the +eyes of the bonfire group, was uncurtained, but the sill lay too +high for a pedestrian on the outside to look over it into the +room. A vast shadow, in which could be dimly traced portions of a +masculine contour, blotted half the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"He seems to be at home," said Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"Must I come in, too, aunt?" asked Thomasin faintly. "I suppose +not; it would be wrong."</p> + +<p>"You must come, certainly—to confront him, so that he may make no +false representations to me. We shall not be five minutes in the +house, and then we'll walk home."</p> + +<p>Entering the open passage she tapped at the door of the private +parlour, unfastened it, and looked in.</p> + +<p>The back and shoulders of a man came between Mrs. Yeobright's eyes +and the fire. Wildeve, whose form it was, immediately turned, +arose, and advanced to meet his visitors.</p> + +<p>He was quite a young man, and of the two properties, form and +motion, the latter first attracted the eye in him. The grace of +his movement was singular: it was the pantomimic expression of a +lady-killing career. Next came into notice the more material +qualities, among which was a profuse crop of hair impending over +the top of his face, lending to his forehead the high-cornered +outline of an early Gothic shield; and a neck which was smooth and +round as a cylinder. The lower half of his figure was of light +build. Altogether he was one in whom no man would have seen +anything to admire, and in whom no woman would have seen anything +to dislike.</p> + +<p>He discerned the young girl's form in the passage, and said, +"Thomasin, then, has reached home. How could you leave me in that +way, darling?" And turning to Mrs. Yeobright: "It was useless to +argue with her. She would go, and go alone."</p> + +<p>"But what's the meaning of it all?" demanded Mrs. Yeobright +haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Take a seat," said Wildeve, placing chairs for the two women. +"Well, it was a very stupid mistake, but such mistakes will +happen. The license was useless at Anglebury. It was made out for +Budmouth, but as I didn't read it I wasn't aware of that."</p> + +<p>"But you had been staying at Anglebury?"</p> + +<p>"No. I had been at Budmouth—till two days ago—and that was where +I had intended to take her; but when I came to fetch her we +decided upon Anglebury, forgetting that a new license would be +necessary. There was not time to get to Budmouth afterwards."</p> + +<p>"I think you are very much to blame," said Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"It was quite my fault we chose Anglebury," Thomasin pleaded. "I +proposed it because I was not known there."</p> + +<p>"I know so well that I am to blame that you need not remind me of +it," replied Wildeve shortly.</p> + +<p>"Such things don't happen for nothing," said the aunt. "It is a +great slight to me and my family; and when it gets known there +will be a very unpleasant time for us. How can she look her +friends in the face tomorrow? It is a very great injury, and one I +cannot easily forgive. It may even reflect on her character."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>Thomasin's large eyes had flown from the face of one to the face +of the other during this discussion, and she now said anxiously, +"Will you allow me, aunt, to talk it over alone with Damon for +five minutes? Will you, Damon?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, dear," said Wildeve, "if your aunt will excuse us." He +led her into an adjoining room, leaving Mrs. Yeobright by the +fire.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were alone, and the door closed, Thomasin said, +turning up her pale, tearful face to him, "It is killing me, this, +Damon! I did not mean to part from you in anger at Anglebury this +morning; but I was frightened, and hardly knew what I said. I've +not let aunt know how much I have suffered to-day; and it is so hard +to command my face and voice, and to smile as if it were a slight +thing to me; but I try to do so, that she may not be still more +indignant with you. I know you could not help it, dear, whatever +aunt may think."</p> + +<p>"She is very unpleasant."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Thomasin murmured, "and I suppose I seem so +now… Damon, what do you mean to do about me?"</p> + +<p>"Do about you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Those who don't like you whisper things which at moments +make me doubt you. We mean to marry, I suppose, don't we?"</p> + +<p>"Of course we do. We have only to go to Budmouth on Monday, and we +marry at once."</p> + +<p>"Then do let us go!—O Damon, what you make me say!" She hid her +face in her handkerchief. "Here am I asking you to marry me, when +by rights you ought to be on your knees imploring me, your cruel +mistress, not to refuse you, and saying it would break your heart +if I did. I used to think it would be pretty and sweet like that; +but how different!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, real life is never at all like that."</p> + +<p>"But I don't care personally if it never takes place," she added +with a little dignity; "no, I can live without you. It is aunt I +think of. She is so proud, and thinks so much of her family +respectability, that she will be cut down with mortification if +this story should get abroad before—it is done. My cousin Clym, +too, will be much wounded."</p> + +<p>"Then he will be very unreasonable. In fact, you are all rather +unreasonable."</p> + +<p>Thomasin coloured a little, and not with love. But whatever the +momentary feeling which caused that flush in her, it went as it +came, and she humbly said, "I never mean to be, if I can help it. +I merely feel that you have my aunt to some extent in your power +at last."</p> + +<p>"As a matter of justice it is almost due to me," said Wildeve. +"Think what I have gone through to win her consent; the insult +that it is to any man to have the banns forbidden: the double +insult to a man unlucky enough to be cursed with sensitiveness, +and blue demons, and Heaven knows what, as I am. I can never +forget those banns. A harsher man would rejoice now in the power I +have of turning upon your aunt by going no further in the +business."</p> + +<p>She looked wistfully at him with her sorrowful eyes as he said +those words, and her aspect showed that more than one person in +the room could deplore the possession of sensitiveness. Seeing +that she was really suffering he seemed disturbed and added, "This +is merely a reflection you know. I have not the least intention to +refuse to complete the marriage, Tamsie mine—I could not bear +it."</p> + +<p>"You could not, I know!" said the fair girl, brightening. "You, +who cannot bear the sight of pain in even an insect, or any +disagreeable sound, or unpleasant smell even, will not long cause +pain to me and mine."</p> + +<p>"I will not, if I can help it."</p> + +<p>"Your hand upon it, Damon."</p> + +<p>He carelessly gave her his hand.</p> + +<p>"Ah, by my crown, what's that?" he said suddenly.</p> + +<p>There fell upon their ears the sound of numerous voices singing in +front of the house. Among these, two made themselves prominent by +their peculiarity: one was a very strong bass, the other a wheezy +thin piping. Thomasin recognized them as belonging to Timothy +Fairway and Grandfer Cantle respectively.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean—it is not skimmity-riding, I hope?" she said, +with a frightened gaze at Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"Of course not; no, it is that the heath-folk have come to sing to +us a welcome. This is intolerable!" He began pacing about, the men +outside singing cheerily—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"He told´ her that she´ was the joy´ of his life´.<br /> + And if´ she'd con-sent´ he would make her his wife´;<br /> + She could´ not refuse´ him; to church´ so they went´,<br /> + Young Will was forgot´, and young Sue´ was content´;<br /> + And then´ was she kiss'd´ and set down´ on his knee´,<br /> + No man´ in the world´ was so lov´-ing as he´!"<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright burst in from the outer room. "Thomasin, Thomasin!" +she said, looking indignantly at Wildeve; "here's a pretty +exposure! Let us escape at once. Come!"</p> + +<p>It was, however, too late to get away by the passage. A rugged +knocking had begun upon the door of the front room. Wildeve, who +had gone to the window, came back.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he said imperiously, putting his hand upon Mrs. +Yeobright's arm. "We are regularly besieged. There are fifty of +them out there if there's one. You stay in this room with +Thomasin; I'll go out and face them. You must stay now, for my +sake, till they are gone, so that it may seem as if all was right. +Come, Tamsie dear, don't go making a scene—we must marry after +this; that you can see as well as I. Sit still, that's all—and +don't speak much. I'll manage them. Blundering fools!"</p> + +<p>He pressed the agitated girl into a seat, returned to the outer +room and opened the door. Immediately outside, in the passage, +appeared Grandfer Cantle singing in concert with those still +standing in front of the house. He came into the room and nodded +abstractedly to Wildeve, his lips still parted, and his features +excruciatingly strained in the emission of the chorus. This being +ended, he said heartily, "Here's welcome to the newmade couple, +and God bless 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Wildeve, with dry resentment, his face as gloomy +as a thunderstorm.</p> + +<p>At the Grandfer's heels now came the rest of the group, which +included Fairway, Christian, Sam the turf-cutter, Humphrey, and a +dozen others. All smiled upon Wildeve, and upon his tables and +chairs likewise, from a general sense of friendliness towards the +articles as well as towards their owner.</p> + +<p>"We be not here afore Mrs. Yeobright after all," said Fairway, +recognizing the matron's bonnet through the glass partition which +divided the public apartment they had entered from the room where +the women sat. "We struck down across, d'ye see, Mr. Wildeve, and +she went round by the path."</p> + +<p>"And I see the young bride's little head!" said Grandfer, peeping +in the same direction, and discerning Thomasin, who was waiting +beside her aunt in a miserable and awkward way. "Not quite settled +in yet—well, well, there's plenty of time."</p> + +<p>Wildeve made no reply; and probably feeling that the sooner he +treated them the sooner they would go, he produced a stone jar, +which threw a warm halo over matters at once.</p> + +<p>"That's a drop of the right sort, I can see," said Grandfer +Cantle, with the air of a man too well-mannered to show any hurry +to taste it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Wildeve, "'tis some old mead. I hope you will like +it."</p> + +<p>"O ay!" replied the guests, in the hearty tones natural when the +words demanded by politeness coincide with those of deepest +feeling. "There isn't a prettier drink under the sun."</p> + +<p>"I'll take my oath there isn't," added Grandfer Cantle. "All that +can be said against mead is that 'tis rather heady, and apt to lie +about a man a good while. But tomorrow's Sunday, thank God."</p> + +<p>"I feel'd for all the world like some bold soldier after I had had +some once," said Christian.</p> + +<p>"You shall feel so again," said Wildeve, with condescension, "Cups +or glasses, gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if you don't mind, we'll have the beaker, and pass 'en +round; 'tis better than heling it out in dribbles."</p> + +<p>"Jown the slippery glasses," said Grandfer Cantle. "What's the +good of a thing that you can't put down in the ashes to warm, hey, +neighbours; that's what I ask?"</p> + +<p>"Right, Grandfer," said Sam; and the mead then circulated.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Timothy Fairway, feeling demands upon his praise in +some form or other, "'tis a worthy thing to be married, Mr. +Wildeve; and the woman you've got is a dimant, so says I. Yes," he +continued, to Grandfer Cantle, raising his voice so as to be heard +through the partition, "her father (inclining his head towards the +inner room) was as good a feller as ever lived. He always had his +great indignation ready against anything underhand."</p> + +<p>"Is that very dangerous?" said Christian.</p> + +<p>"And there were few in these parts that were upsides with him," +said Sam. "Whenever a club walked he'd play the clarinet in the +band that marched before 'em as if he'd never touched anything but +a clarinet all his life. And then, when they got to church door +he'd throw down the clarinet, mount the gallery, snatch up the +bass-viol, and rozum away as if he'd never played anything but a +bass-viol. Folk would say—folk that knowed what a true stave +was—'Surely, surely that's never the same man that I saw handling +the clarinet so masterly by now!"</p> + +<p>"I can mind it," said the furze-cutter. "'Twas a wonderful thing +that one body could hold it all and never mix the fingering."</p> + +<p>"There was Kingsbere church likewise," Fairway recommenced, as one +opening a new vein of the same mine of interest.</p> + +<p>Wildeve breathed the breath of one intolerably bored, and glanced +through the partition at the prisoners.</p> + +<p>"He used to walk over there of a Sunday afternoon to visit his old +acquaintance Andrew Brown, the first clarinet there; a good man +enough, but rather screechy in his music, if you can mind?"</p> + +<p>"'A was."</p> + +<p>"And neighbour Yeobright would take Andrey's place for some part +of the service, to let Andrey have a bit of a nap, as any friend +would naturally do."</p> + +<p>"As any friend would," said Grandfer Cantle, the other listeners +expressing the same accord by the shorter way of nodding their +heads.</p> + +<p>"No sooner was Andrey asleep and the first whiff of neighbour +Yeobright's wind had got inside Andrey's clarinet than everyone in +church feeled in a moment there was a great soul among 'em. All +heads would turn, and they'd say, 'Ah, I thought 'twas he!' One +Sunday I can well mind—a bass-viol day that time, and Yeobright +had brought his own. 'Twas the Hundred-and-thirty-third to +'Lydia'; and when they'd come to 'Ran down his beard and o'er his +robes its costly moisture shed,' neighbour Yeobright, who had just +warmed to his work, drove his bow into them strings that glorious +grand that he e'en a'most sawed the bass-viol into two pieces. +Every winder in church rattled as if 'twere a thunderstorm. Old +Pa'son Williams lifted his hands in his great holy surplice as +natural as if he'd been in common clothes, and seemed to say to +hisself, 'O for such a man in our parish!' But not a soul in +Kingsbere could hold a candle to Yeobright."</p> + +<p>"Was it quite safe when the winder shook?" Christian inquired.</p> + +<p>He received no answer, all for the moment sitting rapt in +admiration of the performance described. As with Farinelli's +singing before the princesses, Sheridan's renowned Begum Speech, +and other such examples, the fortunate condition of its being for +ever lost to the world invested the deceased Mr. Yeobright's +<i>tour de force</i> on that memorable afternoon with a cumulative +glory which comparative criticism, had that been possible, might +considerably have shorn down.</p> + +<p>"He was the last you'd have expected to drop off in the prime of +life," said Humphrey.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well: he was looking for the earth some months afore he went. +At that time women used to run for smocks and gown-pieces at +Greenhill Fair, and my wife that is now, being a long-legged +slittering maid, hardly husband-high, went with the rest of the +maidens, for 'a was a good runner afore she got so heavy. When +she came home I said—we were then just beginning to walk +together—'What have ye got, my honey?' 'I've won—well, I've +won—a gown-piece,' says she, her colours coming up in a moment. +'Tis a smock for a crown, I thought; and so it turned out. Ay, +when I think what she'll say to me now without a mossel of red in +her face, it do seem strange that 'a wouldn't say such a little +thing then… However, then she went on, and that's what made +me bring up the story. 'Well, whatever clothes I've won, white or +figured, for eyes to see or for eyes not to see' ('a could do a +pretty stroke of modesty in those days), 'I'd sooner have lost it +than have seen what I have. Poor Mr. Yeobright was took bad +directly he reached the fair ground, and was forced to go home +again.' That was the last time he ever went out of the parish."</p> + +<p>"'A faltered on from one day to another, and then we heard he was +gone."</p> + +<p>"D'ye think he had great pain when 'a died?" said Christian.</p> + +<p>"O no: quite different. Nor any pain of mind. He was lucky enough +to be God A'mighty's own man."</p> + +<p>"And other folk—d'ye think 'twill be much pain to 'em, Mister +Fairway?"</p> + +<p>"That depends on whether they be afeard."</p> + +<p>"I bain't afeard at all, I thank God!" said Christian strenuously. +"I'm glad I bain't, for then 'twon't pain me… I don't think I be +afeard—or if I be I can't help it, and I don't deserve to suffer. +I wish I was not afeard at all!"</p> + +<p>There was a solemn silence, and looking from the window, which was +unshuttered and unblinded, Timothy said, "Well, what a fess little +bonfire that one is, out by Cap'n Vye's! 'Tis burning just the +same now as ever, upon my life."</p> + +<p>All glances went through the window, and nobody noticed that +Wildeve disguised a brief, telltale look. Far away up the sombre +valley of heath, and to the right of Rainbarrow, could indeed be +seen the light, small, but steady and persistent as before.</p> + +<p>"It was lighted before ours was," Fairway continued; "and yet +every one in the country round is out afore 'n."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps there's meaning in it!" murmured Christian.</p> + +<p>"How meaning?" said Wildeve sharply.</p> + +<p>Christian was too scattered to reply, and Timothy helped him.</p> + +<p>"He means, sir, that the lonesome dark-eyed creature up there that +some say is a witch—ever I should call a fine young woman such a +name—is always up to some odd conceit or other; and so perhaps +'tis she."</p> + +<p>"I'd be very glad to ask her in wedlock, if she'd hae me, and take +the risk of her wild dark eyes ill-wishing me," said Grandfer +Cantle staunchly.</p> + +<p>"Don't ye say it, father!" implored Christian.</p> + +<p>"Well, be dazed if he who do marry the maid won't hae an uncommon +picture for his best parlour," said Fairway in a liquid tone, +placing down the cup of mead at the end of a good pull.</p> + +<p>"And a partner as deep as the North Star," said Sam, taking up the +cup and finishing the little that remained. "Well, really, now I +think we must be moving," said Humphrey, observing the emptiness +of the vessel.</p> + + +<p>"But we'll gie 'em another song?" said Grandfer Cantle. "I'm as +full of notes as a bird!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Grandfer," said Wildeve. "But we will not trouble you +now. Some other day must do for that—when I have a party."</p> + +<p>"Be jown'd if I don't learn ten new songs for't, or I won't learn +a line!" said Grandfer Cantle. "And you may be sure I won't +disappoint ye by biding away, Mr. Wildeve."</p> + +<p>"I quite believe you," said that gentleman.</p> + +<p>All then took their leave, wishing their entertainer long life and +happiness as a married man, with recapitulations which occupied +some time. Wildeve attended them to the door, beyond which the +deep-dyed upward stretch of heath stood awaiting them, an +amplitude of darkness reigning from their feet almost to the +zenith, where a definite form first became visible in the lowering +forehead of Rainbarrow. Diving into the dense obscurity in a line +headed by Sam the turf-cutter, they pursued their trackless way +home.</p> + +<p>When the scratching of the furze against their leggings had +fainted upon the ear, Wildeve returned to the room where he had +left Thomasin and her aunt. The women were gone.</p> + +<p>They could only have left the house in one way, by the back +window; and this was open.</p> + +<p>Wildeve laughed to himself, remained a moment thinking, and idly +returned to the front room. Here his glance fell upon a bottle of +wine which stood on the mantelpiece. "Ah—old Dowden!" he +murmured; and going to the kitchen door shouted, "Is anybody here +who can take something to old Dowden?"</p> + +<p>There was no reply. The room was empty, the lad who acted as his +factotum having gone to bed. Wildeve came back put on his hat, +took the bottle, and left the house, turning the key in the door, +for there was no guest at the inn tonight. As soon as he was on +the road the little bonfire on Mistover Knap again met his eye.</p> + +<p>"Still waiting, are you, my lady?" he murmured.</p> + +<p>However, he did not proceed that way just then; but leaving the +hill to the left of him, he stumbled over a rutted road that +brought him to a cottage which, like all other habitations on the +heath at this hour, was only saved from being visible by a faint +shine from its bedroom window. This house was the home of Olly +Dowden, the besom-maker, and he entered.</p> + +<p>The lower room was in darkness; but by feeling his way he found a +table, whereon he placed the bottle, and a minute later emerged +again upon the heath. He stood and looked north-east at the undying +little fire—high up above him, though not so high as Rainbarrow.</p> + +<p>We have been told what happens when a woman deliberates; and the +epigram is not always terminable with woman, provided that one be +in the case, and that a fair one. Wildeve stood, and stood longer, +and breathed perplexedly, and then said to himself with +resignation, "Yes—by Heaven, I must go to her, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>Instead of turning in the direction of home he pressed on rapidly +by a path under Rainbarrow towards what was evidently a signal +light.</p> + + +<p><a name="1-6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI</h3> +<h3>The Figure against the Sky<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When the whole Egdon concourse had left the site of the bonfire to +its accustomed loneliness, a closely wrapped female figure +approached the barrow from that quarter of the heath in which the +little fire lay. Had the reddleman been watching he might have +recognized her as the woman who had first stood there so +singularly, and vanished at the approach of strangers. She +ascended to her old position at the top, where the red coals of +the perishing fire greeted her like living eyes in the corpse of +day. There she stood still, around her stretching the vast night +atmosphere, whose incomplete darkness in comparison with the total +darkness of the heath below it might have represented a venial +beside a mortal sin.</p> + +<p>That she was tall and straight in build, that she was lady-like in +her movements, was all that could be learnt of her just now, her +form being wrapped in a shawl folded in the old cornerwise +fashion, and her head in a large kerchief, a protection not +superfluous at this hour and place. Her back was towards the wind, +which blew from the north-west; but whether she had avoided that +aspect because of the chilly gusts which played about her +exceptional position, or because her interest lay in the +south-east, did not at first appear.</p> + +<p>Her reason for standing so dead still as the pivot of this circle +of heath-country was just as obscure. Her extraordinary fixity, +her conspicuous loneliness, her heedlessness of night, betokened +among other things an utter absence of fear. A tract of country +unaltered from that sinister condition which made Caesar anxious +every year to get clear of its glooms before the autumnal equinox, +a kind of landscape and weather which leads travellers from the +South to describe our island as Homer's Cimmerian land, was not, +on the face of it, friendly to women.</p> + +<p>It might reasonably have been supposed that she was listening to +the wind, which rose somewhat as the night advanced, and laid hold +of the attention. The wind, indeed, seemed made for the scene, as +the scene seemed made for the hour. Part of its tone was quite +special; what was heard there could be heard nowhere else. Gusts +in innumerable series followed each other from the north-west, and +when each one of them raced past the sound of its progress +resolved into three. Treble, tenor, and bass notes were to be +found therein. The general ricochet of the whole over pits and +prominences had the gravest pitch of the chime. Next there could +be heard the baritone buzz of a holly tree. Below these in force, +above them in pitch, a dwindled voice strove hard at a husky tune, +which was the peculiar local sound alluded to. Thinner and less +immediately traceable than the other two, it was far more +impressive than either. In it lay what may be called the +linguistic peculiarity of the heath; and being audible nowhere on +earth off a heath, it afforded a shadow of reason for the woman's +tenseness, which continued as unbroken as ever.</p> + +<p>Throughout the blowing of these plaintive November winds that note +bore a great resemblance to the ruins of human song which remain +to the throat of fourscore and ten. It was a worn whisper, dry and +papery, and it brushed so distinctly across the ear that, by the +accustomed, the material minutiae in which it originated could be +realized as by touch. It was the united products of infinitesimal +vegetable causes, and these were neither stems, leaves, fruit, +blades, prickles, lichen, nor moss.</p> + +<p>They were the mummied heath-bells of the past summer, originally +tender and purple, now washed colourless by Michaelmas rains, and +dried to dead skins by October suns. So low was an individual +sound from these that a combination of hundreds only just emerged +from silence, and the myriads of the whole declivity reached the +woman's ear but as a shrivelled and intermittent recitative. Yet +scarcely a single accent among the many afloat to-night could have +such power to impress a listener with thoughts of its origin. One +inwardly saw the infinity of those combined multitudes; and +perceived that each of the tiny trumpets was seized on, entered, +scoured and emerged from by the wind as thoroughly as if it were +as vast as a crater.</p> + +<p>"The spirit moved them." A meaning of the phrase forced itself +upon the attention; and an emotional listener's fetichistic mood +might have ended in one of more advanced quality. It was not, +after all, that the left-hand expanse of old blooms spoke, or the +right-hand, or those of the slope in front; but it was the single +person of something else speaking through each at once.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, on the barrow, there mingled with all this wild rhetoric +of night a sound which modulated so naturally into the rest that +its beginning and ending were hardly to be distinguished. The +bluffs, and the bushes, and the heather-bells had broken silence; +at last, so did the woman; and her articulation was but as another +phrase of the same discourse as theirs. Thrown out on the winds it +became twined in with them, and with them it flew away.</p> + +<p>What she uttered was a lengthened sighing, apparently at something +in her mind which had led to her presence here. There was a +spasmodic abandonment about it as if, in allowing herself to utter +the sound. the woman's brain had authorized what it could not +regulate. One point was evident in this; that she had been +existing in a suppressed state, and not in one of languor, or +stagnation.</p> + +<p>Far away down the valley the faint shine from the window of the +inn still lasted on; and a few additional moments proved that the +window, or what was within it, had more to do with the woman's +sigh than had either her own actions or the scene immediately +around. She lifted her left hand, which held a closed telescope. +This she rapidly extended, as if she were well accustomed to the +operation, and raising it to her eye directed it towards the light +beaming from the inn.</p> + +<p>The handkerchief which had hooded her head was now a little thrown +back, her face being somewhat elevated. A profile was visible +against the dull monochrome of cloud around her; and it was as +though side shadows from the features of Sappho and Mrs. Siddons +had converged upwards from the tomb to form an image like neither +but suggesting both. This, however, was mere superficiality. In +respect of character a face may make certain admissions by its +outline; but it fully confesses only in its changes. So much is +this the case that what is called the play of the features often +helps more in understanding a man or woman than the earnest +labours of all the other members together. Thus the night revealed +little of her whose form it was embracing, for the mobile parts of +her countenance could not be seen.</p> + +<p>At last she gave up her spying attitude, closed the telescope, and +turned to the decaying embers. From these no appreciable beams now +radiated, except when a more than usually smart gust brushed over +their faces and raised a fitful glow which came and went like the +blush of a girl. She stooped over the silent circle, and selecting +from the brands a piece of stick which bore the largest live coal +at its end, brought it to where she had been standing before.</p> + +<p>She held the brand to the ground, blowing the red coal with her +mouth at the same time; till it faintly illuminated the sod, and +revealed a small object, which turned out to be an hourglass, +though she wore a watch. She blew long enough to show that the +sand had all slipped through.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she said, as if surprised.</p> + +<p>The light raised by her breath had been very fitful, and a +momentary irradiation of flesh was all that it had disclosed of +her face. That consisted of two matchless lips and a cheek only, +her head being still enveloped. She threw away the stick, took the +glass in her hand, the telescope under her arm, and moved on.</p> + +<p>Along the ridge ran a faint foot-track, which the lady followed. +Those who knew it well called it a path; and, while a mere visitor +would have passed it unnoticed even by day, the regular haunters +of the heath were at no loss for it at midnight. The whole secret +of following these incipient paths, when there was not light +enough in the atmosphere to show a turnpike-road, lay in the +development of the sense of touch in the feet, which comes with +years of night-rambling in little-trodden spots. To a walker +practised in such places a difference between impact on maiden +herbage, and on the crippled stalks of a slight footway, is +perceptible through the thickest boot or shoe.</p> + +<p>The solitary figure who walked this beat took no notice of the +windy tune still played on the dead heath-bells. She did not turn +her head to look at a group of dark creatures further on, who fled +from her presence as she skirted a ravine where they fed. They +were about a score of the small wild ponies known as +heath-croppers. They roamed at large on the undulations of Egdon, +but in numbers too few to detract much from the solitude.</p> + +<p>The pedestrian noticed nothing just now, and a clue to her +abstraction was afforded by a trivial incident. A bramble caught +hold of her skirt, and checked her progress. Instead of putting it +off and hastening along, she yielded herself up to the pull, and +stood passively still. When she began to extricate herself it was +by turning round and round, and so unwinding the prickly switch. +She was in a desponding reverie.</p> + +<p>Her course was in the direction of the small undying fire which +had drawn the attention of the men on Rainbarrow and of Wildeve in +the valley below. A faint illumination from its rays began to glow +upon her face, and the fire soon revealed itself to be lit, not on +the level ground, but on a salient corner or redan of earth, at +the junction of two converging bank fences. Outside was a ditch, +dry except immediately under the fire, where there was a large +pool, bearded all round by heather and rushes. In the smooth water +of the pool the fire appeared upside down.</p> + +<p>The banks meeting behind were bare of a hedge, save such as was +formed by disconnected tufts of furze, standing upon stems along +the top, like impaled heads above a city wall. A white mast, +fitted up with spars and other nautical tackle, could be seen +rising against the dark clouds whenever the flames played brightly +enough to reach it. Altogether the scene had much the appearance +of a fortification upon which had been kindled a beacon fire.</p> + +<p>Nobody was visible; but ever and anon a whitish something moved +above the bank from behind, and vanished again. This was a small +human hand, in the act of lifting pieces of fuel into the fire; +but for all that could be seen the hand, like that which troubled +Belshazzar, was there alone. Occasionally an ember rolled off the +bank, and dropped with a hiss into the pool.</p> + +<p>At one side of the pool rough steps built of clods enabled +any one who wished to do so to mount the bank; which the woman +did. Within was a paddock in an uncultivated state, though bearing +evidence of having once been tilled; but the heath and fern had +insidiously crept in, and were reasserting their old supremacy. +Further ahead were dimly visible an irregular dwelling-house, +garden, and outbuildings, backed by a clump of firs.</p> + +<p>The young lady—for youth had revealed its presence in her buoyant +bound up the bank—walked along the top instead of descending +inside, and came to the corner where the fire was burning. One +reason for the permanence of the blaze was now manifest: the fuel +consisted of hard pieces of wood, cleft and sawn—the knotty boles +of old thorn trees which grew in twos and threes about the +hillsides. A yet unconsumed pile of these lay in the inner angle +of the bank; and from this corner the upturned face of a little +boy greeted her eyes. He was dilatorily throwing up a piece of +wood into the fire every now and then, a business which seemed to +have engaged him a considerable part of the evening, for his face +was somewhat weary.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have come, Miss Eustacia," he said, with a sigh of +relief. "I don't like biding by myself."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. I have only been a little way for a walk. I have been +gone only twenty minutes."</p> + +<p>"It seemed long," murmured the sad boy. "And you have been so many +times."</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought you would be pleased to have a bonfire. Are you +not much obliged to me for making you one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but there's nobody here to play wi' me."</p> + +<p>"I suppose nobody has come while I've been away?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody except your grandfather: he looked out of doors once for +'ee. I told him you were walking round upon the hill to look at +the other bonfires."</p> + +<p>"A good boy."</p> + +<p>"I think I hear him coming again, miss."</p> + +<p>An old man came into the remoter light of the fire from the +direction of the homestead. He was the same who had overtaken the +reddleman on the road that afternoon. He looked wistfully to the +top of the bank at the woman who stood there, and his teeth, which +were quite unimpaired, showed like parian from his parted lips.</p> + +<p>"When are you coming indoors, Eustacia?" he asked. "'Tis almost +bedtime. I've been home these two hours, and am tired out. Surely +'tis somewhat childish of you to stay out playing at bonfires so +long, and wasting such fuel. My precious thorn roots, the rarest +of all firing, that I laid by on purpose for Christmas—you have +burnt 'em nearly all!"</p> + +<p>"I promised Johnny a bonfire, and it pleases him not to let it go +out just yet," said Eustacia, in a way which told at once that she +was absolute queen here. "Grandfather, you go in to bed. I shall +follow you soon. You like the fire, don't you, Johnny?"</p> + +<p>The boy looked up doubtfully at her and murmured, "I don't think I +want it any longer."</p> + +<p>Her grandfather had turned back again, and did not hear the boy's +reply. As soon as the white-haired man had vanished she said in a +tone of pique to the child, "Ungrateful little boy, how can you +contradict me? Never shall you have a bonfire again unless you +keep it up now. Come, tell me you like to do things for me, and +don't deny it."</p> + +<p>The repressed child said, "Yes, I do, miss," and continued to stir +the fire perfunctorily.</p> + +<p>"Stay a little longer and I will give you a crooked six-pence," +said Eustacia, more gently. "Put in one piece of wood every two or +three minutes, but not too much at once. I am going to walk along +the ridge a little longer, but I shall keep on coming to you. And +if you hear a frog jump into the pond with a flounce like a stone +thrown in, be sure you run and tell me, because it is a sign of +rain."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Eustacia."</p> + +<p>"Miss Vye, sir."</p> + +<p>"Miss Vy—stacia."</p> + +<p>"That will do. Now put in one stick more."</p> + +<p>The little slave went on feeding the fire as before. He seemed a +mere automaton, galvanized into moving and speaking by the wayward +Eustacia's will. He might have been the brass statue which +Albertus Magnus is said to have animated just so far as to make it +chatter, and move, and be his servant.</p> + +<p>Before going on her walk again the young girl stood still on the +bank for a few instants and listened. It was to the full as lonely +a place as Rainbarrow, though at rather a lower level; and it was +more sheltered from wind and weather on account of the few firs to +the north. The bank which enclosed the homestead, and protected it +from the lawless state of the world without, was formed of thick +square clods, dug from the ditch on the outside, and built up with +a slight batter or incline, which forms no slight defense where +hedges will not grow because of the wind and the wilderness, and +where wall materials are unattainable. Otherwise the situation was +quite open, commanding the whole length of the valley which +reached to the river behind Wildeve's house. High above this to +the right, and much nearer thitherward than the Quiet Woman Inn, +the blurred contour of Rainbarrow obstructed the sky.</p> + +<p>After her attentive survey of the wild slopes and hollow ravines a +gesture of impatience escaped Eustacia. She vented petulant words +every now and then, but there were sighs between her words, and +sudden listenings between her sighs. Descending from her perch she +again sauntered off towards Rainbarrow, though this time she did +not go the whole way.</p> + +<p>Twice she reappeared at intervals of a few minutes and each time +she said—</p> + +<p>"Not any flounce into the pond yet, little man?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Eustacia," the child replied.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said at last, "I shall soon be going in, and then I +will give you the crooked sixpence, and let you go home."</p> + +<p>"Thank'ee, Miss Eustacia," said the tired stoker, breathing more +easily. And Eustacia again strolled away from the fire, but this +time not towards Rainbarrow. She skirted the bank and went round +to the wicket before the house, where she stood motionless, +looking at the scene.</p> + +<p>Fifty yards off rose the corner of the two converging banks, with +the fire upon it; within the bank, lifting up to the fire one +stick at a time, just as before, the figure of the little child. +She idly watched him as he occasionally climbed up in the nook of +the bank and stood beside the brands. The wind blew the smoke, and +the child's hair, and the corner of his pinafore, all in the same +direction; the breeze died, and the pinafore and hair lay still, +and the smoke went up straight.</p> + +<p>While Eustacia looked on from this distance the boy's form visibly +started: he slid down the bank and ran across towards the white +gate.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"A hop-frog have jumped into the pond. Yes, I heard 'en!"</p> + +<p>"Then it is going to rain, and you had better go home. You will +not be afraid?" She spoke hurriedly, as if her heart had leapt +into her throat at the boy's words.</p> + +<p>"No, because I shall hae the crooked sixpence."</p> + +<p>"Yes, here it is. Now run as fast as you can—not +that way—through the garden here. No other boy in the heath has +had such a bonfire as yours."</p> + +<p>The boy, who clearly had had too much of a good thing, marched +away into the shadows with alacrity. When he was gone Eustacia, +leaving her telescope and hour-glass by the gate, brushed forward +from the wicket towards the angle of the bank, under the fire.</p> + +<p>Here, screened by the outwork, she waited. In a few moments a +splash was audible from the pond outside. Had the child been there +he would have said that a second frog had jumped in; but by most +people the sound would have been likened to the fall of a stone +into the water. Eustacia stepped upon the bank.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she said, and held her breath.</p> + +<p>Thereupon the contour of a man became dimly visible against the +low-reaching sky over the valley, beyond the outer margin of the +pool. He came round it and leapt upon the bank beside her. A low +laugh escaped her—the third utterance which the girl had indulged +in tonight. The first, when she stood upon Rainbarrow, had +expressed anxiety; the second, on the ridge, had expressed +impatience; the present was one of triumphant pleasure. She let +her joyous eyes rest upon him without speaking, as upon some +wondrous thing she had created out of chaos.</p> + +<p>"I have come," said the man, who was Wildeve. "You give me no +peace. Why do you not leave me alone? I have seen your bonfire all +the evening." The words were not without emotion, and retained +their level tone as if by a careful equipoise between imminent +extremes.</p> + +<p>At this unexpectedly repressing manner in her lover the girl +seemed to repress herself also. "Of course you have seen my fire," +she answered with languid calmness, artificially maintained. "Why +shouldn't I have a bonfire on the Fifth of November, like other +denizens of the heath?"</p> + +<p>"I knew it was meant for me."</p> + +<p>"How did you know it? I have had no word with you since you—you +chose her, and walked about with her, and deserted me entirely, as +if I had never been yours life and soul so irretrievably!"</p> + +<p>"Eustacia! could I forget that last autumn at this same day of the +month and at this same place you lighted exactly such a fire as a +signal for me to come and see you? Why should there have been a +bonfire again by Captain Vye's house if not for the same purpose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—I own it," she cried under her breath, with a drowsy +fervour of manner and tone which was quite peculiar to her. "Don't +begin speaking to me as you did, Damon; you will drive me to say +words I would not wish to say to you. I had given you up, and +resolved not to think of you any more; and then I heard the news, +and I came out and got the fire ready because I thought that you +had been faithful to me."</p> + +<p>"What have you heard to make you think that?" said Wildeve, +astonished.</p> + +<p>"That you did not marry her!" she murmured exultingly. "And I knew +it was because you loved me best, and couldn't do it… Damon, +you have been cruel to me to go away, and I have said I would never +forgive you. I do not think I can forgive you entirely, even +now—it is too much for a woman of any spirit to quite overlook."</p> + +<p>"If I had known you wished to call me up here only to reproach me, +I wouldn't have come."</p> + +<p>"But I don't mind it, and I do forgive you now that you have not +married her, and have come back to me!"</p> + +<p>"Who told you that I had not married her?"</p> + +<p>"My grandfather. He took a long walk to-day, and as he was coming +home he overtook some person who told him of a broken-off +wedding: he thought it might be yours, and I knew it was."</p> + +<p>"Does anybody else know?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose not. Now Damon, do you see why I lit my signal fire? +You did not think I would have lit it if I had imagined you to +have become the husband of this woman. It is insulting my pride to +suppose that."</p> + +<p>Wildeve was silent; it was evident that he had supposed as much.</p> + +<p>"Did you indeed think I believed you were married?" she again +demanded earnestly. "Then you wronged me; and upon my life and +heart I can hardly bear to recognize that you have such ill +thoughts of me! Damon, you are not worthy of me: I see it, and yet +I love you. Never mind, let it go—I must bear your mean opinion +as best I may… It is true, is it not," she added with +ill-concealed anxiety, on his making no demonstration, "that you +could not bring yourself to give me up, and are still going to +love me best of all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; or why should I have come?" he said touchily. "Not that +fidelity will be any great merit in me after your kind speech +about my unworthiness, which should have been said by myself if by +anybody, and comes with an ill grace from you. However, the curse +of inflammability is upon me, and I must live under it, and take +any snub from a woman. It has brought me down from engineering to +innkeeping: what lower stage it has in store for me I have yet to +learn." He continued to look upon her gloomily.</p> + +<p>She seized the moment, and throwing back the shawl so that the +firelight shone full upon her face and throat, said with a smile, +"Have you seen anything better than that in your travels?"</p> + +<p>Eustacia was not one to commit herself to such a position without +good ground. He said quietly, "No."</p> + +<p>"Not even on the shoulders of Thomasin?"</p> + +<p>"Thomasin is a pleasing and innocent woman."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing to do with it," she cried with quick +passionateness. "We will leave her out; there are only you and me +now to think of." After a long look at him she resumed with the +old quiescent warmth: "Must I go on weakly confessing to you +things a woman ought to conceal; and own that no words can express +how gloomy I have been because of that dreadful belief I held till +two hours ago—that you had quite deserted me?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I caused you that pain."</p> + +<p>"But perhaps it is not wholly because of you that I get gloomy," +she archly added. "It is in my nature to feel like that. It was +born in my blood, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Hypochondriasis."</p> + +<p>"Or else it was coming into this wild heath. I was happy enough at +Budmouth. O the times, O the days at Budmouth! But Egdon will be +brighter again now."</p> + +<p>"I hope it will," said Wildeve moodily. "Do you know the +consequence of this recall to me, my old darling? I shall come to +see you again as before, at Rainbarrow."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will."</p> + +<p>"And yet I declare that until I got here tonight I intended, after +this one good-bye, never to meet you again."</p> + +<p>"I don't thank you for that," she said, turning away, while +indignation spread through her like subterranean heat. "You may +come again to Rainbarrow if you like, but you won't see me; and +you may call, but I shall not listen; and you may tempt me, but I +won't give myself to you any more."</p> + +<p>"You have said as much before, sweet; but such natures as yours +don't so easily adhere to their words. Neither, for the matter of +that, do such natures as mine."</p> + +<p>"This is the pleasure I have won by my trouble," she whispered +bitterly. "Why did I try to recall you? Damon, a strange warring +takes place in my mind occasionally. I think when I become calm +after your woundings, 'Do I embrace a cloud of common fog after +all?' You are a chameleon, and now you are at your worst colour. +Go home, or I shall hate you!"</p> + +<p>He looked absently towards Rainbarrow while one might have counted +twenty, and said, as if he did not much mind all this, "Yes, I +will go home. Do you mean to see me again?"</p> + +<p>"If you own to me that the wedding is broken off because you love +me best."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it would be good policy," said Wildeve, smiling. +"You would get to know the extent of your power too clearly."</p> + +<p>"But tell me!"</p> + +<p>"You know."</p> + +<p>"Where is she now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I prefer not to speak of her to you. I have not yet +married her; I have come in obedience to your call. That is +enough."</p> + +<p>"I merely lit that fire because I was dull, and thought I would +get a little excitement by calling you up and triumphing over you +as the Witch of Endor called up Samuel. I determined you should +come; and you have come! I have shown my power. A mile and half +hither, and a mile and half back again to your home—three miles +in the dark for me. Have I not shown my power?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head at her. "I know you too well, my Eustacia; I +know you too well. There isn't a note in you which I don't know; +and that hot little bosom couldn't play such a coldblooded trick +to save its life. I saw a woman on Rainbarrow at dusk looking down +towards my house. I think I drew out you before you drew out me."</p> + +<p>The revived embers of an old passion glowed clearly in Wildeve +now; and he leant forward as if about to put his face towards her +cheek.</p> + +<p>"O no," she said, intractably moving to the other side of the +decayed fire. "What did you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I may kiss your hand?"</p> + +<p>"No, you may not."</p> + +<p>"Then I may shake your hand?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then I wish you good night without caring for either. Good-bye, +good-bye."</p> + +<p>She returned no answer, and with the bow of a dancing-master he +vanished on the other side of the pool as he had come.</p> + +<p>Eustacia sighed: it was no fragile maiden sigh, but a sigh which +shook her like a shiver. Whenever a flash of reason darted like an +electric light upon her lover—as it sometimes would—and showed +his imperfections, she shivered thus. But it was over in a second, +and she loved on. She knew that he trifled with her; but she loved +on. She scattered the half-burnt brands, went indoors immediately, +and up to her bedroom without a light. Amid the rustles which +denoted her to be undressing in the darkness other heavy breaths +frequently came; and the same kind of shudder occasionally moved +through her when, ten minutes later, she lay on her bed asleep.</p> + + +<p><a name="1-7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII</h3> +<h3>Queen of Night<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Eustacia Vye was the raw material of a divinity. On Olympus she +would have done well with a little preparation. She had the +passions and instincts which make a model goddess, that is, those +which make not quite a model woman. Had it been possible for the +earth and mankind to be entirely in her grasp for a while, had she +handled the distaff, the spindle, and the shears at her own free +will, few in the world would have noticed the change of +government. There would have been the same inequality of lot, the +same heaping up of favours here, of contumely there, the same +generosity before justice, the same perpetual dilemmas, the same +captious alteration of caresses and blows that we endure now.</p> + +<p>She was in person full-limbed and somewhat heavy; without +ruddiness, as without pallor; and soft to the touch as a cloud. To +see her hair was to fancy that a whole winter did not contain +darkness enough to form its shadow: it closed over her forehead +like nightfall extinguishing the western glow.</p> + +<p>Her nerves extended into those tresses, and her temper could +always be softened by stroking them down. When her hair was +brushed she would instantly sink into stillness and look like the +Sphinx. If, in passing under one of the Egdon banks, any of its +thick skeins were caught, as they sometimes were, by a prickly +tuft of the large <i>Ulex Europaeus</i>—which will act as a +sort of hairbrush—she would go back a few steps, and pass against +it a second time.</p> + +<p>She had pagan eyes, full of nocturnal mysteries, and their light, +as it came and went, and came again, was partially hampered by +their oppressive lids and lashes; and of these the under lid was +much fuller than it usually is with English women. This enabled +her to indulge in reverie without seeming to do so: she might have +been believed capable of sleeping without closing them up. +Assuming that the souls of men and women were visible essences, +you could fancy the colour of Eustacia's soul to be flame-like. The +sparks from it that rose into her dark pupils gave the same +impression.</p> + +<p>The mouth seemed formed less to speak than to quiver, less to +quiver than to kiss. Some might have added, less to kiss than to +curl. Viewed sideways, the closing-line of her lips formed, with +almost geometric precision, the curve so well known in the arts of +design as the cima-recta, or ogee. The sight of such a flexible +bend as that on grim Egdon was quite an apparition. It was felt at +once that the mouth did not come over from Sleswig with a band of +Saxon pirates whose lips met like the two halves of a muffin. One +had fancied that such lip-curves were mostly lurking underground +in the South as fragments of forgotten marbles. So fine were the +lines of her lips that, though full, each corner of her mouth was +as clearly cut as the point of a spear. This keenness of corner +was only blunted when she was given over to sudden fits of gloom, +one of the phases of the night-side of sentiment which she knew +too well for her years.</p> + +<p>Her presence brought memories of such things as Bourbon roses, +rubies, and tropical midnights; her moods recalled lotus-eaters and +the march in "Athalie"; her motions, the ebb and flow of the sea; +her voice, the viola. In a dim light, and with a slight +rearrangement of her hair, her general figure might have stood for +that of either of the higher female deities. The new moon behind +her head, an old helmet upon it, a diadem of accidental dewdrops +round her brow, would have been adjuncts sufficient to strike the +note of Artemis, Athena, or Hera respectively, with as close an +approximation to the antique as that which passes muster on many +respected canvases.</p> + +<p>But celestial imperiousness, love, wrath, and fervour had proved +to be somewhat thrown away on netherward Egdon. Her power was +limited, and the consciousness of this limitation had biassed her +development. Egdon was her Hades, and since coming there she had +imbibed much of what was dark in its tone, though inwardly and +eternally unreconciled thereto. Her appearance accorded well with +this smouldering rebelliousness, and the shady splendour of her +beauty was the real surface of the sad and stifled warmth within +her. A true Tartarean dignity sat upon her brow, and not +factitiously or with marks of constraint, for it had grown in her +with years.</p> + +<p>Across the upper part of her head she wore a thin fillet of black +velvet, restraining the luxuriance of her shady hair, in a way +which added much to this class of majesty by irregularly clouding +her forehead. "Nothing can embellish a beautiful face more than a +narrow band drawn over the brow," says Richter. Some of the +neighbouring girls wore coloured ribbon for the same purpose, and +sported metallic ornaments elsewhere; but if anyone suggested +coloured ribbon and metallic ornaments to Eustacia Vye she laughed +and went on.</p> + +<p>Why did a woman of this sort live on Egdon Heath? Budmouth was her +native place, a fashionable seaside resort at that date. She was +the daughter of the bandmaster of a regiment which had been +quartered there—a Corfiote by birth, and a fine musician—who met +his future wife during her trip thither with her father the +captain, a man of good family. The marriage was scarcely in accord +with the old man's wishes, for the bandmaster's pockets were as +light as his occupation. But the musician did his best; adopted +his wife's name, made England permanently his home, took great +trouble with his child's education, the expenses of which were +defrayed by the grandfather, and throve as the chief local +musician till her mother's death, when he left off thriving, +drank, and died also. The girl was left to the care of her +grandfather, who, since three of his ribs became broken in a +shipwreck, had lived in this airy perch on Egdon, a spot which had +taken his fancy because the house was to be had for next to +nothing, and because a remote blue tinge on the horizon between +the hills, visible from the cottage door, was traditionally +believed to be the English Channel. She hated the change; she felt +like one banished; but here she was forced to abide.</p> + +<p>Thus it happened that in Eustacia's brain were juxtaposed the +strangest assortment of ideas, from old time and from new. There +was no middle distance in her perspective: romantic recollections +of sunny afternoons on an esplanade, with military bands, +officers, and gallants around, stood like gilded letters upon the +dark tablet of surrounding Egdon. Every bizarre effect that could +result from the random intertwining of watering-place glitter with +the grand solemnity of a heath, was to be found in her. Seeing +nothing of human life now, she imagined all the more of what she +had seen.</p> + +<p>Where did her dignity come from? By a latent vein from Alcinous' +line, her father hailing from Phaeacia's isle?—or from Fitzalan +and De Vere, her maternal grandfather having had a cousin in the +peerage? Perhaps it was the gift of Heaven—a happy convergence of +natural laws. Among other things opportunity had of late years +been denied her of learning to be undignified, for she lived +lonely. Isolation on a heath renders vulgarity well-nigh +impossible. It would have been as easy for the heath-ponies, bats, +and snakes to be vulgar as for her. A narrow life in Budmouth +might have completely demeaned her.</p> + +<p>The only way to look queenly without realms or hearts to queen it +over is to look as if you had lost them; and Eustacia did that to +a triumph. In the captain's cottage she could suggest mansions she +had never seen. Perhaps that was because she frequented a vaster +mansion than any of them, the open hills. Like the summer +condition of the place around her, she was an embodiment of the +phrase "a populous solitude"—apparently so listless, void, and +quiet, she was really busy and full.</p> + +<p>To be loved to madness—such was her great desire. Love was to her +the one cordial which could drive away the eating loneliness of +her days. And she seemed to long for the abstraction called +passionate love more than for any particular lover.</p> + +<p>She could show a most reproachful look at times, but it was +directed less against human beings than against certain creatures +of her mind, the chief of these being Destiny, through whose +interference she dimly fancied it arose that love alighted only on +gliding youth—that any love she might win would sink +simultaneously with the sand in the glass. She thought of it with +an ever-growing consciousness of cruelty, which tended to breed +actions of reckless unconventionality, framed to snatch a year's, +a week's, even an hour's passion from anywhere while it could be +won. Through want of it she had sung without being merry, +possessed without enjoying, outshone without triumphing. Her +loneliness deepened her desire. On Egdon, coldest and meanest +kisses were at famine prices; and where was a mouth matching hers +to be found?</p> + +<p>Fidelity in love for fidelity's sake had less attraction for her +than for most women: fidelity because of love's grip had much. A +blaze of love, and extinction, was better than a lantern glimmer +of the same which should last long years. On this head she knew by +prevision what most women learn only by experience: she had +mentally walked round love, told the towers thereof, considered +its palaces, and concluded that love was but a doleful joy. Yet +she desired it, as one in a desert would be thankful for brackish +water.</p> + +<p>She often repeated her prayers; not at particular times, but, like +the unaffectedly devout, when she desired to pray. Her prayer was +always spontaneous, and often ran thus, "O deliver my heart from +this fearful gloom and loneliness; send me great love from +somewhere, else I shall die."</p> + +<p>Her high gods were William the Conqueror, Strafford, and Napoleon +Buonaparte, as they had appeared in the Lady's History used at the +establishment in which she was educated. Had she been a mother she +would have christened her boys such names as Saul or Sisera in +preference to Jacob or David, neither of whom she admired. At +school she had used to side with the Philistines in several +battles, and had wondered if Pontius Pilate were as handsome as he +was frank and fair.</p> + +<p>Thus she was a girl of some forwardness of mind, indeed, weighed +in relation to her situation among the very rearward of thinkers, +very original. Her instincts towards social non-comformity were at +the root of this. In the matter of holidays, her mood was that of +horses who, when turned out to grass, enjoy looking upon their +kind at work on the highway. She only valued rest to herself when +it came in the midst of other people's labour. Hence she hated +Sundays when all was at rest, and often said they would be the +death of her. To see the heathmen in their Sunday condition, that +is, with their hands in their pockets, their boots newly oiled, +and not laced up (a particularly Sunday sign), walking leisurely +among the turves and furze-faggots they had cut during the week, +and kicking them critically as if their use were unknown, was a +fearful heaviness to her. To relieve the tedium of this untimely +day she would overhaul the cupboards containing her grandfather's +old charts and other rubbish, humming Saturday-night ballads of +the country people the while. But on Saturday nights she would +frequently sing a psalm, and it was always on a week-day that she +read the Bible, that she might be unoppressed with a sense of +doing her duty.</p> + +<p>Such views of life were to some extent the natural begettings of +her situation upon her nature. To dwell on a heath without +studying its meanings was like wedding a foreigner without +learning his tongue. The subtle beauties of the heath were lost to +Eustacia; she only caught its vapours. An environment which would +have made a contented woman a poet, a suffering woman a devotee, a +pious woman a psalmist, even a giddy woman thoughtful, made a +rebellious woman saturnine.</p> + +<p>Eustacia had got beyond the vision of some marriage of +inexpressible glory; yet, though her emotions were in full vigour, +she cared for no meaner union. Thus we see her in a strange state +of isolation. To have lost the godlike conceit that we may do what +we will, and not to have acquired a homely zest for doing what we +can, shows a grandeur of temper which cannot be objected to in the +abstract, for it denotes a mind that, though disappointed, +forswears compromise. But, if congenial to philosophy, it is apt +to be dangerous to the commonwealth. In a world where doing means +marrying, and the commonwealth is one of hearts and hands, the +same peril attends the condition.</p> + +<p>And so we see our Eustacia—for at times she was not altogether +unlovable—arriving at that stage of enlightenment which feels +that nothing is worth while, and filling up the spare hours of her +existence by idealizing Wildeve for want of a better object. This +was the sole reason of his ascendency: she knew it herself. At +moments her pride rebelled against her passion for him, and she +even had longed to be free. But there was only one circumstance +which could dislodge him, and that was the advent of a greater +man.</p> + +<p>For the rest, she suffered much from depression of spirits, and +took slow walks to recover them, in which she carried her +grandfather's telescope and her grandmother's hourglass—the +latter because of a peculiar pleasure she derived from watching a +material representation of time's gradual glide away. She seldom +schemed, but when she did scheme, her plans showed rather the +comprehensive strategy of a general than the small arts called +womanish, though she could utter oracles of Delphian ambiguity +when she did not choose to be direct. In heaven she will probably +sit between the Héloïses and the Cleopatras.</p> + + +<p><a name="1-8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII</h3> +<h3>Those Who Are Found Where There Is Said to Be Nobody<br /> </h3> + + +<p>As soon as the sad little boy had withdrawn from the fire he +clasped the money tight in the palm of his hand, as if thereby to +fortify his courage, and began to run. There was really little +danger in allowing a child to go home alone on this part of Egdon +Heath. The distance to the boy's house was not more than +three-eighths of a mile, his father's cottage, and one other a few +yards further on, forming part of the small hamlet of Mistover +Knap: the third and only remaining house was that of Captain Vye +and Eustacia, which stood quite away from the small +cottages, and was the loneliest of lonely houses on these +thinly populated slopes.</p> + +<p>He ran until he was out of breath, and then, becoming more +courageous, walked leisurely along, singing in an old voice a +little song about a sailor-boy and a fair one, and bright gold in +store. In the middle of this the child stopped: from a pit under +the hill ahead of him shone a light, whence proceeded a cloud of +floating dust and a smacking noise.</p> + +<p>Only unusual sights and sounds frightened the boy. The shrivelled +voice of the heath did not alarm him, for that was familiar. The +thorn-bushes which arose in his path from time to time were less +satisfactory, for they whistled gloomily, and had a ghastly habit +after dark of putting on the shapes of jumping madmen, sprawling +giants, and hideous cripples. Lights were not uncommon this +evening, but the nature of all of them was different from this. +Discretion rather than terror prompted the boy to turn back +instead of passing the light, with a view of asking Miss Eustacia +Vye to let her servant accompany him home.</p> + +<p>When the boy had reascended to the top of the valley he found the +fire to be still burning on the bank, though lower than before. +Beside it, instead of Eustacia's solitary form, he saw two +persons, the second being a man. The boy crept along under the +bank to ascertain from the nature of the proceedings if it would +be prudent to interrupt so splendid a creature as Miss Eustacia on +his poor trivial account.</p> + +<p>After listening under the bank for some minutes to the talk he +turned in a perplexed and doubting manner and began to withdraw as +silently as he had come. That he did not, upon the whole, think it +advisable to interrupt her conversation with Wildeve, without +being prepared to bear the whole weight of her displeasure, was +obvious.</p> + +<p>Here was a Scyllaeo-Charybdean position for a poor +boy. Pausing when again safe from discovery, he finally decided to +face the pit phenomenon as the lesser evil. With a heavy sigh he +retraced the slope, and followed the path he had followed before.</p> + +<p>The light had gone, the rising dust had disappeared—he hoped for +ever. He marched resolutely along, and found nothing to alarm him +till, coming within a few yards of the sandpit, he heard a slight +noise in front, which led him to halt. The halt was but momentary, +for the noise resolved itself into the steady bites of two animals +grazing.</p> + +<p>"Two he'th-croppers down here," he said aloud. "I have never known +'em come down so far afore."</p> + +<p>The animals were in the direct line of his path, but that the +child thought little of; he had played round the fetlocks of +horses from his infancy. On coming nearer, however, the boy was +somewhat surprised to find that the little creatures did not run +off, and that each wore a clog, to prevent his going astray; this +signified that they had been broken in. He could now see the +interior of the pit, which, being in the side of the hill, had a +level entrance. In the innermost corner the square outline of a +van appeared, with its back towards him. A light came from the +interior, and threw a moving shadow upon the vertical face of +gravel at the further side of the pit into which the vehicle +faced.</p> + +<p>The child assumed that this was the cart of a gipsy, and his dread +of those wanderers reached but to that mild pitch which titillates +rather than pains. Only a few inches of mud wall kept him and his +family from being gipsies themselves. He skirted the gravel-pit at +a respectful distance, ascended the slope, and came forward upon +the brow, in order to look into the open door of the van and see +the original of the shadow.</p> + +<p>The picture alarmed the boy. By a little stove inside the van sat +a figure red from head to heels—the man who had been Thomasin's +friend. He was darning a stocking, which was red like the rest of +him. Moreover, as he darned he smoked a pipe, the stem and bowl of +which were red also.</p> + +<p>At this moment one of the heath-croppers feeding in the outer +shadows was audibly shaking off the clog attached to its foot. +Aroused by the sound the reddleman laid down his stocking, lit a +lantern which hung beside him, and came out from the van. In +sticking up the candle he lifted the lantern to his face, and the +light shone into the whites of his eyes and upon his ivory teeth, +which, in contrast with the red surrounding, lent him a startling +aspect enough to the gaze of a juvenile. The boy knew too well for +his peace of mind upon whose lair he had lighted. Uglier persons +than gipsies were known to cross Egdon at times, and a reddleman +was one of them.</p> + +<p>"How I wish 'twas only a gipsy!" he murmured.</p> + +<p>The man was by this time coming back from the horses. In his fear +of being seen the boy rendered detection certain by nervous +motion. The heather and peat stratum overhung the brow of the pit +in mats, hiding the actual verge. The boy had stepped beyond the +solid ground; the heather now gave way, and down he rolled over +the scarp of grey sand to the very foot of the man.</p> + +<p>The red man opened the lantern and turned it upon the figure of +the prostrate boy.</p> + +<p>"Who be ye?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Johnny Nunsuch, master!"</p> + +<p>"What were you doing up there?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Watching me, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, master."</p> + +<p>"What did you watch me for?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was coming home from Miss Vye's bonfire."</p> + +<p>"Beest hurt?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, you be: your hand is bleeding. Come under my tilt and +let me tie it up."</p> + +<p>"Please let me look for my sixpence."</p> + +<p>"How did you come by that?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Vye gied it to me for keeping up her bonfire."</p> + +<p>The sixpence was found, and the man went to the van, the boy +behind, almost holding his breath.</p> + +<p>The man took a piece of rag from a satchel containing sewing +materials, tore off a strip, which, like everything else, was +tinged red, and proceeded to bind up the wound.</p> + +<p>"My eyes have got foggy-like—please may I sit down, master?" said +the boy.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, poor chap. 'Tis enough to make you feel fainty. Sit +on that bundle."</p> + +<p>The man finished tying up the gash, and the boy said, "I think +I'll go home now, master."</p> + +<p>"You are rather afraid of me. Do you know what I be?"</p> + +<p>The child surveyed his vermilion figure up and down with much +misgiving and finally said, "Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, what?"</p> + +<p>"The reddleman!" he faltered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's what I be. Though there's more than one. You little +children think there's only one cuckoo, one fox, one giant, one +devil, and one reddleman, when there's lots of us all."</p> + +<p>"Is there? You won't carry me off in your bags, will ye, master? +'Tis said that the reddleman will sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. All that reddlemen do is sell reddle. You see all these +bags at the back of my cart? They are not full of little +boys—only full of red stuff."</p> + +<p>"Was you born a reddleman?"</p> + +<p>"No, I took to it. I should be as white as you if I were to give +up the trade—that is, I should be white in time—perhaps six +months: not at first, because 'tis grow'd into my skin and won't +wash out. Now, you'll never be afraid of a reddleman again, will +ye?"</p> + +<p>"No, never. Willy Orchard said he seed a red ghost here t'other +day—perhaps that was you?"</p> + +<p>"I was here t'other day."</p> + +<p>"Were you making that dusty light I saw by now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes: I was beating out some bags. And have you had a good +bonfire up there? I saw the light. Why did Miss Vye want a bonfire +so bad that she should give you sixpence to keep it up?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I was tired, but she made me bide and keep up the +fire just the same, while she kept going up across Rainbarrow +way."</p> + +<p>"And how long did that last?"</p> + +<p>"Until a hopfrog jumped into the pond."</p> + +<p>The reddleman suddenly ceased to talk idly. "A hopfrog?" he +inquired. "Hopfrogs don't jump into ponds this time of year."</p> + +<p>"They do, for I heard one."</p> + +<p>"Certain-sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She told me afore that I should hear'n; and so I did. They +say she's clever and deep, and perhaps she charmed 'en to come."</p> + +<p>"And what then?"</p> + +<p>"Then I came down here, and I was afeard, and I went back; but I +didn't like to speak to her, because of the gentleman, and I came +on here again."</p> + +<p>"A gentleman—ah! What did she say to him, my man?"</p> + +<p>"Told him she supposed he had not married the other woman because +he liked his old sweetheart best; and things like that."</p> + +<p>"What did the gentleman say to her, my sonny?"</p> + +<p>"He only said he did like her best, and how he was coming to see +her again under Rainbarrow o' nights."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" cried the reddleman, slapping his hand against the side of +his van so that the whole fabric shook under the blow. "That's the +secret o't!"</p> + +<p>The little boy jumped clean from the stool.</p> + +<p>"My man, don't you be afraid," said the dealer in red, suddenly +becoming gentle. "I forgot you were here. That's only a curious +way reddlemen have of going mad for a moment; but they don't hurt +anybody. And what did the lady say then?"</p> + +<p>"I can't mind. Please, Master Reddleman, may I go home-along now?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, to be sure you may. I'll go a bit of ways with you."</p> + +<p>He conducted the boy out of the gravel-pit and into the path +leading to his mother's cottage. When the little figure had +vanished in the darkness the reddleman returned, resumed his seat +by the fire, and proceeded to darn again.</p> + + +<p><a name="1-9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IX</h3> +<h3>Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Reddlemen of the old school are now but seldom seen. Since the +introduction of railways Wessex farmers have managed to do without +these Mephistophelian visitants, and the bright pigment so largely +used by shepherds in preparing sheep for the fair is obtained by +other routes. Even those who yet survive are losing the poetry of +existence which characterized them when the pursuit of the trade +meant periodical journeys to the pit whence the material was dug, +a regular camping out from month to month, except in the depth of +winter, a peregrination among farms which could be counted by the +hundred, and in spite of this Arab existence the preservation of +that respectability which is insured by the never-failing +production of a well-lined purse.</p> + +<p>Reddle spreads its lively hues over everything it lights on, and +stamps unmistakably, as with the mark of Cain, any person who has +handled it half an hour.</p> + +<p>A child's first sight of a reddleman was an epoch in his life. +That blood-coloured figure was a sublimation of all the horrid +dreams which had afflicted the juvenile spirit since imagination +began. "The reddleman is coming for you!" had been the formulated +threat of Wessex mothers for many generations. He was successfully +supplanted for a while, at the beginning of the present century, +by Buonaparte; but as process of time rendered the latter +personage stale and ineffective the older phrase resumed its early +prominence. And now the reddleman has in his turn followed +Buonaparte to the land of worn-out bogeys, and his place is filled +by modern inventions.</p> + +<p>The reddleman lived like a gipsy; but gipsies he scorned. He was +about as thriving as travelling basket and mat makers; but he had +nothing to do with them. He was more decently born and brought up +than the cattle-drovers who passed and repassed him in his +wanderings; but they merely nodded to him. His stock was more +valuable than that of pedlars; but they did not think so, and +passed his cart with eyes straight ahead. He was such an unnatural +colour to look at that the men of round-abouts and wax-work shows +seemed gentlemen beside him; but he considered them low company, +and remained aloof. Among all these squatters and folks of the +road the reddleman continually found himself; yet he was not of +them. His occupation tended to isolate him, and isolated he was +mostly seen to be.</p> + +<p>It was sometimes suggested that reddlemen were criminals for whose +misdeeds other men had wrongfully suffered: that in escaping the law +they had not escaped their own consciences, and had taken to the +trade as a lifelong penance. Else why should they have chosen it? +In the present case such a question would have been particularly +apposite. The reddleman who had entered Egdon that afternoon was +an instance of the pleasing being wasted to form the ground-work +of the singular, when an ugly foundation would have done just as +well for that purpose. The one point that was forbidding about +this reddleman was his colour. Freed from that he would have been +as agreeable a specimen of rustic manhood as one would often see. +A keen observer might have been inclined to think—which was, +indeed, partly the truth—that he had relinquished his proper +station in life for want of interest in it. Moreover, after +looking at him one would have hazarded the guess that good-nature, +and an acuteness as extreme as it could be without verging on +craft, formed the frame-work of his character.</p> + +<p>While he darned the stocking his face became rigid with thought. +Softer expressions followed this, and then again recurred the +tender sadness which had sat upon him during his drive along the +highway that afternoon. Presently his needle stopped. He laid down +the stocking, arose from his seat, and took a leather pouch from +a hook in the corner of the van. This contained among other +articles a brown-paper packet, which, to judge from the hinge-like +character of its worn folds, seemed to have been carefully opened +and closed a good many times. He sat down on a three-legged +milking stool that formed the only seat in the van, and, examining +his packet by the light of a candle, took thence an old letter and +spread it open. The writing had originally been traced on white +paper, but the letter had now assumed a pale red tinge from the +accident of its situation; and the black strokes of writing +thereon looked like the twigs of a winter hedge against a +vermilion sunset. The letter bore a date some two years previous +to that time, and was signed "Thomasin Yeobright." It ran as +follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear +Diggory Venn</span>,—The +question you put when you overtook me +coming home from Pond-close gave me such a surprise that I am +afraid I did not make you exactly understand what I meant. Of +course, if my aunt had not met me I could have explained all then +at once, but as it was there was no chance. I have been quite +uneasy since, as you know I do not wish to pain you, yet I fear I +shall be doing so now in contradicting what I seemed to say then. +I cannot, Diggory, marry you, or think of letting you call me your +sweetheart. I could not, indeed, Diggory. I hope you will not much +mind my saying this, and feel in a great pain. It makes me very +sad when I think it may, for I like you very much, and I always +put you next to my cousin Clym in my mind. There are so many +reasons why we cannot be married that I can hardly name them all +in a letter. I did not in the least expect that you were going to +speak on such a thing when you followed me, because I had never +thought of you in the sense of a lover at all. You must not becall +me for laughing when you spoke; you mistook when you thought I +laughed at you as a foolish man. I laughed because the idea was so +odd, and not at you at all. The great reason with my own personal +self for not letting you court me is, that I do not feel the +things a woman ought to feel who consents to walk with you with +the meaning of being your wife. It is not as you think, that I +have another in my mind, for I do not encourage anybody, and never +have in my life. Another reason is my aunt. She would not, I know, +agree to it, even if I wished to have you. She likes you very +well, but she will want me to look a little higher than a small +dairy-farmer, and marry a professional man. I hope you will not +set your heart against me for writing plainly, but I felt you +might try to see me again, and it is better that we should not +meet. I shall always think of you as a good man, and be anxious +for your well-doing. I send this by Jane Orchard's little +maid,—And remain Diggory, your faithful friend,</p> + +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Thomasin +Yeobright </span></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">To Mr. Venn</span>, +Dairy-farmer<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Since the arrival of that letter, on a certain autumn morning long +ago, the reddleman and Thomasin had not met till today. During the +interval he had shifted his position even further from hers than +it had originally been, by adopting the reddle trade; though he +was really in very good circumstances still. Indeed, seeing that +his expenditure was only one-fourth of his income, he might have +been called a prosperous man.</p> + +<p>Rejected suitors take to roaming as naturally as unhived bees; and +the business to which he had cynically devoted himself was in many +ways congenial to Venn. But his wanderings, by mere stress of old +emotions, had frequently taken an Egdon direction, though he never +intruded upon her who attracted him thither. To be in Thomasin's +heath, and near her, yet unseen, was the one ewe-lamb of pleasure +left to him.</p> + +<p>Then came the incident of that day, and the reddleman, still +loving her well, was excited by this accidental service to her at +a critical juncture to vow an active devotion to her cause, +instead of, as hitherto, sighing and holding aloof. After what had +happened, it was impossible that he should not doubt the honesty of +Wildeve's intentions. But her hope was apparently centred upon +him; and dismissing his regrets Venn determined to aid her to be +happy in her own chosen way. That this way was, of all others, the +most distressing to himself, was awkward enough; but the +reddleman's love was generous.</p> + +<p>His first active step in watching over Thomasin's interests was +taken about seven o'clock the next evening, and was dictated by the +news which he had learnt from the sad boy. That Eustacia was +somehow the cause of Wildeve's carelessness in relation to the +marriage had at once been Venn's conclusion on hearing of the +secret meeting between them. It did not occur to his mind that +Eustacia's love-signal to Wildeve was the tender effect upon the +deserted beauty of the intelligence which her grandfather had +brought home. His instinct was to regard her as a conspirator +against rather than as an antecedent obstacle to Thomasin's +happiness.</p> + +<p>During the day he had been exceedingly anxious to learn the +condition of Thomasin; but he did not venture to intrude upon a +threshold to which he was a stranger, particularly at such an +unpleasant moment as this. He had occupied his time in moving with +his ponies and load to a new point in the heath, eastward to his +previous station; and here he selected a nook with a careful eye +to shelter from wind and rain, which seemed to mean that his stay +there was to be a comparatively extended one. After this he +returned on foot some part of the way that he had come; and, it +being now dark, he diverged to the left till he stood behind a +holly-bush on the edge of a pit not twenty yards from Rainbarrow.</p> + +<p>He watched for a meeting there, but he watched in vain. Nobody +except himself came near the spot that night.</p> + +<p>But the loss of his labour produced little effect upon the +reddleman. He had stood in the shoes of Tantalus, and seemed to +look upon a certain mass of disappointment as the natural preface +to all realizations, without which preface they would give cause +for alarm.</p> + +<p>The same hour the next evening found him again at the same place; +but Eustacia and Wildeve, the expected trysters, did not appear.</p> + +<p>He pursued precisely the same course yet four nights longer, and +without success. But on the next, being the day-week of their +previous meeting, he saw a female shape floating along the ridge +and the outline of a young man ascending from the valley. They met +in the little ditch encircling the tumulus—the original +excavation from which it had been thrown up by the ancient British +people.</p> + +<p>The reddleman, stung with suspicion of wrong to Thomasin, was +aroused to strategy in a moment. He instantly left the bush and +crept forward on his hands and knees. When he had got as close as +he might safely venture without discovery he found that, owing to +a cross-wind, the conversation of the trysting pair could not be +overheard.</p> + +<p>Near him, as in divers places about the heath, were areas strewn +with large turves, which lay edgeways and upside down awaiting +removal by Timothy Fairway, previous to the winter weather. He +took two of these as he lay, and dragged them over him till one +covered his head and shoulders, the other his back and legs. The +reddleman would now have been quite invisible, even by daylight; +the turves, standing upon him with the heather upwards, looked +precisely as if they were growing. He crept along again, and the +turves upon his back crept with him. Had he approached without any +covering the chances are that he would not have been perceived in +the dusk; approaching thus, it was as though he burrowed +underground. In this manner he came quite close to where the two +were standing.</p> + +<p>"Wish to consult me on the matter?" reached his ears in the rich, +impetuous accents of Eustacia Vye. "Consult me? It is an indignity +to me to talk so: I won't bear it any longer!" She began weeping. +"I have loved you, and have shown you that I loved you, much to my +regret; and yet you can come and say in that frigid way that you +wish to consult with me whether it would not be better to marry +Thomasin. Better—of course it would be. Marry her: she is nearer +to your own position in life than I am!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; that's very well," said Wildeve peremptorily. "But we +must look at things as they are. Whatever blame may attach to me +for having brought it about, Thomasin's position is at present +much worse than yours. I simply tell you that I am in a strait."</p> + +<p>"But you shall not tell me! You must see that it is only harassing +me. Damon, you have not acted well; you have sunk in my opinion. +You have not valued my courtesy—the courtesy of a lady in loving +you—who used to think of far more ambitious things. But it was +Thomasin's fault. She won you away from me, and she deserves +to suffer for it. Where +is she staying now? Not that I care, nor where I am myself. Ah, if +I were dead and gone how glad she would be! Where is she, I ask?"</p> + +<p>"Thomasin is now staying at her aunt's shut up in a bedroom, and +keeping out of everybody's sight," he said indifferently.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you care much about her even now," said Eustacia +with sudden joyousness: "for if you did you wouldn't talk so +coolly about her. Do you talk so coolly to her about me? Ah, I +expect you do! Why did you originally go away from me? I don't +think I can ever forgive you, except on one condition, that +whenever you desert me, you come back again, sorry that you served +me so."</p> + +<p>"I never wish to desert you."</p> + +<p>"I do not thank you for that. I should hate it to be all smooth. +Indeed, I think I like you to desert me a little once now and +then. Love is the dismallest thing where the lover is quite +honest. O, it is a shame to say so; but it is true!" She indulged +in a little laugh. "My low spirits begin at the very idea. Don't +you offer me tame love, or away you go!"</p> + +<p>"I wish Tamsie were not such a confoundedly good little woman," +said Wildeve, "so that I could be faithful to you without injuring +a worthy person. It is I who am the sinner after all; I am not +worth the little finger of either of you."</p> + +<p>"But you must not sacrifice yourself to her from any sense of +justice," replied Eustacia quickly. "If you do not love her it is +the most merciful thing in the long run to leave her as she is. +That's always the best way. There, now I have been unwomanly, I +suppose. When you have left me I am always angry with myself for +things that I have said to you."</p> + +<p>Wildeve walked a pace or two among the heather without replying. +The pause was filled up by the intonation of a pollard thorn a +little way to windward, the breezes filtering through its +unyielding twigs as through a strainer. It was as if the night +sang dirges with clenched teeth.</p> + +<p>She continued, half sorrowfully, "Since meeting you last, it has +occurred to me once or twice that perhaps it was not for love of +me you did not marry her. Tell me, Damon: I'll try to bear it. Had +I nothing whatever to do with the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Do you press me to tell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I must know. I see I have been too ready to believe in my +own power."</p> + +<p>"Well, the immediate reason was that the license would not do for +the place, and before I could get another she ran away. Up to that +point you had nothing to do with it. Since then her aunt has +spoken to me in a tone which I don't at all like."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! I am nothing in it—I am nothing in it. You only trifle +with me. Heaven, what can I, Eustacia Vye, be made of to think so +much of you!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense; do not be so passionate… Eustacia, how we roved +among these bushes last year, when the hot days had got cool, and the +shades of the hills kept us almost invisible in the hollows!"</p> + +<p>She remained in moody silence till she said, "Yes; and how I used +to laugh at you for daring to look up to me! But you have well +made me suffer for that since."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you served me cruelly enough until I thought I had found +some one fairer than you. A blessed find for me, Eustacia."</p> + +<p>"Do you still think you found somebody fairer?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. The scales are balanced so +nicely that a feather would turn them."</p> + +<p>"But don't you really care whether I meet you or whether I don't?" +she said slowly.</p> + +<p>"I care a little, but not enough to break my rest," replied the +young man languidly. "No, all that's past. I find there are two +flowers where I thought there was only one. Perhaps there are +three, or four, or any number as good as the first… Mine is a +curious fate. Who would have thought that all this could happen to +me?"</p> + +<p>She interrupted with a suppressed fire of which either love or +anger seemed an equally possible issue, "Do you love me now?"</p> + +<p>"Who can say?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me; I will know it!"</p> + +<p>"I do, and I do not," said he mischievously. "That is, I have my +times and my seasons. One moment you are too tall, another moment +you are too do-nothing, another too melancholy, another too dark, +another I don't know what, except—that you are not the whole +world to me that you used to be, my dear. But you are a pleasant +lady to know, and nice to meet, and I dare say as sweet as +ever—almost."</p> + +<p>Eustacia was silent, and she turned from him, till she said, in a +voice of suspended mightiness, "I am for a walk, and this is my +way."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can do worse than follow you."</p> + +<p>"You know you can't do otherwise, for all your moods and changes!" +she answered defiantly. "Say what you will; try as you may; keep +away from me all that you can—you will never forget me. You will +love me all your life long. You would jump to marry me!"</p> + +<p>"So I would!" said Wildeve. "Such strange thoughts as I've had +from time to time, Eustacia; and they come to me this moment. You +hate the heath as much as ever; that I know."</p> + +<p>"I do," she murmured deeply. "'Tis my cross, my shame, and will be +my death!"</p> + +<p>"I abhor it too," said he. "How mournfully the wind blows round us +now!"</p> + +<p>She did not answer. Its tone was indeed solemn and pervasive. +Compound utterances addressed themselves to their senses, and it +was possible to view by ear the features of the neighbourhood. +Acoustic pictures were returned from the darkened scenery; they +could hear where the tracts of heather began and ended; where the +furze was growing stalky and tall; where it had been recently cut; +in what direction the fir-clump lay, and how near was the pit in +which the hollies grew; for these differing features had their +voices no less than their shapes and colours.</p> + +<p>"God, how lonely it is!" resumed Wildeve. "What are picturesque +ravines and mists to us who see nothing else? Why should we stay +here? Will you go with me to America? I have kindred in +Wisconsin."</p> + +<p>"That wants consideration."</p> + +<p>"It seems impossible to do well here, unless one were a wild bird +or a landscape-painter. Well?"</p> + +<p>"Give me time," she softly said, taking his hand. "America is so +far away. Are you going to walk with me a little way?"</p> + +<p>As Eustacia uttered the latter words she retired from the base of +the barrow, and Wildeve followed her, so that the reddleman could +hear no more.</p> + +<p>He lifted the turves and arose. Their black figures sank and +disappeared from against the sky. They were as two horns which the +sluggish heath had put forth from its crown, like a mollusc, and +had now again drawn in.</p> + +<p>The reddleman's walk across the vale, and over into the next where +his cart lay, was not sprightly for a slim young fellow of +twenty-four. His spirit was perturbed to aching. The breezes that +blew around his mouth in that walk carried off upon them the +accents of a commination.</p> + +<p>He entered the van, where there was a fire in a stove. Without +lighting his candle he sat down at once on the three-legged stool, +and pondered on what he had seen and heard touching that +still loved-one of his. He uttered a sound which was neither sigh +nor sob, but was even more indicative than either of a troubled +mind.</p> + +<p>"My Tamsie," he whispered heavily. "What can be done? Yes, I will +see that Eustacia Vye."</p> + + +<p><a name="1-10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>X</h3> +<h3>A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The next morning, at the time when the height of the sun appeared +very insignificant from any part of the heath as compared with the +altitude of Rainbarrow, and when all the little hills in the lower +levels were like an archipelago in a fog-formed Aegean, the +reddleman came from the brambled nook which he had adopted as his +quarters and ascended the slopes of Mistover Knap.</p> + +<p>Though these shaggy hills were apparently so solitary, several +keen round eyes were always ready on such a wintry morning as this +to converge upon a passer-by. Feathered species sojourned here in +hiding which would have created wonder if found elsewhere. A +bustard haunted the spot, and not many years before this five and +twenty might have been seen in Egdon at one time. Marsh-harriers +looked up from the valley by Wildeve's. A cream-coloured courser +had used to visit this hill, a bird so rare that not more than a +dozen have ever been seen in England; but a barbarian rested +neither night nor day till he had shot the African truant, and +after that event cream-coloured coursers thought fit to enter +Egdon no more.</p> + +<p>A traveller who should walk and observe any of these visitants as +Venn observed them now could feel himself to be in direct +communication with regions unknown to man. Here in front of him +was a wild mallard—just arrived from the home of the north wind. +The creature brought within him an amplitude of Northern +knowledge. Glacial catastrophes, snowstorm episodes, glittering +auroral effects, Polaris in the zenith, Franklin underfoot,—the +category of his commonplaces was wonderful. But the bird, like +many other philosophers, seemed as he looked at the reddleman to +think that a present moment of comfortable reality was worth a +decade of memories.</p> + +<p>Venn passed on through these towards the house of the isolated +beauty who lived up among them and despised them. The day was +Sunday; but as going to church, except to be married or buried, +was exceptional at Egdon, this made little difference. He had +determined upon the bold stroke of asking for an interview with +Miss Vye—to attack her position as Thomasin's rival either by art +or by storm, showing therein, somewhat too conspicuously, the want +of gallantry characteristic of a certain astute sort of men, from +clowns to kings. The great Frederick making war on the beautiful +Archduchess, Napoleon refusing terms to the beautiful Queen of +Prussia, were not more dead to difference of sex than the +reddleman was, in his peculiar way, in planning the displacement +of Eustacia.</p> + +<p>To call at the captain's cottage was always more or less an +undertaking for the inferior inhabitants. Though occasionally +chatty, his moods were erratic, and nobody could be certain how he +would behave at any particular moment. Eustacia was reserved, and +lived very much to herself. Except the daughter of one of the +cotters, who was their servant, and a lad who worked in the garden +and stable, scarcely anyone but themselves ever entered the house. +They were the only genteel people of the district except the +Yeobrights, and though far from rich, they did not feel that +necessity for preserving a friendly face towards every man, bird, +and beast which influenced their poorer neighbours.</p> + +<p>When the reddleman entered the garden the old man was looking +through his glass at the stain of blue sea in the distant +landscape, the little anchors on his buttons twinkling in the sun. +He recognized Venn as his companion on the highway, but made no +remark on that circumstance, merely saying, "Ah, reddleman—you +here? Have a glass of grog?"</p> + +<p>Venn declined, on the plea of it being too early, and stated that +his business was with Miss Vye. The captain surveyed him from cap +to waistcoat and from waistcoat to leggings for a few moments, and +finally asked him to go indoors.</p> + +<p>Miss Vye was not to be seen by anybody just then; and the +reddleman waited in the window-bench of the kitchen, his hands +hanging across his divergent knees, and his cap hanging from his +hands.</p> + +<p>"I suppose the young lady is not up yet?" he presently said to the +servant.</p> + +<p>"Not quite yet. Folks never call upon ladies at this time of day."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll step outside," said Venn. "If she is willing to see me, +will she please send out word, and I'll come in."</p> + +<p>The reddleman left the house and loitered on the hill adjoining. A +considerable time elapsed, and no request for his presence was +brought. He was beginning to think that his scheme had failed, +when he beheld the form of Eustacia herself coming leisurely +towards him. A sense of novelty in giving audience to that +singular figure had been sufficient to draw her forth.</p> + +<p>She seemed to feel, after a bare look at Diggory Venn, that the +man had come on a strange errand, and that he was not so mean as +she had thought him; for her close approach did not cause him to +writhe uneasily, or shift his feet, or show any of those little +signs which escape an ingenuous rustic at the advent of the +uncommon in womankind. On his inquiring if he might have a +conversation with her she replied, "Yes, walk beside me," and +continued to move on.</p> + +<p>Before they had gone far it occurred to the perspicacious +reddleman that he would have acted more wisely by appearing less +unimpressionable, and he resolved to correct the error as soon as +he could find opportunity.</p> + +<p>"I have made so bold, miss, as to step across and tell you some +strange news which has come to my ears about that man."</p> + +<p>"Ah! what man?"</p> + +<p>He jerked his elbow to the south-east—the direction of the Quiet +Woman.</p> + +<p>Eustacia turned quickly to him. "Do you mean Mr. Wildeve?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is trouble in a household on account of him, and I +have come to let you know of it, because I believe you might have +power to drive it away."</p> + +<p>"I? What is the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"It is quite a secret. It is that he may refuse to marry Thomasin +Yeobright after all."</p> + +<p>Eustacia, though set inwardly pulsing by his words, was equal to +her part in such a drama as this. She replied coldly, "I do not +wish to listen to this, and you must not expect me to interfere."</p> + +<p>"But, miss, you will hear one word?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot. I am not interested in the marriage, and even if I were +I could not compel Mr. Wildeve to do my bidding."</p> + +<p>"As the only lady on the heath I think you might," said Venn with +subtle indirectness. "This is how the case stands. Mr. Wildeve +would marry Thomasin at once, and make all matters smooth, if so +be there were not another woman in the case. This other woman is +some person he has picked up with, and meets on the heath +occasionally, I believe. He will never marry her, and yet through +her he may never marry the woman who loves him dearly. Now, if +you, miss, who have so much sway over us men-folk, were to insist +that he should treat your young neighbour Tamsin with honourable +kindness and give up the other woman, he would perhaps do it, and +save her a good deal of misery."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my life!" said Eustacia, with a laugh which unclosed her lips +so that the sun shone into her mouth as into a tulip, and lent it +a similar scarlet fire. "You think too much of my influence over +men-folk indeed, reddleman. If I had such a power as you imagine I +would go straight and use it for the good of anybody who has been +kind to me—which Thomasin Yeobright has not particularly, to my +knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Can it be that you really don't know of it—how much she had +always thought of you?"</p> + +<p>"I have never heard a word of it. Although we live only two miles +apart I have never been inside her aunt's house in my life."</p> + +<p>The superciliousness that lurked in her manner told Venn that thus +far he had utterly failed. He inwardly sighed and felt it +necessary to unmask his second argument.</p> + +<p>"Well, leaving that out of the question, 'tis in your power, I +assure you, Miss Vye, to do a great deal of good to another +woman."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Your comeliness is law with Mr. Wildeve. It is law with all men +who see 'ee. They say, 'This well-favoured lady coming—what's her +name? How handsome!' Handsomer than Thomasin Yeobright," the +reddleman persisted, saying to himself, "God forgive a rascal for +lying!" And she was handsomer, but the reddleman was far from +thinking so. There was a certain obscurity in Eustacia's beauty, +and Venn's eye was not trained. In her winter dress, as now, she +was like the tiger-beetle, which, when observed in dull +situations, seems to be of the quietest neutral colour, but under +a full illumination blazes with dazzling splendour.</p> + +<p>Eustacia could not help replying, though conscious that she +endangered her dignity thereby. "Many women are lovelier than +Thomasin," she said, "so not much attaches to that."</p> + +<p>The reddleman suffered the wound and went on: "He is a man who +notices the looks of women, and you could twist him to your will +like withywind, if you only had the mind."</p> + +<p>"Surely what she cannot do who has been so much with him I cannot +do living up here away from him."</p> + +<p>The reddleman wheeled and looked her in the face. "Miss Vye!" he +said.</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that—as if you doubted me?" She spoke faintly, +and her breathing was quick. "The idea of your speaking in that +tone to me!" she added, with a forced smile of hauteur. "What +could have been in your mind to lead you to speak like that?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Vye, why should you make believe that you don't know this +man?—I know why, certainly. He is beneath you, and you are +ashamed."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>The reddleman had decided to play the card of truth. "I was at the +meeting by Rainbarrow last night and heard every word," he said. +"The woman that stands between Wildeve and Thomasin is yourself."</p> + +<p>It was a disconcerting lift of the curtain, and the mortification +of Candaules' wife glowed in her. The moment had arrived when her +lip would tremble in spite of herself, and when the gasp could no +longer be kept down.</p> + +<p>"I am unwell," she said hurriedly. "No—it is not that—I am not +in a humour to hear you further. Leave me, please."</p> + +<p>"I must speak, Miss Vye, in spite of paining you. What I would put +before you is this. However it may come about—whether she is to +blame, or you—her case is without doubt worse than yours. Your +giving up Mr. Wildeve will be a real advantage to you, for how +could you marry him? Now she cannot get off so easily—everybody +will blame her if she loses him. Then I ask you—not because her +right is best, but because her situation is worst—to give him up +to her."</p> + +<p>"No—I won't, I won't!" she said impetuously, quite forgetful of +her previous manner towards the reddleman as an underling. "Nobody +has ever been served so! It was going on well—I will not be +beaten down—by an inferior woman like her. It is very well for +you to come and plead for her, but is she not herself the cause of +all her own trouble? Am I not to show favour to any person I may +choose without asking permission of a parcel of cottagers? She has +come between me and my inclination, and now that she finds herself +rightly punished she gets you to plead for her!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed," said Venn earnestly, "she knows nothing whatever about +it. It is only I who ask you to give him up. It will be better for +her and you both. People will say bad things if they find out that +a lady secretly meets a man who has ill-used another woman."</p> + +<p>"I have <i>not</i> injured her—he was mine before he was hers! +He came back—because—because he liked me best!" she said wildly. +"But I lose all self-respect in talking to you. What am I giving +way to!"</p> + +<p>"I can keep secrets," said Venn gently. "You need not fear. I am +the only man who knows of your meetings with him. There is but one +thing more to speak of, and then I will be gone. I heard you say +to him that you hated living here—that Egdon Heath was a jail to +you."</p> + +<p>"I did say so. There is a sort of beauty in the scenery, I know; +but it is a jail to me. The man you mention does not save me from +that feeling, though he lives here. I should have cared nothing +for him had there been a better person near."</p> + +<p>The reddleman looked hopeful; after these words from her his third +attempt seemed promising. "As we have now opened our minds a bit, +miss," he said, "I'll tell you what I have got to propose. Since I +have taken to the reddle trade I travel a good deal, as you know."</p> + +<p>She inclined her head, and swept round so that her eyes rested in +the misty vale beneath them.</p> + +<p>"And in my travels I go near Budmouth. Now Budmouth is a wonderful +place—wonderful—a great salt sheening sea bending into the land +like a bow—thousands of gentlepeople walking up and down—bands +of music playing—officers by sea and officers by land walking +among the rest—out of every ten folks you meet nine of 'em in +love."</p> + +<p>"I know it," she said disdainfully. "I know Budmouth better than +you. I was born there. My father came to be a military musician +there from abroad. Ah, my soul, Budmouth! I wish I was there now."</p> + +<p>The reddleman was surprised to see how a slow fire could blaze on +occasion. "If you were, miss," he replied, "in a week's time you +would think no more of Wildeve than of one of those he'th-croppers +that we see yond. Now, I could get you there."</p> + +<p>"How?" said Eustacia, with intense curiosity in her heavy eyes.</p> + +<p>"My uncle has been for five and twenty years the trusty man of a +rich widow-lady who has a beautiful house facing the sea. This +lady has become old and lame, and she wants a young company-keeper +to read and sing to her, but can't get one to her mind to save her +life, though she've advertised in the papers, and tried half a +dozen. She would jump to get you, and uncle would make it all +easy."</p> + +<p>"I should have to work, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"No, not real work: you'd have a little to do, such as reading and +that. You would not be wanted till New Year's Day."</p> + +<p>"I knew it meant work," she said, drooping to languor again.</p> + +<p>"I confess there would be a trifle to do in the way of amusing +her; but though idle people might call it work, working people +would call it play. Think of the company and the life you'd lead, +miss; the gaiety you'd see, and the gentleman you'd marry. My +uncle is to inquire for a trustworthy young lady from the country, +as she don't like town girls."</p> + +<p>"It is to wear myself out to please her! and I won't go. O, if I +could live in a gay town as a lady should, and go my own ways, and +do my own doings, I'd give the wrinkled half of my life! Yes, +reddleman, that would I."</p> + +<p>"Help me to get Thomasin happy, miss, and the chance shall be +yours," urged her companion.</p> + +<p>"Chance—'tis no chance," she said proudly. "What can a poor man +like you offer me, indeed?—I am going indoors. I have nothing +more to say. Don't your horses want feeding, or your reddlebags +want mending, or don't you want to find buyers for your goods, +that you stay idling here like this?"</p> + +<p>Venn spoke not another word. With his hands behind him he turned +away, that she might not see the hopeless disappointment in his +face. The mental clearness and power he had found in this lonely +girl had indeed filled his manner with misgiving even from the +first few minutes of close quarters with her. Her youth and +situation had led him to expect a simplicity quite at the beck of +his method. But a system of inducement which might have carried +weaker country lasses along with it had merely repelled Eustacia. +As a rule, the word Budmouth meant fascination on Egdon. That +Royal port and watering place, if truly mirrored in the minds of +the heath-folk, must have combined, in a charming and indescribable +manner, a Carthaginian bustle of building with Tarentine +luxuriousness and Baian health and beauty. Eustacia felt little +less extravagantly about the place; but she would not sink her +independence to get there.</p> + +<p>When Diggory Venn had gone quite away, Eustacia walked to the bank +and looked down the wild and picturesque vale towards the sun, +which was also in the direction of Wildeve's. The mist had now so +far collapsed that the tips of the trees and bushes around his +house could just be discerned, as if boring upwards through a vast +white cobweb which cloaked them from the day. There was no doubt +that her mind was inclined thitherward; indefinitely, +fancifully—twining and untwining about him as the single object +within her horizon on which dreams might crystallize. The man who +had begun by being merely her amusement, and would never have been +more than her hobby but for his skill in deserting her at the +right moments, was now again her desire. Cessation in his +love-making had revivified her love. Such feeling as Eustacia had +idly given to Wildeve was dammed into a flood by Thomasin. She had +used to tease Wildeve, but that was before another had favoured +him. Often a drop of irony into an indifferent situation renders +the whole piquant.</p> + +<p>"I will never give him up—never!" she said impetuously.</p> + +<p>The reddleman's hint that rumour might show her to disadvantage +had no permanent terror for Eustacia. She was as unconcerned at +that contingency as a goddess at a lack of linen. This did not +originate in inherent shamelessness, but in her living too far +from the world to feel the impact of public opinion. Zenobia in +the desert could hardly have cared what was said about her at +Rome. As far as social ethics were concerned Eustacia approached +the savage state, though in emotion she was all the while an +epicure. She had advanced to the secret recesses of sensuousness, +yet had hardly crossed the threshold of conventionality.</p> + + +<p><a name="1-11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XI</h3> +<h3>The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The reddleman had left Eustacia's presence with desponding views +on Thomasin's future happiness; but he was awakened to the fact +that one other channel remained untried by seeing, as he followed +the way to his van, the form of Mrs. Yeobright slowly walking +towards the Quiet Woman. He went across to her; and could almost +perceive in her anxious face that this journey of hers to Wildeve +was undertaken with the same object as his own to Eustacia.</p> + +<p>She did not conceal the fact. "Then," said the reddleman, "you may +as well leave it alone, Mrs. Yeobright."</p> + +<p>"I half think so myself," she said. "But nothing else remains to +be done besides pressing the question upon him."</p> + +<p>"I should like to say a word first," said Venn firmly. "Mr. +Wildeve is not the only man who has asked Thomasin to marry him; +and why should not another have a chance? Mrs. Yeobright, I should +be glad to marry your niece, and would have done it any +time these last two years. There, now it is out, and I have never +told anybody before but herself."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright was not demonstrative, but her eyes involuntarily +glanced towards his singular though shapely figure.</p> + +<p>"Looks are not everything," said the reddleman, noticing the +glance. "There's many a calling that don't bring in so much as +mine, if it comes to money; and perhaps I am not so much worse off +than Wildeve. There is nobody so poor as these professional +fellows who have failed; and if you shouldn't like my +redness—well, I am not red by birth, you know; I only took to +this business for a freak; and I might turn my hand to something +else in good time."</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged to you for your interest in my niece; but I +fear there would be objections. More than that, she is devoted to +this man."</p> + +<p>"True; or I shouldn't have done what I have this morning."</p> + +<p>"Otherwise there would be no pain in the case, and you would not +see me going to his house now. What was Thomasin's answer when you +told her of your feelings?"</p> + +<p>"She wrote that you would object to me; and other things."</p> + +<p>"She was in a measure right. You must not take this unkindly: I +merely state it as a truth. You have been good to her, and we do +not forget it. But as she was unwilling on her own account to be +your wife, that settles the point without my wishes being +concerned."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But there is a difference between then and now, ma'am. She +is distressed now, and I have thought that if you were to talk to +her about me, and think favourably of me yourself, there might be +a chance of winning her round, and getting her quite independent +of this Wildeve's backward and forward play, and his not knowing +whether he'll have her or no."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright shook her head. "Thomasin thinks, and I think with +her, that she ought to be Wildeve's wife, if she means to appear +before the world without a slur upon her name. If they marry soon, +everybody will believe that an accident did really prevent the +wedding. If not, it may cast a shade upon her character—at any +rate make her ridiculous. In short, if it is anyhow possible they +must marry now."</p> + +<p>"I thought that till half an hour ago. But, after all, why should +her going off with him to Anglebury for a few hours do her any +harm? Anybody who knows how pure she is will feel any such thought +to be quite unjust. I have been trying this morning to help on +this marriage with Wildeve—yes, I, ma'am—in the belief that I +ought to do it, because she was so wrapped up in him. But I much +question if I was right, after all. However, nothing came of it. +And now I offer myself."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright appeared disinclined to enter further into the +question. "I fear I must go on," she said. "I do not see that +anything else can be done."</p> + +<p>And she went on. But though this conversation did not divert +Thomasin's aunt from her purposed interview with Wildeve, it made +a considerable difference in her mode of conducting that +interview. She thanked God for the weapon which the reddleman had +put into her hands.</p> + +<p>Wildeve was at home when she reached the inn. He showed her +silently into the parlour, and closed the door. Mrs. Yeobright +began—</p> + +<p>"I have thought it my duty to call today. A new proposal has been +made to me, which has rather astonished me. It will affect +Thomasin greatly; and I have decided that it should at least be +mentioned to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes? What is it?" he said civilly.</p> + +<p>"It is, of course, in reference to her future. You may not be +aware that another man has shown himself anxious to marry +Thomasin. Now, though I have not encouraged him yet, I cannot +conscientiously refuse him a chance any longer. I don't wish to be +short with you; but I must be fair to him and to her."</p> + +<p>"Who is the man?" said Wildeve with surprise.</p> + +<p>"One who has been in love with her longer than she has with you. +He proposed to her two years ago. At that time she refused him."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"He has seen her lately, and has asked me for permission to pay +his addresses to her. She may not refuse him twice."</p> + +<p>"What is his name?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright declined to say. "He is a man Thomasin likes," she +added, "and one whose constancy she respects at least. It seems to +me that what she refused then she would be glad to get now. She is +much annoyed at her awkward position."</p> + +<p>"She never once told me of this old lover."</p> + +<p>"The gentlest women are not such fools as to show <i>every</i> +card."</p> + +<p>"Well, if she wants him I suppose she must have him."</p> + +<p>"It is easy enough to say that; but you don't see the difficulty. +He wants her much more than she wants him; and before I can +encourage anything of the sort I must have a clear understanding +from you that you will not interfere to injure an arrangement +which I promote in the belief that it is for the best. Suppose, +when they are engaged, and everything is smoothly arranged for +their marriage, that you should step between them and renew your +suit? You might not win her back, but you might cause much +unhappiness."</p> + +<p>"Of course I should do no such thing," said Wildeve "But they are +not engaged yet. How do you know that Thomasin would accept him?"</p> + +<p>"That's a question I have carefully put to myself; and upon the +whole the probabilities are in favour of her accepting him in +time. I flatter myself that I have some influence over her. She is +pliable, and I can be strong in my recommendations of him."</p> + +<p>"And in your disparagement of me at the same time."</p> + +<p>"Well, you may depend upon my not praising you," she said drily. +"And if this seems like manoeuvring, you must remember that her +position is peculiar, and that she has been hardly used. I shall +also be helped in making the match by her own desire to escape +from the humiliation of her present state; and a woman's pride in +these cases will lead her a very great way. A little managing may +be required to bring her round; but I am equal to that, provided +that you agree to the one thing indispensable; that is, to make a +distinct declaration that she is to think no more of you as a +possible husband. That will pique her into accepting him."</p> + +<p>"I can hardly say that just now, Mrs. Yeobright. It is so sudden."</p> + +<p>"And so my whole plan is interfered with! It is very inconvenient +that you refuse to help my family even to the small extent of +saying distinctly you will have nothing to do with us."</p> + +<p>Wildeve reflected uncomfortably. "I confess I was not prepared for +this," he said. "Of course I'll give her up if you wish, if it is +necessary. But I thought I might be her husband."</p> + +<p>"We have heard that before."</p> + +<p>"Now, Mrs. Yeobright, don't let us disagree. Give me a fair time. +I don't want to stand in the way of any better chance she may +have; only I wish you had let me know earlier. I will write to you +or call in a day or two. Will that suffice?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "provided you promise not to communicate with +Thomasin without my knowledge."</p> + +<p>"I promise that," he said. And the interview then terminated, Mrs. +Yeobright returning homeward as she had come.</p> + +<p>By far the greatest effect of her simple strategy on that day was, +as often happens, in a quarter quite outside her view when +arranging it. In the first place, her visit sent Wildeve the same +evening after dark to Eustacia's house at Mistover.</p> + +<p>At this hour the lonely dwelling was closely blinded and shuttered +from the chill and darkness without. Wildeve's clandestine plan +with her was to take a little gravel in his hand and hold it to +the crevice at the top of the window shutter, which was on the +outside, so that it should fall with a gentle rustle, resembling +that of a mouse, between shutter and glass. This precaution in +attracting her attention was to avoid arousing the suspicions of +her grandfather.</p> + +<p>The soft words, "I hear; wait for me," in Eustacia's voice from +within told him that she was alone.</p> + +<p>He waited in his customary manner by walking round the enclosure +and idling by the pool, for Wildeve was never asked into the house +by his proud though condescending mistress. She showed no sign of +coming out in a hurry. The time wore on, and he began to grow +impatient. In the course of twenty minutes she appeared from round +the corner, and advanced as if merely taking an airing.</p> + +<p>"You would not have kept me so long had you known what I come +about," he said with bitterness. "Still, you are worth waiting +for."</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" said Eustacia. "I did not know you were in +trouble. I too am gloomy enough."</p> + +<p>"I am not in trouble," said he. "It is merely that affairs have +come to a head, and I must take a clear course."</p> + +<p>"What course is that?" she asked with attentive interest.</p> + +<p>"And can you forget so soon what I proposed to you the other +night? Why, take you from this place, and carry you away with me +abroad."</p> + +<p>"I have not forgotten. But why have you come so unexpectedly to +repeat the question, when you only promised to come next Saturday? +I thought I was to have plenty of time to consider."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the situation is different now."</p> + +<p>"Explain to me."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to explain, for I may pain you."</p> + +<p>"But I must know the reason of this hurry."</p> + +<p>"It is simply my ardour, dear Eustacia. Everything is smooth now."</p> + +<p>"Then why are you so ruffled?"</p> + +<p>"I am not aware of it. All is as it should be. Mrs. Yeobright—but +she is nothing to us."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I knew she had something to do with it! Come, I don't like +reserve."</p> + +<p>"No—she has nothing. She only says she wishes me to give up +Thomasin because another man is anxious to marry her. The woman, +now she no longer needs me, actually shows off!" Wildeve's +vexation had escaped him in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>Eustacia was silent a long while. "You are in the awkward position +of an official who is no longer wanted," she said in a changed +tone.</p> + +<p>"It seems so. But I have not yet seen Thomasin."</p> + +<p>"And that irritates you. Don't deny it, Damon. You are actually +nettled by this slight from an unexpected quarter."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"And you come to get me because you cannot get her. This is +certainly a new position altogether. I am to be a stop-gap."</p> + +<p>"Please remember that I proposed the same thing the other day."</p> + +<p>Eustacia again remained in a sort of stupefied silence. What +curious feeling was this coming over her? Was it really possible +that her interest in Wildeve had been so entirely the result of +antagonism that the glory and the dream departed from the man with +the first sound that he was no longer coveted by her rival? She +was, then, secure of him at last. Thomasin no longer required him. +What a humiliating victory! He loved her best, she thought; and +yet—dared she to murmur such treacherous criticism ever so +softly?—what was the man worth whom a woman inferior to herself +did not value? The sentiment which lurks more or less in all +animate nature—that of not desiring the undesired of others—was +lively as a passion in the super-subtle, epicurean heart of +Eustacia. Her social superiority over him, which hitherto had +scarcely ever impressed her, became unpleasantly insistent, and +for the first time she felt that she had stooped in loving him.</p> + +<p>"Well, darling, you agree?" said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"If it could be London, or even Budmouth, instead of America," she +murmured languidly. "Well, I will think. It is too great a thing +for me to decide offhand. I wish I hated the heath less—or loved +you more."</p> + +<p>"You can be painfully frank. You loved me a month ago warmly +enough to go anywhere with me."</p> + +<p>"And you loved Thomasin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, perhaps that was where the reason lay," he returned, with +almost a sneer. "I don't hate her now."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. The only thing is that you can no longer get her."</p> + +<p>"Come—no taunts, Eustacia, or we shall quarrel. If you don't +agree to go with me, and agree shortly, I shall go by myself."</p> + +<p>"Or try Thomasin again. Damon, how strange it seems that you could +have married her or me indifferently, and only have come to me +because I am—cheapest! Yes, yes—it is true. There was a time +when I should have exclaimed against a man of that sort, and been +quite wild; but it is all past now."</p> + +<p>"Will you go, dearest? Come secretly with me to Bristol, marry me, +and turn our backs upon this dog-hole of England for ever? Say +Yes."</p> + +<p>"I want to get away from here at almost any cost," she said with +weariness, "but I don't like to go with you. Give me more time to +decide."</p> + +<p>"I have already," said Wildeve. "Well, I give you one more week."</p> + +<p>"A little longer, so that I may tell you decisively. I have to +consider so many things. Fancy Thomasin being anxious to get rid +of you! I cannot forget it."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that. Say Monday week. I will be here precisely at +this time."</p> + +<p>"Let it be at Rainbarrow," said she. "This is too near home; my +grandfather may be walking out."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear. On Monday week at this time I will be at the +Barrow. Till then good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye. No, no, you must not touch me now. Shaking hands is +enough till I have made up my mind."</p> + +<p>Eustacia watched his shadowy form till it had disappeared. She +placed her hand to her forehead and breathed heavily; and then her +rich, romantic lips parted under that homely impulse—a yawn. She +was immediately angry at having betrayed even to herself the +possible evanescence of her passion for him. She could not admit +at once that she might have overestimated Wildeve, for to perceive +his mediocrity now was to admit her own great folly heretofore. +And the discovery that she was the owner of a disposition so +purely that of the dog in the manger had something in it which at +first made her ashamed.</p> + +<p>The fruit of Mrs. Yeobright's diplomacy was indeed remarkable, +though not as yet of the kind she had anticipated. It had +appreciably influenced Wildeve, but it was influencing Eustacia +far more. Her lover was no longer to her an exciting man whom many +women strove for, and herself could only retain by striving with +them. He was a superfluity.</p> + +<p>She went indoors in that peculiar state of misery which is not +exactly grief, and which especially attends the dawnings of reason +in the latter days of an ill-judged, transient love. To be +conscious that the end of the dream is approaching, and yet has +not absolutely come, is one of the most wearisome as well as the +most curious stages along the course between the beginning of a +passion and its end.</p> + +<p>Her grandfather had returned, and was busily engaged in pouring +some gallons of newly arrived rum into the square bottles of his +square cellaret. Whenever these home supplies were exhausted he +would go to the Quiet Woman, and, standing with his back to the +fire, grog in hand, tell remarkable stories of how he had lived +seven years under the water-line of his ship, and other naval +wonders, to the natives, who hoped too earnestly for a treat of +ale from the teller to exhibit any doubts of his truth.</p> + +<p>He had been there this evening. "I suppose you have heard the +Egdon news, Eustacia?" he said, without looking up from the +bottles. "The men have been talking about it at the Woman as if it +were of national importance."</p> + +<p>"I have heard none," she said.</p> + +<p>"Young Clym Yeobright, as they call him, is coming home next week +to spend Christmas with his mother. He is a fine fellow by this +time, it seems. I suppose you remember him?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw him in my life."</p> + +<p>"Ah, true; he left before you came here. I well remember him as a +promising boy."</p> + +<p>"Where has he been living all these years?"</p> + +<p>"In that rookery of pomp and vanity, Paris, I believe."</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="2-1"></a> </p> +<h3>BOOK SECOND</h3> +<h2>THE ARRIVAL</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>I</h3> +<h3>Tidings of the Comer<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On fine days at this time of the year, and earlier, certain +ephemeral operations were apt to disturb, in their trifling way, +the majestic calm of Egdon Heath. They were activities which, +beside those of a town, a village, or even a farm, would have +appeared as the ferment of stagnation merely, a creeping of the +flesh of somnolence. But here, away from comparisons, shut in by +the stable hills, among which mere walking had the novelty of +pageantry, and where any man could imagine himself to be Adam +without the least difficulty, they attracted the attention of +every bird within eyeshot, every reptile not yet asleep, and set +the surrounding rabbits curiously watching from hillocks at a safe +distance.</p> + +<p>The performance was that of bringing together and building into a +stack the furze-faggots which Humphrey had been cutting for the +captain's use during the foregoing fine days. The stack was at the +end of the dwelling, and the men engaged in building it were +Humphrey and Sam, the old man looking on.</p> + +<p>It was a fine and quiet afternoon, about three o'clock; but the +winter solstice having stealthily come on, the lowness of the sun +caused the hour to seem later than it actually was, there being +little here to remind an inhabitant that he must unlearn his +summer experience of the sky as a dial. In the course of many days +and weeks sunrise had advanced its quarters from north-east to +south-east, sunset had receded from north-west to south-west; but +Egdon had hardly heeded the change.</p> + +<p>Eustacia was indoors in the dining-room, which was really more +like a kitchen, having a stone floor and a gaping chimney-corner. +The air was still, and while she lingered a moment here alone +sounds of voices in conversation came to her ears directly down +the chimney. She entered the recess, and, listening, looked up the +old irregular shaft, with its cavernous hollows, where the smoke +blundered about on its way to the square bit of sky at the top, +from which the daylight struck down with a pallid glare upon the +tatters of soot draping the flue as seaweed drapes a rocky +fissure.</p> + +<p>She remembered: the furze-stack was not far from the chimney, and +the voices were those of the workers.</p> + +<p>Her grandfather joined in the conversation. "That lad ought never +to have left home. His father's occupation would have suited him +best, and the boy should have followed on. I don't believe in +these new moves in families. My father was a sailor, so was I, and +so should my son have been if I had had one."</p> + +<p>"The place he's been living at is Paris," said Humphrey, "and they +tell me 'tis where the king's head was cut off years ago. My poor +mother used to tell me about that business. 'Hummy,' she used to +say, 'I was a young maid then, and as I was at home ironing +mother's caps one afternoon the parson came in and said, "They've +cut the king's head off, Jane; and what 'twill be next God +knows."'"</p> + +<p>"A good many of us knew as well as He before long," said the +captain, chuckling. "I lived seven years under water on account of +it in my boyhood—in that damned surgery of the <i>Triumph</i>, seeing +men brought down to the cockpit with their legs and arms blown to +Jericho… And so the young man has settled in Paris. Manager +to a diamond merchant, or some such thing, is he not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, that's it. 'Tis a blazing great business that he +belongs to, so I've heard his mother say—like a king's palace, as +far as diments go."</p> + +<p>"I can well mind when he left home," said Sam.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a good thing for the feller," said Humphrey. "A sight of +times better to be selling diments than nobbling about here."</p> + +<p>"It must cost a good few shillings to deal at such a place."</p> + +<p>"A good few indeed, my man," replied the captain. "Yes, you may +make away with a deal of money and be neither drunkard nor +glutton."</p> + +<p>"They say, too, that Clym Yeobright is become a real perusing man, +with the strangest notions about things. There, that's because he +went to school early, such as the school was."</p> + +<p>"Strange notions, has he?" said the old man. "Ah, there's too much +of that sending to school in these days! It only does harm. Every +gatepost and barn's door you come to is sure to have some bad word +or other chalked upon it by the young rascals: a woman can hardly +pass for shame some times. If they'd never been taught how to write +they wouldn't have been able to scribble such villainy. Their +fathers couldn't do it, and the country was all the better for +it."</p> + +<p>"Now, I should think, cap'n, that Miss Eustacia had about as much +in her head that comes from books as anybody about here?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps if Miss Eustacia, too, had less romantic nonsense in her +head it would be better for her," said the captain shortly; after +which he walked away.</p> + +<p>"I say, Sam," observed Humphrey when the old man was gone, "she +and Clym Yeobright would make a very pretty pigeon-pair—hey? If +they wouldn't I'll be dazed! Both of one mind about niceties for +certain, and learned in print, and always thinking about high +doctrine—there couldn't be a better couple if they were made o' +purpose. Clym's family is as good as hers. His father was a +farmer, that's true; but his mother was a sort of lady, as we +know. Nothing would please me better than to see them two man and +wife."</p> + +<p>"They'd look very natty, arm-in-crook together, and their best +clothes on, whether or no, if he's at all the well-favoured fellow +he used to be."</p> + +<p>"They would, Humphrey. Well, I should like to see the chap +terrible much after so many years. If I knew for certain when he +was coming I'd stroll out three or four miles to meet him and help +carry anything for'n; though I suppose he's altered from the boy +he was. They say he can talk French as fast as a maid can eat +blackberries; and if so, depend upon it we who have stayed at home +shall seem no more than scroff in his eyes."</p> + +<p>"Coming across the water to Budmouth by steamer, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but how he's coming from Budmouth I don't know."</p> + +<p>"That's a bad trouble about his cousin Thomasin. I wonder such a +nice-notioned fellow as Clym likes to come home into it. What a +nunnywatch we were in, to be sure, when we heard they weren't +married at all, after singing to 'em as man and wife that night! +Be dazed if I should like a relation of mine to have been made +such a fool of by a man. It makes the family look small."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Poor maid, her heart has ached enough about it. Her health +is suffering from it, I hear, for she will bide entirely indoors. +We never see her out now, scampering over the furze with a face as +red as a rose, as she used to do."</p> + +<p>"I've heard she wouldn't have Wildeve now if he asked her."</p> + +<p>"You have? 'Tis news to me."</p> + +<p>While the furze-gatherers had desultorily conversed thus +Eustacia's face gradually bent to the hearth in a profound +reverie, her toe unconsciously tapping the dry turf which lay +burning at her feet.</p> + +<p>The subject of their discourse had been keenly interesting to her. +A young and clever man was coming into that lonely heath from, of +all contrasting places in the world, Paris. It was like a man +coming from heaven. More singular still, the heathmen had +instinctively coupled her and this man together in their minds as +a pair born for each other.</p> + +<p>That five minutes of overhearing furnished Eustacia with visions +enough to fill the whole blank afternoon. Such sudden alternations +from mental vacuity do sometimes occur thus quietly. She could +never have believed in the morning that her colourless inner world +would before night become as animated as water under a microscope, +and that without the arrival of a single visitor. The words of Sam +and Humphrey on the harmony between the unknown and herself had on +her mind the effect of the invading Bard's prelude in the "Castle +of Indolence," at which myriads of imprisoned shapes arose where +had previously appeared the stillness of a void.</p> + +<p>Involved in these imaginings she knew nothing of time. When she +became conscious of externals it was dusk. The furze-rick was +finished; the men had gone home. Eustacia went upstairs, thinking +that she would take a walk at this her usual time; and she +determined that her walk should be in the direction of Blooms-End, +the birthplace of young Yeobright and the present home of his +mother. She had no reason for walking elsewhere, and why should +she not go that way? The scene of a day-dream is sufficient for a +pilgrimage at nineteen. To look at the palings before the +Yeobrights' house had the dignity of a necessary performance. +Strange that such a piece of idling should have seemed an +important errand.</p> + +<p>She put on her bonnet, and, leaving the house, descended the hill +on the side towards Blooms-End, where she walked slowly along the +valley for a distance of a mile and a half. This brought her to a +spot in which the green bottom of the dale began to widen, the +furze bushes to recede yet further from the path on each side, +till they were diminished to an isolated one here and there by the +increasing fertility of the soil. Beyond the irregular carpet of +grass was a row of white palings, which marked the verge of the +heath in this latitude. They showed upon the dusky scene that they +bordered as distinctly as white lace on velvet. Behind the white +palings was a little garden; behind the garden an old, irregular, +thatched house, facing the heath, and commanding a full view of +the valley. This was the obscure, removed spot to which was about +to return a man whose latter life had been passed in the French +capital—the centre and vortex of the fashionable world.</p> + + +<p><a name="2-2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II</h3> +<h3>The People at Blooms-End Make Ready<br /> </h3> + + +<p>All that afternoon the expected arrival of the subject of +Eustacia's ruminations created a bustle of preparation at +Blooms-End. Thomasin had been persuaded by her aunt, and by an +instinctive impulse of loyalty towards her cousin Clym, to bestir +herself on his account with an alacrity unusual in her during +these most sorrowful days of her life. At the time that Eustacia +was listening to the rickmakers' conversation on Clym's return, +Thomasin was climbing into a loft over her aunt's fuel-house, where +the store-apples were kept, to search out the best and largest of +them for the coming holiday-time.</p> + +<p>The loft was lighted by a semicircular hole, through which the +pigeons crept to their lodgings in the same high quarters of the +premises; and from this hole the sun shone in a bright yellow +patch upon the figure of the maiden as she knelt and plunged her +naked arms into the soft brown fern, which, from its abundance, +was used on Egdon in packing away stores of all kinds. The pigeons +were flying about her head with the greatest unconcern, and the +face of her aunt was just visible above the floor of the loft, lit +by a few stray motes of light, as she stood half-way up the ladder, +looking at a spot into which she was not climber enough to +venture.</p> + +<p>"Now a few russets, Tamsin. He used to like them almost as well as +ribstones."</p> + +<p>Thomasin turned and rolled aside the fern from another nook, where +more mellow fruit greeted her with its ripe smell. Before picking +them out she stopped a moment.</p> + +<p>"Dear Clym, I wonder how your face looks now?" she said, gazing +abstractedly at the pigeon-hole, which admitted the +sunlight so directly upon her brown hair and transparent tissues +that it almost seemed to shine through her.</p> + +<p>"If he could have been dear to you in another way," said Mrs. +Yeobright from the ladder, "this might have been a happy meeting."</p> + +<p>"Is there any use in saying what can do no good, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her aunt, with some warmth. "To thoroughly fill the +air with the past misfortune, so that other girls may take warning +and keep clear of it."</p> + +<p>Thomasin lowered her face to the apples again. "I am a warning to +others, just as thieves and drunkards and gamblers are," she said +in a low voice. "What a class to belong to! Do I really belong to +them? 'Tis absurd! Yet why, aunt, does everybody keep on making me +think that I do, by the way they behave towards me? Why don't +people judge me by my acts? Now, look at me as I kneel here, +picking up these apples—do I look like a lost woman?… I +wish all good women were as good as I!" she added vehemently.</p> + +<p>"Strangers don't see you as I do," said Mrs. Yeobright; "they +judge from false report. Well, it is a silly job, and I am partly +to blame."</p> + +<p>"How quickly a rash thing can be done!" replied the girl. Her lips +were quivering, and tears so crowded themselves into her eyes that +she could hardly distinguish apples from fern as she continued +industriously searching to hide her weakness.</p> + +<p>"As soon as you have finished getting the apples," her aunt said, +descending the ladder, "come down, and we'll go for the holly. +There is nobody on the heath this afternoon, and you need not fear +being stared at. We must get some berries, or Clym will never +believe in our preparations."</p> + +<p>Thomasin came down when the apples were collected, and together +they went through the white palings to the heath beyond. The open +hills were airy and clear, and the remote atmosphere appeared, as +it often appears on a fine winter day, in distinct planes of +illumination independently toned, the rays which lit the nearer +tracts of landscape streaming visibly across those further off; a +stratum of ensaffroned light was imposed on a stratum of deep +blue, and behind these lay still remoter scenes wrapped in frigid +grey.</p> + +<p>They reached the place where the hollies grew, which was in a +conical pit, so that the tops of the trees were not much above the +general level of the ground. Thomasin stepped up into a fork of +one of the bushes, as she had done under happier circumstances on +many similar occasions, and with a small chopper that they had +brought she began to lop off the heavily-berried boughs.</p> + +<p>"Don't scratch your face," said her aunt, who stood at the edge of +the pit, regarding the girl as she held on amid the glistening +green and scarlet masses of the tree. "Will you walk with me to +meet him this evening?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to. Else it would seem as if I had forgotten him," +said Thomasin, tossing out a bough. "Not that that would matter +much; I belong to one man; nothing can alter that. And that man I +must marry, for my pride's sake."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid—" began Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you think, 'That weak girl—how is she going to get a man to +marry her when she chooses?' But let me tell you one thing, aunt: +Mr. Wildeve is not a profligate man, any more than I am an +improper woman. He has an unfortunate manner, and doesn't try to +make people like him if they don't wish to do it of their own +accord."</p> + +<p>"Thomasin," said Mrs. Yeobright quietly, fixing her eye upon her +niece, "do you think you deceive me in your defence of Mr. +Wildeve?"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I have long had a suspicion that your love for him has changed +its colour since you have found him not to be the saint you +thought him, and that you act a part to me."</p> + +<p>"He wished to marry me, and I wish to marry him."</p> + +<p>"Now, I put it to you: would you at this present moment agree to +be his wife if that had not happened to entangle you with him?"</p> + +<p>Thomasin looked into the tree and appeared much disturbed. "Aunt," +she said presently, "I have, I think, a right to refuse to answer +that question."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you have."</p> + +<p>"You may think what you choose. I have never implied to you by +word or deed that I have grown to think otherwise of him, and I +never will. And I shall marry him."</p> + +<p>"Well, wait till he repeats his offer. I think he may do it, now +that he knows—something I told him. I don't for a moment dispute +that it is the most proper thing for you to marry him. Much as I +have objected to him in bygone days, I agree with you now, you may +be sure. It is the only way out of a false position, and a very +galling one."</p> + +<p>"What did you tell him?"</p> + +<p>"That he was standing in the way of another lover of yours."</p> + +<p>"Aunt," said Thomasin, with round eyes, "what <i>do</i> you +mean?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed; it was my duty. I can say no more about it now, +but when it is over I will tell you exactly what I said, and why I +said it."</p> + +<p>Thomasin was perforce content.</p> + +<p>"And you will keep the secret of my would-be marriage from Clym +for the present?" she next asked.</p> + +<p>"I have given my word to. But what is the use of it? He must soon +know what has happened. A mere look at your face will show him +that something is wrong."</p> + +<p>Thomasin turned and regarded her aunt from the tree. "Now, hearken +to me," she said, her delicate voice expanding into firmness by a +force which was other than physical. "Tell him nothing. If he +finds out that I am not worthy to be his cousin, let him. But, +since he loved me once, we will not pain him by telling him my +trouble too soon. The air is full of the story, I know; but +gossips will not dare to speak of it to him for the first few +days. His closeness to me is the very thing that will hinder the +tale from reaching him early. If I am not made safe from sneers in +a week or two I will tell him myself."</p> + +<p>The earnestness with which Thomasin spoke prevented further +objections. Her aunt simply said, "Very well. He should by rights +have been told at the time that the wedding was going to be. He +will never forgive you for your secrecy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he will, when he knows it was because I wished to spare him, +and that I did not expect him home so soon. And you must not let +me stand in the way of your Christmas party. Putting it off would +only make matters worse."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall not. I do not wish to show myself beaten before +all Egdon, and the sport of a man like Wildeve. We have enough +berries now, I think, and we had better take them home. By the +time we have decked the house with this and hung up the mistletoe, +we must think of starting to meet him."</p> + +<p>Thomasin came out of the tree, shook from her hair and dress the +loose berries which had fallen thereon, and went down the hill +with her aunt, each woman bearing half the gathered boughs. It was +now nearly four o'clock, and the sunlight was leaving the vales. +When the west grew red the two relatives came again from the house +and plunged into the heath in a different direction from the +first, towards a point in the distant highway along which the +expected man was to return.</p> + + +<p><a name="2-3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III</h3> +<h3>How a Little Sound Produced a Great Dream<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Eustacia stood just within the heath, straining her eyes in the +direction of Mrs. Yeobright's house and premises. No light, sound, +or movement was perceptible there. The evening was chilly; the +spot was dark and lonely. She inferred that the guest had not yet +come; and after lingering ten or fifteen minutes she turned again +towards home.</p> + +<p>She had not far retraced her steps when sounds in front of her +betokened the approach of persons in conversation along the same +path. Soon their heads became visible against the sky. They were +walking slowly; and though it was too dark for much discovery of +character from aspect, the gait of them showed that they were not +workers on the heath. Eustacia stepped a little out of the +foot-track to let them pass. They were two women and a man; and +the voices of the women were those of Mrs. Yeobright and Thomasin.</p> + +<p>They went by her, and at the moment of passing appeared to discern +her dusky form. There came to her ears in a masculine voice, "Good +night!"</p> + +<p>She murmured a reply, glided by them, and turned round. She could +not, for a moment, believe that chance, unrequested, had brought +into her presence the soul of the house she had gone to inspect, +the man without whom her inspection would not have been thought +of.</p> + +<p>She strained her eyes to see them, but was unable. Such was her +intentness, however, that it seemed as if her ears were performing +the functions of seeing as well as hearing. This extension of +power can almost be believed in at such moments. The deaf Dr. +Kitto was probably under the influence of a parallel fancy when he +described his body as having become, by long endeavour, so +sensitive to vibrations that he had gained the power of perceiving +by it as by ears.</p> + +<p>She could follow every word that the ramblers uttered. They were +talking no secrets. They were merely indulging in the ordinary +vivacious chat of relatives who have long been parted in person though +not in soul. But it was not to the words that Eustacia listened; she +could not even have recalled, a few minutes later, what the words +were. It was to the alternating voice that gave out about one-tenth of +them—the voice that had wished her good night. Sometimes this throat +uttered Yes, sometimes it uttered No; sometimes it made inquiries +about a timeworn denizen of the place. Once it surprised her notions +by remarking upon the friendliness and geniality written in the faces +of the hills around.</p> + +<p>The three voices passed on, and decayed and died out upon her ear. +Thus much had been granted her; and all besides withheld. No event +could have been more exciting. During the greater part of the +afternoon she had been entrancing herself by imagining the +fascination which must attend a man come direct from beautiful +Paris—laden with its atmosphere, familiar with its charms. And +this man had greeted her.</p> + +<p>With the departure of the figures the profuse articulations of the +women wasted away from her memory; but the accents of the other +stayed on. Was there anything in the voice of Mrs. Yeobright's +son—for Clym it was—startling as a sound? No; it was simply +comprehensive. All emotional things were possible to the speaker +of that "good night." Eustacia's imagination supplied the +rest—except the solution to one riddle. What <i>could</i> the +tastes of that man be who saw friendliness and geniality in +these shaggy hills?</p> + +<p>On such occasions as this a thousand ideas pass through a highly +charged woman's head; and they indicate themselves on her face; +but the changes, though actual, are minute. Eustacia's features +went through a rhythmical succession of them. She glowed; +remembering the mendacity of the imagination, she flagged; then +she freshened; then she fired; then she cooled again. It was a +cycle of aspects, produced by a cycle of visions.</p> + +<p>Eustacia entered her own house; she was excited. Her grandfather +was enjoying himself over the fire, raking about the ashes and +exposing the red-hot surface of the turves, so that their lurid +glare irradiated the chimney-corner with the hues of a furnace.</p> + +<p>"Why is it that we are never friendly with the Yeobrights?" she +said, coming forward and stretching her soft hands over the +warmth. "I wish we were. They seem to be very nice people."</p> + +<p>"Be hanged if I know why," said the captain. "I liked the old man +well enough, though he was as rough as a hedge. But you would +never have cared to go there, even if you might have, I am well +sure."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Your town tastes would find them far too countrified. They sit in +the kitchen, drink mead and elderwine, and sand the floor to keep +it clean. A sensible way of life; but would you like it?"</p> + +<p>"I thought Mrs. Yeobright was a ladylike woman? A curate's +daughter, was she not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but she was obliged to live as her husband did; and I +suppose she has taken kindly to it by this time. Ah, I recollect +that I once accidentally offended her, and I have never seen her +since."</p> + +<p>That night was an eventful one to Eustacia's brain, and one which +she hardly ever forgot. She dreamt a dream; and few human beings, +from Nebuchadnezzar to the Swaffham tinker, ever dreamt a more +remarkable one. Such an elaborately developed, perplexing, +exciting dream was certainly never dreamed by a girl in Eustacia's +situation before. It had as many ramifications as the Cretan +labyrinth, as many fluctuations as the Northern Lights, as much +colour as a parterre in June, and was as crowded with figures as a +coronation. To Queen Scheherazade the dream might have seemed not +far removed from commonplace; and to a girl just returned from all +the courts of Europe it might have seemed not more than +interesting. But amid the circumstances of Eustacia's life it was +as wonderful as a dream could be.</p> + +<p>There was, however, gradually evolved from its transformation +scenes a less extravagant episode, in which the heath dimly +appeared behind the general brilliancy of the action. She was +dancing to wondrous music, and her partner was the man in silver +armour who had accompanied her through the previous fantastic +changes, the visor of his helmet being closed. The mazes of the +dance were ecstatic. Soft whispering came into her ear from under +the radiant helmet, and she felt like a woman in Paradise. +Suddenly these two wheeled out from the mass of dancers, dived +into one of the pools of the heath, and came out somewhere +beneath into an iridescent hollow, arched with +rainbows. "It must be here," said +the voice by her side, and blushingly looking up she saw him +removing his casque to kiss her. At that moment there was a +cracking noise, and his figure fell into fragments like a pack of +cards.</p> + +<p>She cried aloud. "O that I had seen his face!"</p> + +<p>Eustacia awoke. The cracking had been that of the window shutter +downstairs, which the maid-servant was opening to let in the day, +now slowly increasing to Nature's meagre allowance at this sickly +time of the year. "O that I had seen his face!" she said again. +"'Twas meant for Mr. Yeobright!"</p> + +<p>When she became cooler she perceived that many of the phases of +the dream had naturally arisen out of the images and fancies of +the day before. But this detracted little from its interest, which +lay in the excellent fuel it provided for newly kindled fervour. +She was at the modulating point between indifference and love, at +the stage called "having a fancy for." It occurs once in the +history of the most gigantic passions, and it is a period when +they are in the hands of the weakest will.</p> + +<p>The perfervid woman was by this time half in love with a vision. +The fantastic nature of her passion, which lowered her as an +intellect, raised her as a soul. If she had had a little more +self-control she would have attenuated the emotion to nothing by +sheer reasoning, and so have killed it off. If she had had a +little less pride she might have gone and circumambulated the +Yeobrights' premises at Blooms-End at any maidenly sacrifice until +she had seen him. But Eustacia did neither of these things. She +acted as the most exemplary might have acted, being so influenced; +she took an airing twice or thrice a day upon the Egdon hills, and +kept her eyes employed.</p> + +<p>The first occasion passed, and he did not come that way.</p> + +<p>She promenaded a second time, and was again the sole wanderer +there.</p> + +<p>The third time there was a dense fog; she looked around, but +without much hope. Even if he had been walking within twenty yards +of her she could not have seen him.</p> + +<p>At the fourth attempt to encounter him it began to rain in +torrents, and she turned back.</p> + +<p>The fifth sally was in the afternoon: it was fine, and she +remained out long, walking to the very top of the valley in which +Blooms-End lay. She saw the white paling about half a mile off; +but he did not appear. It was almost with heart-sickness that she +came home and with a sense of shame at her weakness. She resolved +to look for the man from Paris no more.</p> + +<p>But Providence is nothing if not coquettish; and no sooner had +Eustacia formed this resolve than the opportunity came which, +while sought, had been entirely withholden.</p> + + +<p><a name="2-4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<h3>Eustacia Is Led On to an Adventure<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In the evening of this last day of expectation, which was the +twenty-third of December, Eustacia was at home alone. She had +passed the recent hour in lamenting over a rumour newly come to +her ears—that Yeobright's visit to his mother was to be of short +duration, and would end some time the next week. "Naturally," she +said to herself. A man in the full swing of his activities in a +gay city could not afford to linger long on Egdon Heath. That she +would behold face to face the owner of the awakening voice within +the limits of such a holiday was most unlikely, unless she were to +haunt the environs of his mother's house like a robin, to do which +was difficult and unseemly.</p> + +<p>The customary expedient of provincial girls and men in such +circumstances is churchgoing. In an ordinary village or country +town one can safely calculate that, either on Christmas-day or the +Sunday contiguous, any native home for the holidays, who has not +through age or <i>ennui</i> lost the appetite for seeing and +being seen, will turn up in some pew or other, shining with hope, +self-consciousness, and new clothes. Thus the congregation on +Christmas morning is mostly a Tussaud collection of celebrities +who have been born in the neighbourhood. Hither the mistress, left +neglected at home all the year, can steal and observe the +development of the returned lover who has forgotten her, and think +as she watches him over her prayer-book that he may throb with a +renewed fidelity when novelties have lost their charm. And hither +a comparatively recent settler like Eustacia may betake herself to +scrutinize the person of a native son who left home before her +advent upon the scene, and consider if the friendship of his +parents be worth cultivating during his next absence in order to +secure a knowledge of him on his next return.</p> + +<p>But these tender schemes were not feasible among the scattered +inhabitants of Egdon Heath. In name they were parishioners, but +virtually they belonged to no parish at all. People who came to +these few isolated houses to keep Christmas with their friends +remained in their friends' chimney-corners drinking mead and other +comforting liquors till they left again for good and all. Rain, +snow, ice, mud everywhere around, they did not care to trudge two +or three miles to sit wet-footed and splashed to the nape of their +necks among those who, though in some measure neighbours, lived +close to the church, and entered it clean and dry. Eustacia knew +it was ten to one that Clym Yeobright would go to no church at all +during his few days of leave, and that it would be a waste of +labour for her to go driving the pony and gig over a bad road in +hope to see him there.</p> + +<p>It was dusk, and she was sitting by the fire in the dining-room or +hall, which they occupied at this time of the year in preference +to the parlour, because of its large hearth, constructed for +turf-fires, a fuel the captain was partial to in the winter +season. The only visible articles in the room were those on the +window-sill, which showed their shapes against the low sky: the +middle article being the old hourglass, and the other two a pair +of ancient British urns which had been dug from a barrow near, and +were used as flower-pots for two razor-leaved cactuses. Somebody +knocked at the door. The servant was out; so was her grandfather. +The person, after waiting a minute, came in and tapped at the door +of the room.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"Please, Cap'n Vye, will you let us—"</p> + +<p>Eustacia arose and went to the door. "I cannot allow you to come +in so boldly. You should have waited."</p> + +<p>"The cap'n said I might come in without any fuss," was answered in +a lad's pleasant voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, did he?" said Eustacia more gently. "What do you want, +Charley?"</p> + +<p>"Please will your grandfather lend us his fuel-house to try over +our parts in, tonight at seven o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"What, are you one of the Egdon mummers for this year?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss. The cap'n used to let the old mummers practise here."</p> + +<p>"I know it. Yes, you may use the fuel-house if you like," said +Eustacia languidly.</p> + +<p>The choice of Captain Vye's fuel-house as the scene of rehearsal +was dictated by the fact that his dwelling was nearly in the +centre of the heath. The fuel-house was as roomy as a barn, and was +a most desirable place for such a purpose. The lads who formed the +company of players lived at different scattered points around, and +by meeting in this spot the distances to be traversed by all the +comers would be about equally proportioned.</p> + +<p>For mummers and mumming Eustacia had the greatest contempt. The +mummers themselves were not afflicted with any such feeling for +their art, though at the same time they were not enthusiastic. A +traditional pastime is to be distinguished from a mere revival in +no more striking feature than in this, that while in the revival +all is excitement and fervour, the survival is carried on with a +stolidity and absence of stir which sets one wondering why a thing +that is done so perfunctorily should be kept up at all. Like +Balaam and other unwilling prophets, the agents seem moved by an +inner compulsion to say and do their allotted parts whether they +will or no. This unweeting manner of performance is the true ring +by which, in this refurbishing age, a fossilized survival may be +known from a spurious reproduction.</p> + +<p>The piece was the well-known play of "Saint George," and all who +were behind the scenes assisted in the preparations, including the +women of each household. Without the cooperation of sisters and +sweethearts the dresses were likely to be a failure; but on the +other hand, this class of assistance was not without its +drawbacks. The girls could never be brought to respect tradition +in designing and decorating the armour; they insisted on attaching +loops and bows of silk and velvet in any situation pleasing to +their taste. Gorget, gusset, basinet, cuirass, gauntlet, sleeve, +all alike in the view of these feminine eyes were practicable +spaces whereon to sew scraps of fluttering colour.</p> + +<p>It might be that Joe, who fought on the side of Christendom, had a +sweetheart, and that Jim, who fought on the side of the Moslem, +had one likewise. During the making of the costumes it would come +to the knowledge of Joe's sweetheart that Jim's was putting +brilliant silk scallops at the bottom of her lover's surcoat, in +addition to the ribbons of the visor, the bars of which, being +invariably formed of coloured strips about half an inch wide +hanging before the face, were mostly of that material. Joe's +sweetheart straightway placed brilliant silk on the scallops of +the hem in question, and, going a little further, added ribbon +tufts to the shoulder pieces. Jim's, not to be outdone, would +affix bows and rosettes everywhere.</p> + +<p>The result was that in the end the Valiant Soldier, of the +Christian army, was distinguished by no peculiarity of +accoutrement from the Turkish Knight; and what was worse, on a +casual view Saint George himself might be mistaken for his deadly +enemy, the Saracen. The guisers themselves, though inwardly +regretting this confusion of persons, could not afford to offend +those by whose assistance they so largely profited, and the +innovations were allowed to stand.</p> + +<p>There was, it is true, a limit to this tendency to uniformity. The +Leech or Doctor preserved his character intact: his darker +habiliments, peculiar hat, and the bottle of physic slung under +his arm, could never be mistaken. And the same might be said of +the conventional figure of Father Christmas, with his gigantic +club, an older man, who accompanied the band as general protector +in long night journeys from parish to parish, and was bearer of +the purse.</p> + +<p>Seven o'clock, the hour of the rehearsal, came round, and in a +short time Eustacia could hear voices in the fuel-house. To +dissipate in some trifling measure her abiding sense of the +murkiness of human life she went to the "linhay" or lean-to-shed, +which formed the root-store of their dwelling and abutted on the +fuel-house. Here was a small rough hole in the mud wall, originally +made for pigeons, through which the interior of the next shed +could be viewed. A light came from it now; and Eustacia stepped +upon a stool to look in upon the scene.</p> + +<p>On a ledge in the fuel-house stood three tall rush-lights and by +the light of them seven or eight lads were marching about, haranguing, +and confusing each other, in endeavours to perfect themselves in +the play. Humphrey and Sam, the furze and turf cutters, were there +looking on, so also was Timothy Fairway, who leant against the +wall and prompted the boys from memory, interspersing among the +set words remarks and anecdotes of the superior days when he and +others were the Egdon mummers-elect that these lads were now.</p> + +<p>"Well, ye be as well up to it as ever ye will be," he said. "Not +that such mumming would have passed in our time. Harry as the +Saracen should strut a bit more, and John needn't holler his +inside out. Beyond that perhaps you'll do. Have you got all your +clothes ready?"</p> + +<p>"We shall by Monday."</p> + +<p>"Your first outing will be Monday night, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. At Mrs. Yeobright's."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Yeobright's. What makes her want to see ye? I should +think a middle-aged woman was tired of mumming."</p> + +<p>"She's got up a bit of a party, because 'tis the first Christmas +that her son Clym has been home for a long time."</p> + +<p>"To be sure, to be sure—her party! I am going myself. I almost +forgot it, upon my life."</p> + +<p>Eustacia's face flagged. There was to be a party at the +Yeobrights'; she, naturally, had nothing to do with it. She was a +stranger to all such local gatherings, and had always held them as +scarcely appertaining to her sphere. But had she been going, what +an opportunity would have been afforded her of seeing the man +whose influence was penetrating her like summer sun! To increase +that influence was coveted excitement; to cast it off might be to +regain serenity; to leave it as it stood was tantalizing.</p> + +<p>The lads and men prepared to leave the premises, and Eustacia +returned to her fireside. She was immersed in thought, but not for +long. In a few minutes the lad Charley, who had come to ask +permission to use the place, returned with the key to the kitchen. +Eustacia heard him, and opening the door into the passage said, +"Charley, come here."</p> + +<p>The lad was surprised. He entered the front room not without +blushing; for he, like many, had felt the power of this girl's +face and form.</p> + +<p>She pointed to a seat by the fire, and entered the other side of +the chimney-corner herself. It could be seen in her face that +whatever motive she might have had in asking the youth indoors +would soon appear.</p> + +<p>"Which part do you play, Charley—the Turkish Knight, do you not?" +inquired the beauty, looking across the smoke of the fire to him +on the other side.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss, the Turkish Knight," he replied diffidently.</p> + +<p>"Is yours a long part?"</p> + +<p>"Nine speeches, about."</p> + +<p>"Can you repeat them to me? If so I should like to hear them."</p> + +<p>The lad smiled into the glowing turf and began—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Here come I, a Turkish Knight,<br /> + Who learnt in Turkish land to fight,"<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">continuing the discourse throughout the scenes to the concluding +catastrophe of his fall by the hand of Saint George.</p> + +<p>Eustacia had occasionally heard the part recited before. When the +lad ended she began, precisely in the same words, and ranted on +without hitch or divergence till she too reached the end. It was +the same thing, yet how different. Like in form, it had the added +softness and finish of a Raffaelle after Perugino, which, while +faithfully reproducing the original subject, entirely distances +the original art.</p> + +<p>Charley's eyes rounded with surprise. "Well, you be a clever +lady!" he said, in admiration. "I've been three weeks learning +mine."</p> + +<p>"I have heard it before," she quietly observed. "Now, would you do +anything to please me, Charley?"</p> + +<p>"I'd do a good deal, miss."</p> + +<p>"Would you let me play your part for one night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, miss! But your woman's gown—you couldn't."</p> + +<p>"I can get boy's clothes—at least all that would be wanted +besides the mumming dress. What should I have to give you to lend +me your things, to let me take your place for an hour or two on +Monday night, and on no account to say a word about who or what I +am? You would, of course, have to excuse yourself from playing +that night, and to say that somebody—a cousin of Miss +Vye's—would act for you. The other mummers have never spoken to +me in their lives, so that it would be safe enough; and if it were +not, I should not mind. Now, what must I give you to agree to +this? Half a crown?"</p> + +<p>The youth shook his head</p> + +<p>"Five shillings?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head again. "Money won't do it," he said, brushing +the iron head of the fire-dog with the hollow of his hand.</p> + +<p>"What will, then, Charley?" said Eustacia in a disappointed tone.</p> + +<p>"You know what you forbade me at the Maypoling, miss," murmured +the lad, without looking at her, and still stroking the firedog's +head.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Eustacia, with a little more hauteur. "You wanted to +join hands with me in the ring, if I recollect?"</p> + +<p>"Half an hour of that, and I'll agree, miss."</p> + +<p>Eustacia regarded the youth steadfastly. He was three years +younger than herself, but apparently not backward for his age. +"Half an hour of what?" she said, though she guessed what.</p> + +<p>"Holding your hand in mine."</p> + +<p>She was silent. "Make it a quarter of an hour," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Eustacia—I will, if I may kiss it too. A quarter of an +hour. And I'll swear to do the best I can to let you take my place +without anybody knowing. Don't you think somebody might know your +tongue, miss?"</p> + +<p>"It is possible. But I will put a pebble in my mouth to make is +less likely. Very well; you shall be allowed to have my hand as +soon as you bring the dress and your sword and staff. I don't want +you any longer now."</p> + +<p>Charley departed, and Eustacia felt more and more interest in +life. Here was something to do: here was some one to see, and a +charmingly adventurous way to see him. "Ah," she said to herself, +"want of an object to live for—that's all is the matter with me!"</p> + +<p>Eustacia's manner was as a rule of a slumberous sort, her passions +being of the massive rather than the vivacious kind. But when +aroused she would make a dash which, just for the time, was not +unlike the move of a naturally lively person.</p> + +<p>On the question of recognition she was somewhat indifferent. By +the acting lads themselves she was not likely to be known. With +the guests who might be assembled she was hardly so secure. Yet +detection, after all, would be no such dreadful thing. The fact +only could be detected, her true motive never. It would be +instantly set down as the passing freak of a girl whose ways were +already considered singular. That she was doing for an earnest +reason what would most naturally be done in jest was at any rate a +safe secret.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>The next evening Eustacia stood punctually at the fuel-house door, +waiting for the dusk which was to bring Charley with the +trappings. Her grandfather was at home tonight, and she would be +unable to ask her confederate indoors.</p> + +<p>He appeared on the dark ridge of heathland, like a fly on a negro, +bearing the articles with him, and came up breathless with his +walk.</p> + +<p>"Here are the things," he whispered, placing them upon the +threshold. "And now, Miss Eustacia—"</p> + +<p>"The payment. It is quite ready. I am as good as my word."</p> + +<p>She leant against the door-post, and gave him her hand. Charley +took it in both his own with a tenderness beyond description, +unless it was like that of a child holding a captured sparrow.</p> + +<p>"Why, there's a glove on it!" he said in a deprecating way.</p> + +<p>"I have been walking," she observed.</p> + +<p>"But, miss!"</p> + +<p>"Well—it is hardly fair." She pulled off the glove, and gave him +her bare hand.</p> + +<p>They stood together minute after minute, without further speech, +each looking at the blackening scene, and each thinking his and +her own thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I think I won't use it all up tonight," said Charley devotedly, +when six or eight minutes had been passed by him caressing her +hand. "May I have the other few minutes another time?"</p> + +<p>"As you like," said she without the least emotion. "But it must be +over in a week. Now, there is only one thing I want you to do: to +wait while I put on the dress, and then to see if I do my part +properly. But let me look first indoors."</p> + +<p>She vanished for a minute or two, and went in. Her grandfather was +safely asleep in his chair. "Now, then," she said, on returning, +"walk down the garden a little way, and when I am ready I'll call +you."</p> + +<p>Charley walked and waited, and presently heard a soft whistle. He +returned to the fuel-house door.</p> + +<p>"Did you whistle, Miss Vye?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; come in," reached him in Eustacia's voice from a back +quarter. "I must not strike a light till the door is shut, or it +may be seen shining. Push your hat into the hole through to the +wash-house, if you can feel your way across."</p> + +<p>Charley did as commanded, and she struck the light, revealing +herself to be changed in sex, brilliant in colours, and armed from +top to toe. Perhaps she quailed a little under Charley's vigorous +gaze, but whether any shyness at her male attire appeared upon her +countenance could not be seen by reason of the strips of ribbon +which used to cover the face in mumming costumes, representing the +barred visor of the mediaeval helmet.</p> + +<p>"It fits pretty well," she said, looking down at the white +overalls, "except that the tunic, or whatever you call it, is long +in the sleeve. The bottom of the overalls I can turn up inside. +Now pay attention."</p> + +<p>Eustacia then proceeded in her delivery, striking the sword +against the staff or lance at the minatory phrases, in the +orthodox mumming manner, and strutting up and down. Charley +seasoned his admiration with criticism of the gentlest kind, for +the touch of Eustacia's hand yet remained with him.</p> + +<p>"And now for your excuse to the others," she said. "Where do you +meet before you go to Mrs. Yeobright's?"</p> + +<p>"We thought of meeting here, miss, if you have nothing to say +against it. At eight o'clock, so as to get there by nine."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Well, you of course must not appear. I will march in about +five minutes late, ready-dressed, and tell them that you can't +come. I have decided that the best plan will be for you to be sent +somewhere by me, to make a real thing of the excuse. Our two +heath-croppers are in the habit of straying into the meads, and +tomorrow evening you can go and see if they are gone there. I'll +manage the rest. Now you may leave me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss. But I think I'll have one minute more of what I am +owed, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>Eustacia gave him her hand as before.</p> + +<p>"One minute," she said, and counted on till she reached seven or +eight minutes. Hand and person she then withdrew to a distance of +several feet, and recovered some of her old dignity. The contract +completed, she raised between them a barrier impenetrable as a +wall.</p> + +<p>"There, 'tis all gone; and I didn't mean quite all," he said, with +a sigh.</p> + +<p>"You had good measure," said she, turning away.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss. Well, 'tis over, and now I'll get home-along."</p> + + +<p><a name="2-5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V</h3> +<h3>Through the Moonlight<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The next evening the mummers were assembled in the same spot, +awaiting the entrance of the Turkish Knight.</p> + +<p>"Twenty minutes after eight by the Quiet Woman, and Charley not +come."</p> + +<p>"Ten minutes past by Blooms-End."</p> + +<p>"It wants ten minutes to, by Grandfer Cantle's watch."</p> + +<p>"And 'tis five minutes past by the captain's clock."</p> + +<p>On Egdon there was no absolute hour of the day. The time at any +moment was a number of varying doctrines professed by the +different hamlets, some of them having originally grown up from a +common root, and then become divided by secession, some having +been alien from the beginning. West Egdon believed in Blooms-End +time, East Egdon in the time of the Quiet Woman Inn. Grandfer +Cantle's watch had numbered many followers in years gone by, but +since he had grown older faiths were shaken. Thus, the mummers +having gathered hither from scattered points each came with his +own tenets on early and late; and they waited a little longer as a +compromise.</p> + +<p>Eustacia had watched the assemblage through the hole; and seeing +that now was the proper moment to enter, she went from the +"linhay" and boldly pulled the bobbin of the fuel-house door. Her +grandfather was safe at the Quiet Woman.</p> + +<p>"Here's Charley at last! How late you be, Charley."</p> + +<p>"'Tis not Charley," said the Turkish Knight from within his visor. +"'Tis a cousin of Miss Vye's, come to take Charley's place from +curiosity. He was obliged to go and look for the heath-croppers +that have got into the meads, and I agreed to take his place, as +he knew he couldn't come back here again tonight. I know the part +as well as he."</p> + +<p>Her graceful gait, elegant figure, and dignified manner in general +won the mummers to the opinion that they had gained by the +exchange, if the newcomer were perfect in his part.</p> + +<p>"It don't matter—if you be not too young," said Saint George. +Eustacia's voice had sounded somewhat more juvenile and fluty than +Charley's.</p> + +<p>"I know every word of it, I tell you," said Eustacia decisively. +Dash being all that was required to carry her triumphantly +through, she adopted as much as was necessary. "Go ahead, lads, +with the try-over. I'll challenge any of you to find a mistake in +me."</p> + +<p>The play was hastily rehearsed, whereupon the other mummers were +delighted with the new knight. They extinguished the candles at +half-past eight, and set out upon the heath in the direction of +Mrs. Yeobright's house at Bloom's-End.</p> + +<p>There was a slight hoar-frost that night, and the moon, though not +more than half full, threw a spirited and enticing brightness upon +the fantastic figures of the mumming band, whose plumes and +ribbons rustled in their walk like autumn leaves. Their path was +not over Rainbarrow now, but down a valley which left that ancient +elevation a little to the east. The bottom of the vale was green +to a width of ten yards or thereabouts, and the shining facets of +frost upon the blades of grass seemed to move on with the shadows +of those they surrounded. The masses of furze and heath to the +right and left were dark as ever; a mere half-moon was powerless +to silver such sable features as theirs.</p> + +<p>Half-an-hour of walking and talking brought them to the spot in +the valley where the grass riband widened and led down to the +front of the house. At sight of the place Eustacia, who had felt a +few passing doubts during her walk with the youths, again was glad +that the adventure had been undertaken. She had come out to see a +man who might possibly have the power to deliver her soul from a +most deadly oppression. What was Wildeve? Interesting, but +inadequate. Perhaps she would see a sufficient hero tonight.</p> + +<p>As they drew nearer to the front of the house the mummers became +aware that music and dancing were briskly flourishing within. +Every now and then a long low note from the serpent, which was the +chief wind instrument played at these times, advanced further into +the heath than the thin treble part, and reached their ears alone; +and next a more than usually loud tread from a dancer would come the +same way. With nearer approach these fragmentary sounds became +pieced together, and were found to be the salient points of the +tune called "Nancy's Fancy."</p> + +<p>He was there, of course. Who was she that he danced with? Perhaps +some unknown woman, far beneath herself in culture, was by that +most subtle of lures sealing his fate this very instant. To dance +with a man is to concentrate a twelve-month's regulation fire upon +him in the fragment of an hour. To pass to courtship without +acquaintance, to pass to marriage without courtship, is a skipping +of terms reserved for those alone who tread this royal road. She +would see how his heart lay by keen observation of them all.</p> + +<p>The enterprising lady followed the mumming company through the +gate in the white paling, and stood before the open porch. The +house was encrusted with heavy thatchings, which dropped between +the upper windows; the front, upon which the moonbeams directly +played, had originally been white; but a huge pyracanth now +darkened the greater portion.</p> + +<p>It became at once evident that the dance was proceeding +immediately within the surface of the door, no apartment +intervening. The brushing of skirts and elbows, sometimes the +bumping of shoulders, could be heard against the very panels. +Eustacia, though living within two miles of the place, had never +seen the interior of this quaint old habitation. Between Captain +Vye and the Yeobrights there had never existed much acquaintance, +the former having come as a stranger and purchased the long-empty +house at Mistover Knap not long before the death of Mrs. +Yeobright's husband; and with that event and the departure of her +son such friendship as had grown up became quite broken off.</p> + +<p>"Is there no passage inside the door, then?" asked Eustacia as +they stood within the porch.</p> + +<p>"No," said the lad who played the Saracen. "The door opens right +upon the front sitting-room, where the spree's going on."</p> + +<p>"So that we cannot open the door without stopping the dance."</p> + +<p>"That's it. Here we must bide till they have done, for they always +bolt the back door after dark."</p> + +<p>"They won't be much longer," said Father Christmas.</p> + +<p>This assertion, however, was hardly borne out by the event. Again +the instruments ended the tune; again they recommenced with as +much fire and pathos as if it were the first strain. The air was +now that one without any particular beginning, middle, or end, +which perhaps, among all the dances which throng an inspired +fiddler's fancy, best conveys the idea of the interminable—the +celebrated "Devil's Dream." The fury of personal movement that was +kindled by the fury of the notes could be approximately imagined +by these outsiders under the moon, from the occasional kicks of +toes and heels against the door, whenever the whirl round had been +of more than customary velocity.</p> + +<p>The first five minutes of listening was interesting enough to the +mummers. The five minutes extended to ten minutes, and these to a +quarter of an hour; but no signs of ceasing were audible in the +lively Dream. The bumping against the door, the laughter, the +stamping, were all as vigorous as ever, and the pleasure in being +outside lessened considerably.</p> + +<p>"Why does Mrs. Yeobright give parties of this sort?" Eustacia +asked, a little surprised to hear merriment so pronounced.</p> + +<p>"It is not one of her bettermost parlour-parties. She's asked the +plain neighbours and workpeople without drawing any lines, just to +give 'em a good supper and such like. Her son and she wait upon +the folks."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"'Tis the last strain, I think," said Saint George, with his ear +to the panel. "A young man and woman have just swung into this +corner, and he's saying to her, 'Ah, the pity; 'tis over for us +this time, my own.'"</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" said the Turkish Knight, stamping, and taking from +the wall the conventional lance that each of the mummers carried. +Her boots being thinner than those of the young men, the hoar had +damped her feet and made them cold.</p> + +<p>"Upon my song 'tis another ten minutes for us," said the Valiant +Soldier, looking through the keyhole as the tune modulated into +another without stopping. "Grandfer Cantle is standing in this +corner, waiting his turn."</p> + +<p>"'Twon't be long; 'tis a six-handed reel," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Why not go in, dancing or no? They sent for us," said the +Saracen.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Eustacia authoritatively, as she paced +smartly up and down from door to gate to warm herself. "We should +burst into the middle of them and stop the dance, and that would +be unmannerly."</p> + +<p>"He thinks himself somebody because he has had a bit more +schooling than we," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"You may go to the deuce!" said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>There was a whispered conversation between three or four of them, +and one turned to her.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell us one thing?" he said, not without gentleness. "Be +you Miss Vye? We think you must be."</p> + +<p>"You may think what you like," said Eustacia slowly. "But +honourable lads will not tell tales upon a lady."</p> + +<p>"We'll say nothing, miss. That's upon our honour."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she replied.</p> + +<p>At this moment the fiddles finished off with a screech, and the +serpent emitted a last note that nearly lifted the roof. When, +from the comparative quiet within, the mummers judged that the +dancers had taken their seats, Father Christmas advanced, lifted +the latch, and put his head inside the door.</p> + +<p>"Ah, the mummers, the mummers!" cried several guests at once. +"Clear a space for the mummers."</p> + +<p>Hump-backed Father Christmas then made a complete entry, swinging +his huge club, and in a general way clearing the stage for the +actors proper, while he informed the company in smart verse that +he was come, welcome or welcome not; concluding his speech +with<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Make room, make room, my gallant boys,<br /> +<span class="ind2">And give us space to rhyme;</span><br /> + We've come to show Saint George's play,<br /> +<span class="ind2">Upon this Christmas time."</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>The guests were now arranging themselves at one end of the room, +the fiddler was mending a string, the serpent-player was emptying +his mouthpiece, and the play began. First of those outside the +Valiant Soldier entered, in the interest of Saint +George—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Here come I, the Valiant Soldier;<br /> +<span class="ind2">Slasher is my name;"</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">and so on. This speech +concluded with a challenge to the infidel, +at the end of which it was Eustacia's duty to enter as the Turkish +Knight. She, with the rest who were not yet on, had hitherto +remained in the moonlight which streamed under the porch. With no +apparent effort or backwardness she came in, +beginning—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Here come I, a Turkish Knight,<br /> + Who learnt in Turkish land to fight;<br /> + I'll fight this man with courage bold:<br /> + If his blood's hot I'll make it cold!"<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>During her declamation Eustacia held her head erect, and spoke as +roughly as she could, feeling pretty secure from observation. But +the concentration upon her part necessary to prevent discovery, +the newness of the scene, the shine of the candles, and the +confusing effect upon her vision of the ribboned visor which hid +her features, left her absolutely unable to perceive who were +present as spectators. On the further side of a table bearing +candles she could faintly discern faces, and that was all.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Jim Starks as the Valiant Soldier had come forward, and, +with a glare upon the Turk, replied—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"If, then, thou art that Turkish Knight,<br /> + Draw out thy sword, and let us fight!"<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>And fight they did; the issue of the combat being that the Valiant +Soldier was slain by a preternaturally inadequate thrust from +Eustacia, Jim, in his ardour for genuine histrionic art, coming +down like a log upon the stone floor with force enough to +dislocate his shoulder. Then, after more words from the Turkish +Knight, rather too faintly delivered, and statements that he'd +fight Saint George and all his crew, Saint George himself +magnificently entered with the well-known flourish—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind2">"Here +come I, Saint George, the valiant man,</span><br /> +<span class="ind2"> With naked sword and spear in hand,</span><br /> +Who fought the dragon and brought him to the slaughter,<br /> +And by this won fair Sabra, the King of Egypt's +daughter;<br /> +<span class="ind2"> What mortal man would dare to stand</span><br /> +<span class="ind2"> Before me with my sword +in hand?"</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This was the lad who had first recognized Eustacia; and when she +now, as the Turk, replied with suitable defiance, and at once +began the combat, the young fellow took especial care to use his +sword as gently as possible. Being wounded, the Knight fell upon +one knee, according to the direction. The Doctor now entered, +restored the Knight by giving him a draught from the bottle which +he carried, and the fight was again resumed, the Turk sinking by +degrees until quite overcome—dying as hard in this venerable +drama as he is said to do at the present day.</p> + +<p>This gradual sinking to the earth was, in fact, one reason why +Eustacia had thought that the part of the Turkish Knight, though +not the shortest, would suit her best. A direct fall from upright +to horizontal, which was the end of the other fighting characters, +was not an elegant or decorous part for a girl. But it was easy to +die like a Turk, by a dogged decline.</p> + +<p>Eustacia was now among the number of the slain, though not on the +floor, for she had managed to sink into a sloping position against +the clock-case, so that her head was well elevated. The play +proceeded between Saint George, the Saracen, the Doctor, and +Father Christmas; and Eustacia, having no more to do, for the +first time found leisure to observe the scene round, and to search +for the form that had drawn her hither.</p> + + +<p><a name="2-6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI</h3> +<h3>The Two Stand Face to Face<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The room had been arranged with a view to the dancing, the large +oak table having been moved back till it stood as a breastwork to +the fireplace. At each end, behind, and in the chimney-corner were +grouped the guests, many of them being warm-faced and panting, +among whom Eustacia cursorily recognized some well-to-do persons +from beyond the heath. Thomasin, as she had expected, was not +visible, and Eustacia recollected that a light had shone from an +upper window when they were outside—the window, probably, of +Thomasin's room. A nose, chin, hands, knees, and toes projected +from the seat within the chimney opening, which members she found +to unite in the person of Grandfer Cantle, Mrs. Yeobright's +occasional assistant in the garden, and therefore one of the +invited. The smoke went up from an Etna of peat in front of him, +played round the notches of the chimney-crook, struck against the +saltbox, and got lost among the flitches.</p> + +<p>Another part of the room soon riveted her gaze. At the other side +of the chimney stood the settle, which is the necessary supplement +to a fire so open that nothing less than a strong breeze will +carry up the smoke. It is, to the hearths of old-fashioned +cavernous fireplaces, what the east belt of trees is to the +exposed country estate, or the north wall to the garden. Outside +the settle candles gutter, locks of hair wave, young women shiver, +and old men sneeze. Inside is Paradise. Not a symptom of a draught +disturbs the air; the sitters' backs are as warm as their faces, +and songs and old tales are drawn from the occupants by the +comfortable heat, like fruit from melon plants in a frame.</p> + +<p>It was, however, not with those who sat in the settle that +Eustacia was concerned. A face showed itself with marked +distinctness against the dark-tanned wood of the upper part. The +owner, who was leaning against the settle's outer end, was Clement +Yeobright, or Clym, as he was called here; she knew it could be +nobody else. The spectacle constituted an area of two feet in +Rembrandt's intensest manner. A strange power in the lounger's +appearance lay in the fact that, though his whole figure was +visible, the observer's eye was only aware of his face.</p> + +<p>To one of middle age the countenance was that of a young man, +though a youth might hardly have seen any necessity for the term +of immaturity. But it was really one of those faces which convey +less the idea of so many years as its age than of so much +experience as its store. The number of their years may have +adequately summed up Jared, Mahalaleel, and the rest of the +antediluvians, but the age of a modern man is to be measured by +the intensity of his history.</p> + +<p>The face was well shaped, even excellently. But the mind within +was beginning to use it as a mere waste tablet whereon to trace +its idiosyncrasies as they developed themselves. The beauty here +visible would in no long time be ruthlessly over-run by its +parasite, thought, which might just as well have fed upon a +plainer exterior where there was nothing it could harm. Had Heaven +preserved Yeobright from a wearing habit of meditation, people +would have said, "A handsome man." Had his brain unfolded under +sharper contours they would have said, "A thoughtful man." But an +inner strenuousness was preying upon an outer symmetry, and they +rated his look as singular.</p> + +<p>Hence people who began by beholding him ended by perusing him. His +countenance was overlaid with legible meanings. Without being +thought-worn he yet had certain marks derived from a perception of +his surroundings, such as are not unfrequently found on men at the +end of the four or five years of endeavour which follow the close +of placid pupilage. He already showed that thought is a disease of +flesh, and indirectly bore evidence that ideal physical beauty is +incompatible with emotional development and a full recognition of +the coil of things. Mental luminousness must be fed with the oil +of life, even though there is already a physical need for it; and +the pitiful sight of two demands on one supply was just showing +itself here.</p> + +<p>When standing before certain men the philosopher regrets that +thinkers are but perishable tissue, the artist that perishable +tissue has to think. Thus to deplore, each from his point of view, +the mutually destructive interdependence of spirit and flesh would +have been instinctive with these in critically observing +Yeobright.</p> + +<p>As for his look, it was a natural cheerfulness striving against +depression from without, and not quite succeeding. The look +suggested isolation, but it revealed something more. As is usual +with bright natures, the deity that lies ignominiously chained +within an ephemeral human carcase shone out of him like a ray.</p> + +<p>The effect upon Eustacia was palpable. The extraordinary pitch of +excitement that she had reached beforehand would, indeed, have +caused her to be influenced by the most commonplace man. She was +troubled at Yeobright's presence.</p> + +<p>The remainder of the play ended: the Saracen's head was cut off, +and Saint George stood as victor. Nobody commented, any more than +they would have commented on the fact of mushrooms coming in +autumn or snowdrops in spring. They took the piece as +phlegmatically as did the actors themselves. It was a phase of +cheerfulness which was, as a matter of course, to be passed +through every Christmas; and there was no more to be said.</p> + +<p>They sang the plaintive chant which follows the play, during which +all the dead men rise to their feet in a silent and awful manner, +like the ghosts of Napoleon's soldiers in the Midnight Review. +Afterwards the door opened, and Fairway appeared on the threshold, +accompanied by Christian and another. They had been waiting +outside for the conclusion of the play, as the players had waited +for the conclusion of the dance.</p> + +<p>"Come in, come in," said Mrs. Yeobright; and Clym went forward to +welcome them. "How is it you are so late? Grandfer Cantle has been +here ever so long, and we thought you'd have come with him, as you +live so near one another."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should have come earlier," Mr. Fairway said, and paused +to look along the beam of the ceiling for a nail to hang his hat on; +but, finding his accustomed one to be occupied by the mistletoe, +and all the nails in the walls to be burdened with bunches of +holly, he at last relieved himself of the hat by ticklishly +balancing it between the candlebox and the head of the +clock-case. "I should have come earlier, ma'am," he resumed, with +a more composed air, "but I know what parties be, and how there's +none too much room in folks' houses at such times, so I thought I +wouldn't come till you'd got settled a bit."</p> + +<p>"And I thought so too, Mrs. Yeobright," said Christian earnestly, +"but father there was so eager that he had no manners at all, and +left home almost afore 'twas dark. I told him 'twas barely decent +in a' old man to come so oversoon; but words be wind."</p> + +<p>"Klk! I wasn't going to bide waiting about, till half the game was +over! I'm as light as a kite when anything's going on!" crowed +Grandfer Cantle from the chimney-seat.</p> + +<p>Fairway had meanwhile concluded a critical gaze at Yeobright. +"Now, you may not believe it," he said to the rest of the room, +"but I should never have knowed this gentleman if I had met him +anywhere off his own he'th—he's altered so much."</p> + +<p>"You too have altered, and for the better, I think Timothy," said +Yeobright, surveying the firm figure of Fairway.</p> + +<p>"Master Yeobright, look me over too. I have altered for the +better, haven't I, hey?" said Grandfer Cantle, rising and placing +himself something above half a foot from Clym's eye, to induce the +most searching criticism.</p> + +<p>"To be sure we will," said Fairway, taking the candle and moving +it over the surface of the Grandfer's countenance, the subject of +his scrutiny irradiating himself with light and pleasant smiles, +and giving himself jerks of juvenility.</p> + +<p>"You haven't changed much," said Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"If there's any difference, Grandfer is younger," appended Fairway +decisively.</p> + +<p>"And yet not my own doing, and I feel no pride in it," said the +pleased ancient. "But I can't be cured of my vagaries; them I +plead guilty to. Yes, Master Cantle always was that, as we know. +But I am nothing by the side of you, Mister Clym."</p> + +<p>"Nor any o' us," said Humphrey, in a low rich tone of admiration, +not intended to reach anybody's ears.</p> + +<p>"Really, there would have been nobody here who could have stood as +decent second to him, or even third, if I hadn't been a soldier in +the Bang-up Locals (as we was called for our smartness)," said +Grandfer Cantle. "And even as 'tis we all look a little scammish +beside him. But in the year four 'twas said there wasn't a finer +figure in the whole South Wessex than I, as I looked when dashing +past the shop-winders with the rest of our company on the day we +ran out o' Budmouth because it was thoughted that Boney had landed +round the point. There was I, straight as a young poplar, wi' my +firelock, and my bag-net, and my spatter-dashes, and my stock sawing +my jaws off, and my accoutrements sheening like the seven stars! +Yes, neighbours, I was a pretty sight in my soldiering days. You +ought to have seen me in four!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis his mother's side where Master Clym's figure comes from, +bless ye," said Timothy. "I know'd her brothers well. Longer +coffins were never made in the whole country of South Wessex, and +'tis said that poor George's knees were crumpled up a little e'en +as 'twas."</p> + +<p>"Coffins, where?" inquired Christian, drawing nearer. "Have the +ghost of one appeared to anybody, Master Fairway?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. Don't let your mind so mislead your ears, Christian; and +be a man," said Timothy reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"I will." said Christian. "But now I think o't my shadder last +night seemed just the shape of a coffin. What is it a sign of when +your shade's like a coffin, neighbours? It can't be nothing to be +afeared of, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Afeared, no!" said the Grandfer. "Faith, I was never afeard of +nothing except Boney, or I shouldn't ha' been the soldier I was. +Yes, 'tis a thousand pities you didn't see me in four!"</p> + +<p>By this time the mummers were preparing to leave; but Mrs. +Yeobright stopped them by asking them to sit down and have a +little supper. To this invitation Father Christmas, in the name of +them all, readily agreed.</p> + +<p>Eustacia was happy in the opportunity of staying a little longer. +The cold and frosty night without was doubly frigid to her. But +the lingering was not without its difficulties. Mrs. Yeobright, +for want of room in the larger apartment, placed a bench for the +mummers half-way through the pantry door, which opened from the +sitting-room. Here they seated themselves in a row, the door being +left open: thus they were still virtually in the same apartment. +Mrs. Yeobright now murmured a few words to her son, who crossed +the room to the pantry-door, striking his head against the +mistletoe as he passed, and brought the mummers beef and bread, +cake pastry, mead, and elder-wine, the waiting being done by him +and his mother, that the little maid-servant might sit as guest. +The mummers doffed their helmets, and began to eat and drink.</p> + +<p>"But you will surely have some?" said Clym to the Turkish Knight, +as he stood before that warrior, tray in hand. She had refused, +and still sat covered, only the sparkle of her eyes being visible +between the ribbons which covered her face.</p> + +<p>"None, thank you," replied Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"He's quite a youngster," said the Saracen apologetically, "and +you must excuse him. He's not one of the old set, but have jined +us because t'other couldn't come."</p> + +<p>"But he will take something?" persisted Yeobright. "Try a glass of +mead or elder-wine."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you had better try that," said the Saracen. "It will keep +the cold out going home-along."</p> + +<p>Though Eustacia could not eat without uncovering her face she +could drink easily enough beneath her disguise. The elder-wine was +accordingly accepted, and the glass vanished inside the ribbons.</p> + +<p>At moments during this performance Eustacia was half in doubt +about the security of her position; yet it had a fearful joy. A +series of attentions paid to her, and yet not to her but to some +imaginary person, by the first man she had ever been inclined to +adore, complicated her emotions indescribably. She had loved him +partly because he was exceptional in this scene, partly because +she had determined to love him, chiefly because she was in +desperate need of loving somebody after wearying of Wildeve. +Believing that she must love him in spite of herself, she had been +influenced after the fashion of the second Lord Lyttleton and +other persons, who have dreamed that they were to die on a certain +day, and by stress of a morbid imagination have actually brought +about that event. Once let a maiden admit the possibility of her +being stricken with love for some one at a certain hour and place, +and the thing is as good as done.</p> + +<p>Did anything at this moment suggest to Yeobright the sex of the +creature whom that fantastic guise inclosed, how extended was her +scope both in feeling and in making others feel, and how far her +compass transcended that of her companions in the band? When the +disguised Queen of Love appeared before Aeneas a preternatural +perfume accompanied her presence and betrayed her quality. If such +a mysterious emanation ever was projected by the emotions of an +earthly woman upon their object, it must have signified Eustacia's +presence to Yeobright now. He looked at her wistfully, then seemed +to fall into a reverie, as if he were forgetting what he observed. +The momentary situation ended, he passed on, and Eustacia sipped +her wine without knowing what she drank. The man for whom she had +predetermined to nourish a passion went into the small room, and +across it to the further extremity.</p> + +<p>The mummers, as has been stated, were seated on a bench, one end +of which extended into the small apartment, or pantry, for want of +space in the outer room. Eustacia, partly from shyness, had chosen +the midmost seat, which thus commanded a view of the interior of +the pantry as well as the room containing the guests. When Clym +passed down the pantry her eyes followed him in the gloom which +prevailed there. At the remote end was a door which, just as he +was about to open it for himself, was opened by somebody within; +and light streamed forth.</p> + +<p>The person was Thomasin, with a candle, looking anxious, pale, and +interesting. Yeobright appeared glad to see her, and pressed her +hand. "That's right, Tamsie," he said heartily, as though recalled +to himself by the sight of her, "you have decided to come down. I +am glad of it."</p> + +<p>"Hush—no, no," she said quickly. "I only came to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"But why not join us?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot. At least I would rather not. I am not well enough, and +we shall have plenty of time together now you are going to be home +a good long holiday."</p> + +<p>"It isn't nearly so pleasant without you. Are you really ill?"</p> + +<p>"Just a little, my old cousin—here," she said, playfully sweeping +her hand across her heart.</p> + +<p>"Ah, mother should have asked somebody else to be present tonight, +perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"O no, indeed. I merely stepped down, Clym, to ask you—" Here he +followed her through the doorway into the private room beyond, +and, the door closing, Eustacia and the mummer who sat next to +her, the only other witness of the performance, saw and heard no +more.</p> + +<p>The heat flew to Eustacia's head and cheeks. She instantly guessed +that Clym, having been home only these two or three days, had not +as yet been made acquainted with Thomasin's painful situation with +regard to Wildeve; and seeing her living there just as she had +been living before he left home, he naturally suspected nothing. +Eustacia felt a wild jealousy of Thomasin on the instant. Though +Thomasin might possibly have tender sentiments towards another man +as yet, how long could they be expected to last when she was shut +up here with this interesting and travelled cousin of hers? There +was no knowing what affection might not soon break out between the +two, so constantly in each other's society, and not a distracting +object near. Clym's boyish love for her might have languished, but +it might easily be revived again.</p> + +<p>Eustacia was nettled by her own contrivances. What a sheer waste +of herself to be dressed thus while another was shining to +advantage! Had she known the full effect of the encounter she +would have moved heaven and earth to get here in a natural manner. +The power of her face all lost, the charm of her emotions all +disguised, the fascinations of her coquetry denied existence, +nothing but a voice left to her; she had a sense of the doom of +Echo. "Nobody here respects me," she said. She had overlooked the +fact that, in coming as a boy among other boys, she would be +treated as a boy. The slight, though of her own causing, and +self-explanatory, she was unable to dismiss as unwittingly shown, +so sensitive had the situation made her.</p> + +<p>Women have done much for themselves in histrionic dress. To look +far below those who, like a certain fair personator of Polly +Peachum early in the last century, and another of Lydia Languish +early in this, have won not only love but ducal coronets into +the bargain, whole shoals of them have reached to the initial +satisfaction of getting love almost whence they would. But the +Turkish Knight was denied even the chance of achieving this by the +fluttering ribbons which she dared not brush aside.</p> + +<p>Yeobright returned to the room without his cousin. When within two +or three feet of Eustacia he stopped, as if again arrested by a +thought. He was gazing at her. She looked another way, +disconcerted, and wondered how long this purgatory was to last. +After lingering a few seconds he passed on again.</p> + +<p>To court their own discomfiture by love is a common instinct with +certain perfervid women. Conflicting sensations of love, fear, and +shame reduced Eustacia to a state of the utmost uneasiness. To +escape was her great and immediate desire. The other mummers +appeared to be in no hurry to leave; and murmuring to the lad who +sat next to her that she preferred waiting for them outside the +house, she moved to the door as imperceptibly as possible, opened +it, and slipped out.</p> + +<p>The calm, lone scene reassured her. She went forward to the +palings and leant over them, looking at the moon. She had stood +thus but a little time when the door again opened. Expecting to +see the remainder of the band Eustacia turned; but no—Clym +Yeobright came out as softly as she had done, and closed the door +behind him.</p> + +<p>He advanced and stood beside her. "I have an odd opinion," he +said, "and should like to ask you a question. Are you a woman—or +am I wrong?"</p> + +<p>"I am a woman."</p> + +<p>His eyes lingered on her with great interest. "Do girls often play +as mummers now? They never used to."</p> + +<p>"They don't now."</p> + +<p>"Why did you?"</p> + +<p>"To get excitement and shake off depression," she said in low +tones.</p> + +<p>"What depressed you?"</p> + +<p>"Life."</p> + +<p>"That's a cause of depression a good many have to put up with."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>A long silence. "And do you find excitement?" asked Clym at last.</p> + +<p>"At this moment, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Then you are vexed at being discovered?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; though I thought I might be."</p> + +<p>"I would gladly have asked you to our party had I known you wished +to come. Have I ever been acquainted with you in my youth?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Won't you come in again, and stay as long as you like?"</p> + +<p>"No. I wish not to be further recognized."</p> + +<p>"Well, you are safe with me." After remaining in thought a minute +he added gently, "I will not intrude upon you longer. It is a +strange way of meeting, and I will not ask why I find a cultivated +woman playing such a part as this."</p> + +<p>She did not volunteer the reason which he seemed to +hope for, and he wished her good night, +going thence round to the back of the house, where he walked up +and down by himself for some time before re-entering.</p> + +<p>Eustacia, warmed with an inner fire, could not wait for her +companions after this. She flung back the ribbons from her face, +opened the gate, and at once struck into the heath. She did not +hasten along. Her grandfather was in bed at this hour, for she so +frequently walked upon the hills on moonlight nights that he took +no notice of her comings and goings, and, enjoying himself in his +own way, left her to do likewise. A more important subject than +that of getting indoors now engrossed her. Yeobright, if he had +the least curiosity, would infallibly discover her name. What +then? She first felt a sort of exultation at the way in which the +adventure had terminated, even though at moments between her +exultations she was abashed and blushful. Then this consideration +recurred to chill her: What was the use of her exploit? She was at +present a total stranger to the Yeobright family. The unreasonable +nimbus of romance with which she had encircled that man might be +her misery. How could she allow herself to become so infatuated +with a stranger? And to fill the cup of her sorrow there would be +Thomasin, living day after day in inflammable proximity to him; +for she had just learnt that, contrary to her first belief, he was +going to stay at home some considerable time.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>She reached the wicket at Mistover Knap, but before opening it she +turned and faced the heath once more. The form of Rainbarrow stood +above the hills, and the moon stood above Rainbarrow. The air was +charged with silence and frost. The scene reminded Eustacia of a +circumstance which till that moment she had totally forgotten. She +had promised to meet Wildeve by the Barrow this very night at +eight, to give a final answer to his pleading for an elopement.</p> + +<p>She herself had fixed the evening and the hour. He had probably +come to the spot, waited there in the cold, and been greatly +disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Well, so much the better: it did not hurt him," she said +serenely. Wildeve had at present the rayless outline of the sun +through smoked glass, and she could say such things as that with +the greatest facility.</p> + +<p>She remained deeply pondering; and Thomasin's winning manner +towards her cousin arose again upon Eustacia's mind.</p> + +<p>"O that she had been married to Damon before this!" she said. "And +she would if it hadn't been for me! If I had only known—if I had +only known!"</p> + +<p>Eustacia once more lifted her deep stormy eyes to the moonlight, +and, sighing that tragic sigh of hers which was so much like a +shudder, entered the shadow of the roof. She threw off her +trappings in the out-house, rolled them up, and went indoors to her +chamber.</p> + + +<p><a name="2-7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII</h3> +<h3>A Coalition between Beauty and Oddness<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The old captain's prevailing indifference to his granddaughter's +movements left her free as a bird to follow her own courses; but +it so happened that he did take upon himself the next morning to +ask her why she had walked out so late.</p> + +<p>"Only in search of events, grandfather," she said, looking out of +the window with that drowsy latency of manner which discovered so +much force behind it whenever the trigger was pressed.</p> + +<p>"Search of events—one would think you were one of the bucks I +knew at one-and-twenty."</p> + +<p>"It is so lonely here."</p> + +<p>"So much the better. If I were living in a town my whole time +would be taken up in looking after you. I fully expected you would +have been home when I returned from the Woman."</p> + +<p>"I won't conceal what I did. I wanted an adventure, and I went +with the mummers. I played the part of the Turkish Knight."</p> + +<p>"No, never? Ha, ha! Good gad! I didn't expect it of you, +Eustacia."</p> + +<p>"It was my first performance, and it certainly will be my last. +Now I have told you—and remember it is a secret."</p> + +<p>"Of course. But, Eustacia, you never did—ha! ha! Dammy, how +'twould have pleased me forty years ago! But remember, no more of +it, my girl. You may walk on the heath night or day, as you +choose, so that you don't bother me; but no figuring in breeches +again."</p> + +<p>"You need have no fear for me, grandpapa."</p> + +<p>Here the conversation ceased, Eustacia's moral training never +exceeding in severity a dialogue of this sort, which, if it ever +became profitable to good works, would be a result not dear at the +price. But her thoughts soon strayed far from her own personality; +and, full of a passionate and indescribable solicitude for one to +whom she was not even a name, she went forth into the amplitude of +tanned wild around her, restless as Ahasuerus the Jew. She was +about half a mile from her residence when she beheld a sinister +redness arising from a ravine a little way in advance—dull and +lurid like a flame in sunlight and she guessed it to signify +Diggory Venn.</p> + +<p>When the farmers who had wished to buy in a new stock of reddle +during the last month had inquired where Venn was to be found, +people replied, "On Egdon Heath." Day after day the answer was the +same. Now, since Egdon was populated with heath-croppers and +furze-cutters rather than with sheep and shepherds, and the downs +where most of the latter were to be found lay some to the north, +some to the west of Egdon, his reason for camping about there like +Israel in Zin was not apparent. The position was central and +occasionally desirable. But the sale of reddle was not Diggory's +primary object in remaining on the heath, particularly at so late +a period of the year, when most travellers of his class had gone +into winter quarters.</p> + +<p>Eustacia looked at the lonely man. Wildeve had told her at their +last meeting that Venn had been thrust forward by Mrs. Yeobright +as one ready and anxious to take his place as Thomasin's +betrothed. His figure was perfect, his face young and well +outlined, his eyes bright, his intelligence keen, and his position +one which he could readily better if he chose. But in spite of +possibilities it was not likely that Thomasin would accept this +Ishmaelitish creature while she had a cousin like Yeobright at her +elbow, and Wildeve at the same time not absolutely indifferent. +Eustacia was not long in guessing that poor Mrs. Yeobright, in her +anxiety for her niece's future, had mentioned this lover to +stimulate the zeal of the other. Eustacia was on the side of the +Yeobrights now, and entered into the spirit of the aunt's desire.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, miss," said the reddleman, taking off his cap of +hareskin, and apparently bearing her no ill-will from recollection +of their last meeting.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, reddleman," she said, hardly troubling to lift her +heavily shaded eyes to his. "I did not know you were so near. Is +your van here too?"</p> + +<p>Venn moved his elbow towards a hollow in which a dense brake of +purple-stemmed brambles had grown to such vast dimensions as +almost to form a dell. Brambles, though churlish when handled, are +kindly shelter in early winter, being the latest of the deciduous +bushes to lose their leaves. The roof and chimney of Venn's +caravan showed behind the tracery and tangles of the brake.</p> + +<p>"You remain near this part?" she asked with more interest.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have business here."</p> + +<p>"Not altogether the selling of reddle?"</p> + +<p>"It has nothing to do with that."</p> + +<p>"It has to do with Miss Yeobright?"</p> + +<p>Her face seemed to ask for an armed peace, and he therefore said +frankly, "Yes, miss; it is on account of her."</p> + +<p>"On account of your approaching marriage with her?"</p> + +<p>Venn flushed through his stain. "Don't make sport of me, Miss +Vye," he said.</p> + +<p>"It isn't true?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>She was thus convinced that the reddleman was a mere <i>pis +aller</i> in Mrs. Yeobright's mind; one, moreover, who had not even +been informed of his promotion to that lowly standing. "It was a +mere notion of mine," she said quietly; and was about to pass by +without further speech, when, looking round to the right, she saw +a painfully well-known figure serpentining upwards by one of the +little paths which led to the top where she stood. Owing to the +necessary windings of his course his back was at present towards +them. She glanced quickly round; to escape that man there was only +one way. Turning to Venn, she said, "Would you allow me to rest a +few minutes in your van? The banks are damp for sitting on."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, miss; I'll make a place for you."</p> + +<p>She followed him behind the dell of brambles to his wheeled +dwelling, into which Venn mounted, placing the three-legged stool +just within the door.</p> + +<p>"That is the best I can do for you," he said, stepping down and +retiring to the path, where he resumed the smoking of his pipe as +he walked up and down.</p> + +<p>Eustacia bounded into the vehicle and sat on the stool, ensconced +from view on the side towards the trackway. Soon she heard the +brushing of other feet than the reddleman's, a not very friendly +"Good day" uttered by two men in passing each other, and then the +dwindling of the footfall of one of them in a direction onwards. +Eustacia stretched her neck forward till she caught a glimpse of a +receding back and shoulders; and she felt a wretched twinge of +misery, she knew not why. It was the sickening feeling which, if +the changed heart has any generosity at all in its composition, +accompanies the sudden sight of a once-loved one who is beloved no +more.</p> + +<p>When Eustacia descended to proceed on her way the reddleman came +near. "That was Mr. Wildeve who passed, miss," he said slowly, and +expressed by his face that he expected her to feel vexed at having +been sitting unseen.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw him coming up the hill," replied Eustacia. "Why should +you tell me that?" It was a bold question, considering the +reddleman's knowledge of her past love; but her undemonstrative +manner had power to repress the opinions of those she treated as +remote from her.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear that you can ask it," said the reddleman +bluntly. "And, now I think of it, it agrees with what I saw last +night."</p> + +<p>"Ah—what was that?" Eustacia wished to leave him, but wished to +know.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wildeve stayed at Rainbarrow a long time waiting for a lady +who didn't come."</p> + +<p>"You waited too, it seems?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I always do. I was glad to see him disappointed. He will be +there again tonight."</p> + +<p>"To be again disappointed. The truth is, reddleman, that that +lady, so far from wishing to stand in the way of Thomasin's +marriage with Mr. Wildeve, would be very glad to promote it."</p> + +<p>Venn felt much astonishment at this avowal, though he did not show +it clearly; that exhibition may greet remarks which are one remove +from expectation, but it is usually withheld in complicated cases +of two removes and upwards. "Indeed, miss," he replied.</p> + +<p>"How do you know that Mr. Wildeve will come to Rainbarrow again +tonight?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I heard him say to himself that he would. He's in a regular +temper."</p> + +<p>Eustacia looked for a moment what she felt, and she murmured, +lifting her deep dark eyes anxiously to his, "I wish I knew what +to do. I don't want to be uncivil to him; but I don't wish to see +him again; and I have some few little things to return to him."</p> + +<p>"If you choose to send 'em by me, miss, and a note to tell him +that you wish to say no more to him, I'll take it for you quite +privately. That would be the most straightforward way of letting +him know your mind."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Eustacia. "Come towards my house, and I will +bring it out to you."</p> + +<p>She went on, and as the path was an infinitely small parting in +the shaggy locks of the heath, the reddleman followed exactly in +her trail. She saw from a distance that the captain was on the +bank sweeping the horizon with his telescope; and bidding Venn to +wait where he stood she entered the house alone.</p> + +<p>In ten minutes she returned with a parcel and a note, and said, in +placing them in his hand, "Why are you so ready to take these for +me?"</p> + +<p>"Can you ask that?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you think to serve Thomasin in some way by it. Are you +as anxious as ever to help on her marriage?"</p> + +<p>Venn was a little moved. "I would sooner have married her myself," +he said in a low voice. "But what I feel is that if she cannot be +happy without him I will do my duty in helping her to get him, as +a man ought."</p> + +<p>Eustacia looked curiously at the singular man who spoke thus. What +a strange sort of love, to be entirely free from that quality of +selfishness which is frequently the chief constituent of the +passion, and sometimes its only one! The reddleman's +disinterestedness was so well deserving of respect that it +overshot respect by being barely comprehended; and she almost +thought it absurd.</p> + +<p>"Then we are both of one mind at last," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Venn gloomily. "But if you would tell me, miss, why +you take such an interest in her, I should be easier. It is so +sudden and strange."</p> + +<p>Eustacia appeared at a loss. "I cannot tell you that, reddleman," +she said coldly.</p> + +<p>Venn said no more. He pocketed the letter, and, bowing to +Eustacia, went away.</p> + +<p>Rainbarrow had again become blended with night when Wildeve +ascended the long acclivity at its base. On his reaching the top a +shape grew up from the earth immediately behind him. It was that +of Eustacia's emissary. He slapped Wildeve on the shoulder. The +feverish young innkeeper and ex-engineer started like Satan at +the touch of Ithuriel's spear.</p> + +<p>"The meeting is always at eight o'clock, at this place," said +Venn, "and here we are—we three."</p> + +<p>"We three?" said Wildeve, looking quickly round.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you, and I, and she. This is she." He held up the letter and +parcel.</p> + +<p>Wildeve took them wonderingly. "I don't quite see what this +means," he said. "How do you come here? There must be some +mistake."</p> + +<p>"It will be cleared from your mind when you have read the letter. +Lanterns for one." The reddleman struck a light, kindled an inch +of tallow-candle which he had brought, and sheltered it with his +cap.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" said Wildeve, discerning by the candlelight an +obscure rubicundity of person in his companion. "You are the +reddleman I saw on the hill this morning—why, you are the man +who—"</p> + +<p>"Please read the letter."</p> + +<p>"If you had come from the other one I shouldn't have been +surprised," murmured Wildeve as he opened the letter and read. His +face grew serious.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">To Mr. +Wildeve</span>.</p> + +<p>After some thought I have decided once and for all that we must +hold no further communication. The more I consider the matter the +more I am convinced that there must be an end to our acquaintance. +Had you been uniformly faithful to me throughout these two years +you might now have some ground for accusing me of heartlessness; +but if you calmly consider what I bore during the period of your +desertion, and how I passively put up with your courtship of +another without once interfering, you will, I think, own that I +have a right to consult my own feelings when you come back to me +again. That these are not what they were towards you may, perhaps, +be a fault in me, but it is one which you can scarcely reproach me +for when you remember how you left me for Thomasin.</p> + +<p>The little articles you gave me in the early part of our +friendship are returned by the bearer of this letter. They should +rightly have been sent back when I first heard of your engagement +to her.</p> + +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Eustacia + </span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>By the time that Wildeve reached her name the blankness with which +he had read the first half of the letter intensified to +mortification. "I am made a great fool of, one way and another," +he said pettishly. "Do you know what is in this letter?"</p> + +<p>The reddleman hummed a tune.</p> + +<p>"Can't you answer me?" asked Wildeve warmly.</p> + +<p>"Ru-um-tum-tum," sang the reddleman.</p> + +<p>Wildeve stood looking on the ground beside Venn's feet, till he +allowed his eyes to travel upwards over Diggory's form, as +illuminated by the candle, to his head and face. "Ha-ha! Well, I +suppose I deserve it, considering how I have played with them +both," he said at last, as much to himself as to Venn. "But of all +the odd things that ever I knew, the oddest is that you should so +run counter to your own interests as to bring this to me."</p> + +<p>"My interests?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. 'Twas your interest not to do anything which would +send me courting Thomasin again, now she has accepted you—or +something like it. Mrs. Yeobright says you are to marry her. +'Tisn't true, then?"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! I heard of this before, but didn't believe it. When +did she say so?"</p> + +<p>Wildeve began humming as the reddleman had done.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it now," cried Venn.</p> + +<p>"Ru-um-tum-tum," sang Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"O Lord—how we can imitate!" said Venn contemptuously. "I'll have +this out. I'll go straight to her."</p> + +<p>Diggory withdrew with an emphatic step, Wildeve's eye passing over +his form in withering derision, as if he were no more than a +heath-cropper. When the reddleman's figure could no longer be +seen, Wildeve himself descended and plunged into the rayless +hollow of the vale.</p> + +<p>To lose the two women—he who had been the well-beloved of +both—was too ironical an issue to be endured. He could only +decently save himself by Thomasin; and once he became her husband, +Eustacia's repentance, he thought, would set in for a long and +bitter term. It was no wonder that Wildeve, ignorant of the new +man at the back of the scene, should have supposed Eustacia to be +playing a part. To believe that the letter was not the result of +some momentary pique, to infer that she really gave him up to +Thomasin, would have required previous knowledge of her +transfiguration by that man's influence. Who was to know that she +had grown generous in the greediness of a new passion, that in +coveting one cousin she was dealing liberally with another, that +in her eagerness to appropriate she gave way?</p> + +<p>Full of this resolve to marry in haste, and wring the heart of the +proud girl, Wildeve went his way.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Diggory Venn had returned to his van, where he stood +looking thoughtfully into the stove. A new vista was opened up to +him. But, however promising Mrs. Yeobright's views of him might be +as a candidate for her niece's hand, one condition was +indispensable to the favour of Thomasin herself, and that was a +renunciation of his present wild mode of life. In this he saw +little difficulty.</p> + +<p>He could not afford to wait till the next day before seeing +Thomasin and detailing his plan. He speedily plunged himself into +toilet operations, pulled a suit of cloth clothes from a box, and +in about twenty minutes stood before the van-lantern as a +reddleman in nothing but his face, the vermilion shades of which +were not to be removed in a day. Closing the door and fastening it +with a padlock, Venn set off towards Blooms-End.</p> + +<p>He had reached the white palings and laid his hand upon the gate +when the door of the house opened, and quickly closed again. A +female form had glided in. At the same time a man, who had +seemingly been standing with the woman in the porch, came forward +from the house till he was face to face with Venn. It was Wildeve +again.</p> + +<p>"Man alive, you've been quick at it," said Diggory sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"And you slow, as you will find," said Wildeve. "And," lowering +his voice, "you may as well go back again now. I've claimed her, +and got her. Good night, reddleman!" Thereupon Wildeve walked +away.</p> + +<p>Venn's heart sank within him, though it had not risen unduly high. +He stood leaning over the palings in an indecisive mood for nearly +a quarter of an hour. Then he went up the garden path, knocked, +and asked for Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>Instead of requesting him to enter she came to the porch. A +discourse was carried on between them in low measured tones for +the space of ten minutes or more. At the end of the time Mrs. +Yeobright went in, and Venn sadly retraced his steps into the +heath. When he had again regained his van he lit the lantern, and +with an apathetic face at once began to pull off his best clothes, +till in the course of a few minutes he reappeared as the confirmed +and irretrievable reddleman that he had seemed before.</p> + + +<p><a name="2-8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII</h3> +<h3>Firmness Is Discovered in a Gentle Heart<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On that evening the interior of Blooms-End, though cosy and +comfortable, had been rather silent. Clym Yeobright was not at +home. Since the Christmas party he had gone on a few days' visit +to a friend about ten miles off.</p> + +<p>The shadowy form seen by Venn to part from Wildeve in the porch, +and quickly withdraw into the house, was Thomasin's. On entering +she threw down a cloak which had been carelessly wrapped round +her, and came forward to the light, where Mrs. Yeobright sat at +her work-table, drawn up within the settle, so that part of it +projected into the chimney-corner.</p> + +<p>"I don't like your going out after dark alone, Tamsin," said her +aunt quietly, without looking up from her work.</p> + +<p>"I have only been just outside the door."</p> + +<p>"Well?" inquired Mrs. Yeobright, struck by a change in the tone of +Thomasin's voice, and observing her. Thomasin's cheek was flushed +to a pitch far beyond that which it had reached before her +troubles, and her eyes glittered.</p> + +<p>"It was <i>he</i> who knocked," she said.</p> + +<p>"I thought as much."</p> + +<p>"He wishes the marriage to be at once."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! What—is he anxious?" Mrs. Yeobright directed a searching +look upon her niece. "Why did not Mr. Wildeve come in?"</p> + +<p>"He did not wish to. You are not friends with him, he says. He +would like the wedding to be the day after tomorrow, quite +privately; at the church of his parish—not at ours."</p> + +<p>"Oh! And what did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I agreed to it," Thomasin answered firmly. "I am a practical +woman now. I don't believe in hearts at all. I would marry him +under any circumstances since—since Clym's letter."</p> + +<p>A letter was lying on Mrs. Yeobright's work-basket, and at +Thomasin's word her aunt reopened it, and silently read for the +tenth time that day:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote class="med"> +<p>What is the meaning of this silly story that people are +circulating about Thomasin and Mr. Wildeve? I should call such a +scandal humiliating if there was the least chance of its being +true. How could such a gross falsehood have arisen? It is said +that one should go abroad to hear news of home, and I appear to +have done it. Of course I contradict the tale everywhere; but it +is very vexing, and I wonder how it could have originated. It is +too ridiculous that such a girl as Thomasin could so mortify us as +to get jilted on the wedding-day. What has she +done?<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Yeobright said sadly, putting down the letter. "If you +think you can marry him, do so. And since Mr. Wildeve wishes it to +be unceremonious, let it be that too. I can do nothing. It is all +in your own hands now. My power over your welfare came to an end +when you left this house to go with him to Anglebury." She +continued, half in bitterness, "I may almost ask, why do you +consult me in the matter at all? If you had gone and married him +without saying a word to me, I could hardly have been +angry—simply because, poor girl, you can't do a better thing."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that and dishearten me."</p> + +<p>"You are right: I will not."</p> + +<p>"I do not plead for him, aunt. Human nature is weak, and I am not +a blind woman to insist that he is perfect. I did think so, but I +don't now. But I know my course, and you know that I know it. I +hope for the best."</p> + +<p>"And so do I, and we will both continue to," said Mrs. Yeobright, +rising and kissing her. "Then the wedding, if it comes off, will +be on the morning of the very day Clym comes home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I decided that it ought to be over before he came. After +that you can look him in the face, and so can I. Our concealments +will matter nothing."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright moved her head in thoughtful assent, and presently +said, "Do you wish me to give you away? I am willing to undertake +that, you know, if you wish, as I was last time. After once +forbidding the banns I think I can do no less."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I will ask you to come," said Thomasin reluctantly, +but with decision. "It would be unpleasant, I am almost sure. +Better let there be only strangers present, and none of my +relations at all. I would rather have it so. I do not wish to do +anything which may touch your credit, and I feel that I should be +uncomfortable if you were there, after what has passed. I am only +your niece, and there is no necessity why you should concern +yourself more about me."</p> + +<p>"Well, he has beaten us," her aunt said. "It really seems as if he +had been playing with you in this way in revenge for my humbling +him as I did by standing up against him at first."</p> + +<p>"O no, aunt," murmured Thomasin.</p> + +<p>They said no more on the subject then. Diggory Venn's knock came +soon after; and Mrs. Yeobright, on returning from her interview +with him in the porch, carelessly observed, "Another lover has +come to ask for you."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that queer young man Venn."</p> + +<p>"Asks to pay his addresses to me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I told him he was too late."</p> + +<p>Thomasin looked silently into the candle-flame. "Poor Diggory!" +she said, and then aroused herself to other things.</p> + +<p>The next day was passed in mere mechanical deeds of preparation, +both the women being anxious to immerse themselves in these to +escape the emotional aspect of the situation. Some wearing apparel +and other articles were collected anew for Thomasin, and remarks +on domestic details were frequently made, so as to obscure any +inner misgivings about her future as Wildeve's wife.</p> + +<p>The appointed morning came. The arrangement with Wildeve was that +he should meet her at the church to guard against any unpleasant +curiosity which might have affected them had they been seen +walking off together in the usual country way.</p> + +<p>Aunt and niece stood together in the bedroom where the bride was +dressing. The sun, where it could catch it, made a mirror of +Thomasin's hair, which she always wore braided. It was braided +according to a calendric system: the more important the day the +more numerous the strands in the braid. On ordinary working-days +she braided it in threes; on ordinary Sundays in fours; at +May-polings, gipsyings, and the like, she braided it in fives. +Years ago she had said that when she married she would braid it in +sevens. She had braided it in sevens today.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking that I will wear my blue silk after all," +she said. "It <i>is</i> my wedding day, even though there may be +something sad about the time. I mean," she added, anxious to +correct any wrong impression, "not sad in itself, but in its +having had great disappointment and trouble before it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright breathed in a way which might have been called a +sigh. "I almost wish Clym had been at home," she said. "Of course +you chose the time because of his absence."</p> + +<p>"Partly. I have felt that I acted unfairly to him in not telling +him all; but, as it was done not to grieve him, I thought I would +carry out the plan to its end, and tell the whole story when the +sky was clear."</p> + +<p>"You are a practical little woman," said Mrs. Yeobright, smiling. +"I wish you and he—no, I don't wish anything. There, it is nine +o'clock," she interrupted, hearing a whizz and a dinging +downstairs.</p> + +<p>"I told Damon I would leave at nine," said Thomasin, hastening out +of the room.</p> + +<p>Her aunt followed. When Thomasin was going up the little walk from +the door to the wicket-gate, Mrs. Yeobright looked reluctantly at +her, and said, "It is a shame to let you go alone."</p> + +<p>"It is necessary," said Thomasin.</p> + +<p>"At any rate," added her aunt with forced cheerfulness, "I shall +call upon you this afternoon, and bring the cake with me. If Clym +has returned by that time he will perhaps come too. I wish to show +Mr. Wildeve that I bear him no ill-will. Let the past be +forgotten. Well, God bless you! There, I don't believe in old +superstitions, but I'll do it." She threw a slipper at the +retreating figure of the girl, who turned, smiled, and went on +again.</p> + +<p>A few steps further, and she looked back. "Did you call me, aunt?" +she tremulously inquired. "Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>Moved by an uncontrollable feeling as she looked upon Mrs. +Yeobright's worn, wet face, she ran back, when her aunt came +forward, and they met again. "O—Tamsie," said the elder, weeping, +"I don't like to let you go."</p> + +<p>"I—I—am—" Thomasin began, giving way likewise. But, quelling her +grief, she said "Good-bye!" again and went on.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Yeobright saw a little figure wending its way between +the scratching furze-bushes, and diminishing far up the valley—a +pale-blue spot in a vast field of neutral brown, solitary and +undefended except by the power of her own hope.</p> + +<p>But the worst feature in the case was one which did not appear in +the landscape; it was the man.</p> + +<p>The hour chosen for the ceremony by Thomasin and Wildeve had been +so timed as to enable her to escape the awkwardness of meeting her +cousin Clym, who was returning the same morning. To own to the +partial truth of what he had heard would be distressing as long as +the humiliating position resulting from the event was unimproved. +It was only after a second and successful journey to the altar +that she could lift up her head and prove the failure of the first +attempt a pure accident.</p> + +<p>She had not been gone from Blooms-End more than half an hour when +Yeobright came by the meads from the other direction and entered +the house.</p> + +<p>"I had an early breakfast," he said to his mother after greeting +her. "Now I could eat a little more."</p> + +<p>They sat down to the repeated meal, and he went on in a low, +anxious voice, apparently imagining that Thomasin had not yet come +downstairs, "What's this I have heard about Thomasin and Mr. +Wildeve?"</p> + +<p>"It is true in many points," said Mrs. Yeobright quietly; "but it +is all right now, I hope." She looked at the clock.</p> + +<p>"True?"</p> + +<p>"Thomasin is gone to him today."</p> + +<p>Clym pushed away his breakfast. "Then there is a scandal of some +sort, and that's what's the matter with Thomasin. Was it this that +made her ill?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Not a scandal: a misfortune. I will tell you all about it, +Clym. You must not be angry, but you must listen, and you'll find +that what we have done has been done for the best."</p> + +<p>She then told him the circumstances. All that he had known of the +affair before he returned from Paris was that there had existed an +attachment between Thomasin and Wildeve, which his mother had at +first discountenanced, but had since, owing to the arguments of +Thomasin, looked upon in a little more favourable light. When she, +therefore, proceeded to explain all he was greatly surprised and +troubled.</p> + +<p>"And she determined that the wedding should be over before you +came back," said Mrs. Yeobright, "that there might be no chance of +her meeting you, and having a very painful time of it. That's why +she has gone to him; they have arranged to be married this +morning."</p> + +<p>"But I can't understand it," said Yeobright, rising. "'Tis so +unlike her. I can see why you did not write to me after her +unfortunate return home. But why didn't you let me know when the +wedding was going to be—the first time?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I felt vexed with her just then. She seemed to me to be +obstinate; and when I found that you were nothing in her mind I +vowed that she should be nothing in yours. I felt that she was +only my niece after all; I told her she might marry, but that I +should take no interest in it, and should not bother you about it +either."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't have been bothering me. Mother, you did wrong."</p> + +<p>"I thought it might disturb you in your business, and that you +might throw up your situation, or injure your prospects in some +way because of it, so I said nothing. Of course, if they had +married at that time in a proper manner, I should have told you at +once."</p> + +<p>"Tamsin actually being married while we are sitting here!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Unless some accident happens again, as it did the first +time. It may, considering he's the same man."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I believe it will. Was it right to let her go? Suppose +Wildeve is really a bad fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Then he won't come, and she'll come home again."</p> + +<p>"You should have looked more into it."</p> + +<p>"It is useless to say that," his mother answered with an impatient +look of sorrow. "You don't know how bad it has been here with us +all these weeks, Clym. You don't know what a mortification +anything of that sort is to a woman. You don't know the sleepless +nights we've had in this house, and the almost bitter words that +have passed between us since that Fifth of November. I hope never +to pass seven such weeks again. Tamsin has not gone outside the +door, and I have been ashamed to look anybody in the face; and now +you blame me for letting her do the only thing that can be done to +set that trouble straight."</p> + +<p>"No," he said slowly. "Upon the whole I don't blame you. But just +consider how sudden it seems to me. Here was I, knowing nothing; +and then I am told all at once that Tamsie is gone to be married. +Well, I suppose there was nothing better to do. Do you know, +mother," he continued after a moment or two, looking suddenly +interested in his own past history, "I once thought of Tamsin as a +sweetheart? Yes, I did. How odd boys are! And when I came home and +saw her this time she seemed so much more affectionate than usual, +that I was quite reminded of those days, particularly on the night +of the party, when she was unwell. We had the party just the +same—was not that rather cruel to her?"</p> + +<p>"It made no difference. I had arranged to give one, and it was not +worth while to make more gloom than necessary. To begin by +shutting ourselves up and telling you of Tamsin's misfortunes +would have been a poor sort of welcome."</p> + +<p>Clym remained thinking. "I almost wish you had not had that +party," he said; "and for other reasons. But I will tell you in a +day or two. We must think of Tamsin now."</p> + +<p>They lapsed into silence. "I'll tell you what," said Yeobright +again, in a tone which showed some slumbering feeling still. "I +don't think it kind to Tamsin to let her be married like this, and +neither of us there to keep up her spirits or care a bit about +her. She hasn't disgraced herself, or done anything to deserve +that. It is bad enough that the wedding should be so hurried and +unceremonious, without our keeping away from it in addition. Upon +my soul, 'tis almost a shame. I'll go."</p> + +<p>"It is over by this time," said his mother with a sigh; "unless +they were late, or he—"</p> + +<p>"Then I shall be soon enough to see them come out. I don't quite +like your keeping me in ignorance, mother, after all. Really, I +half hope he has failed to meet her!"</p> + +<p>"And ruined her character?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense: that wouldn't ruin Thomasin."</p> + +<p>He took up his hat and hastily left the house. Mrs. Yeobright +looked rather unhappy, and sat still, deep in thought. But she was +not long left alone. A few minutes later Clym came back again, and +in his company came Diggory Venn.</p> + +<p>"I find there isn't time for me to get there," said Clym.</p> + +<p>"Is she married?" Mrs. Yeobright inquired, turning to the +reddleman a face in which a strange strife of wishes, for and +against, was apparent.</p> + +<p>Venn bowed. "She is, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"How strange it sounds," murmured Clym.</p> + +<p>"And he didn't disappoint her this time?" said Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"He did not. And there is now no slight on her name. I was +hastening ath'art to tell you at once, as I saw you were not +there."</p> + +<p>"How came you to be there? How did you know it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I have been in that neighbourhood for some time, and I saw them +go in," said the reddleman. "Wildeve came up to the door, punctual +as the clock. I didn't expect it of him." He did not add, as he +might have added, that how he came to be in that neighbourhood was +not by accident; that, since Wildeve's resumption of his right to +Thomasin, Venn, with the thoroughness which was part of his +character, had determined to see the end of the episode.</p> + +<p>"Who was there?" said Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"Nobody hardly. I stood right out of the way, and she did not see +me." The reddleman spoke huskily, and looked into the garden.</p> + +<p>"Who gave her away?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Vye."</p> + +<p>"How very remarkable! Miss Vye! It is to be considered an honour, +I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Who's Miss Vye?" said Clym.</p> + +<p>"Captain Vye's granddaughter, of Mistover Knap."</p> + +<p>"A proud girl from Budmouth," said Mrs. Yeobright. "One not much +to my liking. People say she's a witch, but of course that's +absurd."</p> + +<p>The reddleman kept to himself his acquaintance with that fair +personage, and also that Eustacia was there because he went to +fetch her, in accordance with a promise he had given as soon as he +learnt that the marriage was to take place. He merely said, in +continuation of the story—</p> + +<p>"I was sitting on the churchyard wall when they came up, one from +one way, the other from the other; and Miss Vye was walking +thereabouts, looking at the head-stones. As soon as they had gone +in I went to the door, feeling I should like to see it, as I knew +her so well. I pulled off my boots because they were so noisy, and +went up into the gallery. I saw then that the parson and clerk +were already there."</p> + +<p>"How came Miss Vye to have anything to do with it, if she was only +on a walk that way?"</p> + +<p>"Because there was nobody else. She had gone into the church just +before me, not into the gallery. The parson looked round before +beginning, and as she was the only one near he beckoned to her, +and she went up to the rails. After that, when it came to signing +the book, she pushed up her veil and signed; and Tamsin seemed to +thank her for her kindness." The reddleman told the tale +thoughtfully, for there lingered upon his vision the changing +colour of Wildeve, when Eustacia lifted the thick veil which had +concealed her from recognition and looked calmly into his face. +"And then," said Diggory sadly, "I came away, for her history as +Tamsin Yeobright was over."</p> + +<p>"I offered to go," said Mrs. Yeobright regretfully. "But she said +it was not necessary."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is no matter," said the reddleman. "The thing is done at +last as it was meant to be at first, and God send her happiness. +Now I'll wish you good morning."</p> + +<p>He placed his cap on his head and went out.</p> + +<p>From that instant of leaving Mrs. Yeobright's door, the reddleman +was seen no more in or about Egdon Heath for a space of many +months. He vanished entirely. The nook among the brambles where +his van had been standing was as vacant as ever the next morning, +and scarcely a sign remained to show that he had been there, +excepting a few straws, and a little redness on the turf, which +was washed away by the next storm of rain.</p> + +<p>The report that Diggory had brought of the wedding, correct as far +as it went, was deficient in one significant particular, which had +escaped him through his being at some distance back in the church. +When Thomasin was tremblingly engaged in signing her name Wildeve +had flung towards Eustacia a glance that said plainly, "I have +punished you now." She had replied in a low tone—and he little +thought how truly—"You mistake; it gives me sincerest pleasure to +see her your wife today."</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="3-1"></a> </p> +<h3>BOOK THIRD</h3> +<h2>THE FASCINATION</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>I</h3> +<h3>"My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In Clym Yeobright's face could be dimly seen the typical +countenance of the future. Should there be a classic period to art +hereafter, its Pheidias may produce such faces. The view of life +as a thing to be put up with, replacing that zest for existence +which was so intense in early civilizations, must ultimately enter +so thoroughly into the constitution of the advanced races that its +facial expression will become accepted as a new artistic +departure. People already feel that a man who lives without +disturbing a curve of feature, or setting a mark of mental concern +anywhere upon himself, is too far removed from modern +perceptiveness to be a modern type. Physically beautiful men—the +glory of the race when it was young—are almost an anachronism +now; and we may wonder whether, at some time or other, physically +beautiful women may not be an anachronism likewise.</p> + +<p>The truth seems to be that a long line of disillusive centuries +has permanently displaced the Hellenic idea of life, or whatever +it may be called. What the Greeks only suspected we know well; +what their Aeschylus imagined our nursery children feel. That +old-fashioned revelling in the general situation grows less and +less possible as we uncover the defects of natural laws, and see +the quandary that man is in by their operation.</p> + +<p>The lineaments which will get embodied in ideals based upon this +new recognition will probably be akin to those of Yeobright. The +observer's eye was arrested, not by his face as a picture, but by +his face as a page; not by what it was, but by what it recorded. +His features were attractive in the light of symbols, as sounds +intrinsically common become attractive in language, and as shapes +intrinsically simple become interesting in writing.</p> + +<p>He had been a lad of whom something was expected. Beyond this all +had been chaos. That he would be successful in an original way, or +that he would go to the dogs in an original way, seemed equally +probable. The only absolute certainty about him was that he would +not stand still in the circumstances amid which he was born.</p> + +<p>Hence, when his name was casually mentioned by neighbouring +yeomen, the listener said, "Ah, Clym Yeobright: what is he doing +now?" When the instinctive question about a person is, What is he +doing? it is felt that he will be found to be, like most of us, +doing nothing in particular. There is an indefinite sense that he +must be invading some region of singularity, good or bad. The +devout hope is that he is doing well. The secret faith is that he +is making a mess of it. Half a dozen comfortable marketmen, who +were habitual callers at the Quiet Woman as they passed by in +their carts, were partial to the topic. In fact, though they were +not Egdon men, they could hardly avoid it while they sucked their +long clay tubes and regarded the heath through the window. Clym +had been so inwoven with the heath in his boyhood that hardly +anybody could look upon it without thinking of him. So the subject +recurred: if he were making a fortune and a name, so much the +better for him; if he were making a tragical figure in the world, +so much the better for a narrative.</p> + +<p>The fact was that Yeobright's fame had spread to an awkward extent +before he left home. "It is bad when your fame outruns your +means," said the Spanish Jesuit Gracian. At the age of six he had +asked a Scripture riddle: "Who was the first man known to wear +breeches?" and applause had resounded from the very verge of the +heath. At seven he painted the Battle of Waterloo with tiger-lily +pollen and black-currant juice, in the absence of water-colours. +By the time he reached twelve he had in this manner been heard of +as artist and scholar for at least two miles round. An individual +whose fame spreads three or four thousand yards in the time taken +by the fame of others similarly situated to travel six or eight +hundred, must of necessity have something in him. Possibly Clym's +fame, like Homer's, owed something to the accidents of his +situation; nevertheless famous he was.</p> + +<p>He grew up and was helped out in life. That waggery of fate which +started Clive as a writing clerk, Gay as a linen-draper, Keats as +a surgeon, and a thousand others in a thousand other odd ways, +banished the wild and ascetic heath lad to a trade whose sole +concern was with the especial symbols of self-indulgence and +vainglory.</p> + +<p>The details of this choice of a business for him it is not +necessary to give. At the death of his father a neighbouring +gentleman had kindly undertaken to give the boy a start, and this +assumed the form of sending him to Budmouth. Yeobright did not +wish to go there, but it was the only feasible opening. Thence he +went to London; and thence, shortly after, to Paris, where he had +remained till now.</p> + +<p>Something being expected of him, he had not been at home many days +before a great curiosity as to why he stayed on so long began to +arise in the heath. The natural term of a holiday had passed, yet +he still remained. On the Sunday morning following the week of +Thomasin's marriage a discussion on this subject was in progress +at a hair-cutting before Fairway's house. Here the local barbering +was always done at this hour on this day, to be followed by the +great Sunday wash of the inhabitants at noon, which in its turn +was followed by the great Sunday dressing an hour later. On Egdon +Heath Sunday proper did not begin till dinner-time, and even then +it was a somewhat battered specimen of the day.</p> + +<p>These Sunday-morning hair-cuttings were performed by Fairway; the +victim sitting on a chopping-block in front of the house, without +a coat, and the neighbours gossiping around, idly observing the +locks of hair as they rose upon the wind after the snip, and flew +away out of sight to the four quarters of the heavens. Summer and +winter the scene was the same, unless the wind were more than +usually blusterous, when the stool was shifted a few feet round +the corner. To complain of cold in sitting out of doors, hatless +and coatless, while Fairway told true stories between the cuts of +the scissors, would have been to pronounce yourself no man at +once. To flinch, exclaim, or move a muscle of the face at the +small stabs under the ear received from those instruments, or at +scarifications of the neck by the comb, would have been thought a +gross breach of good manners, considering that Fairway did it all +for nothing. A bleeding about the poll on Sunday afternoons was +amply accounted for by the explanation. "I have had my hair cut, +you know."</p> + +<p>The conversation on Yeobright had been started by a distant view +of the young man rambling leisurely across the heath before them.</p> + +<p>"A man who is doing well elsewhere wouldn't bide here two or three +weeks for nothing," said Fairway. "He's got some project in's +head—depend upon that."</p> + +<p>"Well, 'a can't keep a diment shop here," said Sam.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why he should have had them two heavy boxes home if +he had not been going to bide; and what there is for him to do +here the Lord in heaven knows."</p> + +<p>Before many more surmises could be indulged in Yeobright had come +near; and seeing the hair-cutting group he turned aside to join +them. Marching up, and looking critically at their faces for a +moment, he said, without introduction, "Now, folks, let me guess +what you have been talking about."</p> + +<p>"Ay, sure, if you will," said Sam.</p> + +<p>"About me."</p> + +<p>"Now, it is a thing I shouldn't have dreamed of doing, otherwise," +said Fairway in a tone of integrity; "but since you have named it, +Master Yeobright, I'll own that we was talking about 'ee. We were +wondering what could keep you home here mollyhorning about when +you have made such a world-wide name for yourself in the nick-nack +trade—now, that's the truth o't."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," said Yeobright, with unexpected +earnestness. "I am not sorry to have the opportunity. I've come +home because, all things considered, I can be a trifle less +useless here than anywhere else. But I have only lately found this +out. When I first got away from home I thought this place was not +worth troubling about. I thought our life here was contemptible. +To oil your boots instead of blacking them, to dust your coat with +a switch instead of a brush: was there ever anything more +ridiculous? I said."</p> + +<p>"So 'tis; so 'tis!"</p> + +<p>"No, no—you are wrong; it isn't."</p> + +<p>"Beg your pardon, we thought that was your maning?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as my views changed my course became very depressing. I +found that I was trying to be like people who had hardly anything +in common with myself. I was endeavouring to put off one sort of +life for another sort of life, which was not better than the life +I had known before. It was simply different."</p> + +<p>"True; a sight different," said Fairway.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Paris must be a taking place," said Humphrey. "Grand +shop-winders, trumpets, and drums; and here be we out of doors in +all winds and weathers—"</p> + +<p>"But you mistake me," pleaded Clym. "All this was very depressing. +But not so depressing as something I next perceived—that my +business was the idlest, vainest, most effeminate business that +ever a man could be put to. That decided me: I would give it up +and try to follow some rational occupation among the people I knew +best, and to whom I could be of most use. I have come home; and +this is how I mean to carry out my plan. I shall keep a school as +near to Egdon as possible, so as to be able to walk over here and +have a night-school in my mother's house. But I must study a +little at first, to get properly qualified. Now, neighbours, I +must go."</p> + +<p>And Clym resumed his walk across the heath.</p> + +<p>"He'll never carry it out in the world," said Fairway. "In a few +weeks he'll learn to see things otherwise."</p> + +<p>"'Tis good-hearted of the young man," said another. "But, for my +part, I think he had better mind his business."</p> + + +<p><a name="3-2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II</h3> +<h3>The New Course Causes Disappointment<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Yeobright loved his kind. He had a conviction that the want of +most men was knowledge of a sort which brings wisdom rather than +affluence. He wished to raise the class at the expense of +individuals rather than individuals at the expense of the class. +What was more, he was ready at once to be the first unit +sacrificed.</p> + +<p>In passing from the bucolic to the intellectual life the +intermediate stages are usually two at least, frequently many +more; and one of those stages is almost sure to be worldly +advance. We can hardly imagine bucolic placidity quickening to +intellectual aims without imagining social aims as the +transitional phase. Yeobright's local peculiarity was that in +striving at high thinking he still cleaved to plain living—nay, +wild and meagre living in many respects, and brotherliness with +clowns.</p> + +<p>He was a John the Baptist who took ennoblement rather than +repentance for his text. Mentally he was in a provincial future, +that is, he was in many points abreast with the central town +thinkers of his date. Much of this development he may have owed to +his studious life in Paris, where he had become acquainted with +ethical systems popular at the time.</p> + +<p>In consequence of this relatively advanced position, Yeobright +might have been called unfortunate. The rural world was not ripe +for him. A man should be only partially before his time: to be +completely to the vanward in aspirations is fatal to fame. Had +Philip's warlike son been intellectually so far ahead as to have +attempted civilization without bloodshed, he would have been twice +the godlike hero that he seemed, but nobody would have heard of an +Alexander.</p> + +<p>In the interests of renown the forwardness should lie chiefly in +the capacity to handle things. Successful propagandists have +succeeded because the doctrine they bring into form is that which +their listeners have for some time felt without being able to +shape. A man who advocates aesthetic effort and deprecates social +effort is only likely to be understood by a class to which social +effort has become a stale matter. To argue upon the possibility of +culture before luxury to the bucolic world may be to argue truly, +but it is an attempt to disturb a sequence to which humanity has +been long accustomed. Yeobright preaching to the Egdon eremites +that they might rise to a serene comprehensiveness without going +through the process of enriching themselves, was not unlike arguing +to ancient Chaldeans that in ascending from earth to the pure +empyrean it was not necessary to pass first into the intervening +heaven of ether.</p> + +<p>Was Yeobright's mind well-proportioned? No. A well-proportioned +mind is one which shows no particular bias; one of which we may +safely say that it will never cause its owner to be confined as a +madman, tortured as a heretic, or crucified as a blasphemer. Also, +on the other hand, that it will never cause him to be applauded as +a prophet, revered as a priest, or exalted as a king. Its usual +blessings are happiness and mediocrity. It produces the poetry of +Rogers, the paintings of West, the statecraft of North, the +spiritual guidance of Tomline; enabling its possessors to find +their way to wealth, to wind up well, to step with dignity off the +stage, to die comfortably in their beds, and to get the decent +monument which, in many cases, they deserve. It never would have +allowed Yeobright to do such a ridiculous thing as throw up his +business to benefit his fellow-creatures.</p> + +<p>He walked along towards home without attending to paths. If anyone +knew the heath well it was Clym. He was permeated with its scenes, +with its substance, and with its odours. He might be said to be +its product. His eyes had first opened thereon; with its +appearance all the first images of his memory were +mingled; his estimate of life had been coloured by it: his toys +had been the flint knives and arrow-heads which he found there, +wondering why stones should "grow" to such odd shapes; his +flowers, the purple bells and yellow furze; his animal kingdom, +the snakes and croppers; his society, its human haunters. Take all +the varying hates felt by Eustacia Vye towards the heath, and +translate them into loves, and you have the heart of Clym. He +gazed upon the wide prospect as he walked, and was glad.</p> + +<p>To many persons this Egdon was a place which had slipped out of +its century generations ago, to intrude as an uncouth object into +this. It was an obsolete thing, and few cared to study it. How +could this be otherwise in the days of square fields, plashed +hedges, and meadows watered on a plan so rectangular that on a +fine day they looked like silver gridirons? The farmer, in his +ride, who could smile at artificial grasses, look with solicitude +at the coming corn, and sigh with sadness at the fly-eaten +turnips, bestowed upon the distant upland of heath nothing better +than a frown. But as for Yeobright, when he looked from the +heights on his way he could not help indulging in a barbarous +satisfaction at observing that, in some of the attempts at +reclamation from the waste, tillage, after holding on for a year +or two, had receded again in despair, the ferns and furze-tufts +stubbornly reasserting themselves.</p> + +<p>He descended into the valley, and soon reached his home at +Blooms-End. His mother was snipping dead leaves from the +window-plants. She looked up at him as if she did not understand +the meaning of his long stay with her; her face had worn that look +for several days. He could perceive that the curiosity which had +been shown by the hair-cutting group amounted in his mother to +concern. But she had asked no question with her lips, even when +the arrival of his trunk suggested that he was not going to leave +her soon. Her silence besought an explanation of him more loudly +than words.</p> + +<p>"I am not going back to Paris again, mother," he said. "At least, +in my old capacity. I have given up the business."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright turned in pained surprise. "I thought something was +amiss, because of the boxes. I wonder you did not tell me sooner."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have done it. But I have been in doubt whether you +would be pleased with my plan. I was not quite clear on a few +points myself. I am going to take an entirely new course."</p> + +<p>"I am astonished, Clym. How can you want to do better than you've +been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Very easily. But I shall not do better in the way you mean; I +suppose it will be called doing worse. But I hate that business of +mine, and I want to do some worthy thing before I die. As a +schoolmaster I think to do it—a school-master to the poor and +ignorant, to teach them what nobody else will."</p> + +<p>"After all the trouble that has been taken to give you a start, +and when there is nothing to do but to keep straight on towards +affluence, you say you will be a poor man's schoolmaster. Your +fancies will be your ruin, Clym."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright spoke calmly, but the force of feeling behind the +words was but too apparent to one who knew her as well as her son +did. He did not answer. There was in his face that hopelessness of +being understood which comes when the objector is constitutionally +beyond the reach of a logic that, even under favouring conditions, +is almost too coarse a vehicle for the subtlety of the argument.</p> + +<p>No more was said on the subject till the end of dinner. His mother +then began, as if there had been no interval since the morning. +"It disturbs me, Clym, to find that you have come home with such +thoughts as those. I hadn't the least idea that you meant to go +backward in the world by your own free choice. Of course, I have +always supposed you were going to push straight on, as other men +do—all who deserve the name—when they have been put in a good +way of doing well."</p> + +<p>"I cannot help it," said Clym, in a troubled tone. "Mother, I hate +the flashy business. Talk about men who deserve the name, can any +man deserving the name waste his time in that effeminate way, when +he sees half the world going to ruin for want of somebody to +buckle to and teach them how to breast the misery they are born +to? I get up every morning and see the whole creation groaning and +travailing in pain, as St. Paul says, and yet there am I, +trafficking in glittering splendours with wealthy women and titled +libertines, and pandering to the meanest vanities—I, who have +health and strength enough for anything. I have been troubled in +my mind about it all the year, and the end is that I cannot do it +any more."</p> + +<p>"Why can't you do it as well as others?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, except that there are many things other people care +for which I don't; and that's partly why I think I ought to do +this. For one thing, my body does not require much of me. I cannot +enjoy delicacies; good things are wasted upon me. Well, I ought to +turn that defect to advantage, and by being able to do without +what other people require I can spend what such things cost upon +anybody else."</p> + +<p>Now, Yeobright, having inherited some of these very instincts from +the woman before him, could not fail to awaken a reciprocity in +her through her feelings, if not by arguments, disguise it as she +might for his good. She spoke with less assurance. "And yet you +might have been a wealthy man if you had only persevered. Manager +to that large diamond establishment—what better can a man wish +for? What a post of trust and respect! I suppose you will be like +your father; like him, you are getting weary of doing well."</p> + +<p>"No," said her son, "I am not weary of that, though I am weary of +what you mean by it. Mother, what is doing well?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright was far too thoughtful a woman to be content with +ready definitions, and, like the "What is wisdom?" of Plato's +Socrates, and the "What is truth?" of Pontius Pilate, Yeobright's +burning question received no answer.</p> + +<p>The silence was broken by the clash of the garden gate, a tap at +the door, and its opening. Christian Cantle appeared in the room +in his Sunday clothes.</p> + +<p>It was the custom on Egdon to begin the preface to a story before +absolutely entering the house, so as to be well in for the body of +the narrative by the time visitor and visited stood face to face. +Christian had been saying to them while the door was leaving its +latch, "To think that I, who go from home but once in a while, and +hardly then, should have been there this morning!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis news you have brought us, then, Christian?" said Mrs. +Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"Ay, sure, about a witch, and ye must overlook my time o' day; +for, says I, 'I must go and tell 'em, though they won't have half +done dinner.' I assure ye it made me shake like a driven leaf. Do +ye think any harm will come o't?"</p> + +<p>"Well—what?"</p> + +<p>"This morning at church we was all standing up, and the pa'son +said, 'Let us pray.' 'Well,' thinks I, 'one may as well kneel as +stand'; so down I went; and, more than that, all the rest were as +willing to oblige the man as I. We hadn't been hard at it for more +than a minute when a most terrible screech sounded through church, +as if somebody had just gied up their heart's blood. All the folk +jumped up and then we found that Susan Nunsuch had pricked Miss +Vye with a long stocking-needle, as she had threatened to do as +soon as ever she could get the young lady to church, where she +don't come very often. She've waited for this chance for weeks, so +as to draw her blood and put an end to the bewitching of Susan's +children that has been carried on so long. Sue followed her into +church, sat next to her, and as soon as she could find a chance in +went the stocking-needle into my lady's arm."</p> + +<p>"Good heaven, how horrid!" said Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"Sue pricked her that deep that the maid fainted away; and as I +was afeard there might be some tumult among us, I got behind the +bass-viol and didn't see no more. But they carried her out into +the air, 'tis said; but when they looked round for Sue she was +gone. What a scream that girl gied, poor thing! There were the +pa'son in his surplice holding up his hand and saying, 'Sit down, +my good people, sit down!' But the deuce a bit would they sit +down. O, and what d'ye think I found out, Mrs. Yeobright? The +pa'son wears a suit of clothes under his surplice!—I could see +his black sleeves when he held up his arm."</p> + +<p>"'Tis a cruel thing," said Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said his mother.</p> + +<p>"The nation ought to look into it," said Christian. "Here's +Humphrey coming, I think."</p> + +<p>In came Humphrey. "Well, have ye heard the news? But I see you +have. 'Tis a very strange thing that whenever one of Egdon folk +goes to church some rum job or other is sure to be doing. The last +time one of us was there was when neighbour Fairway went in the +fall; and that was the day you forbad the banns, Mrs. Yeobright."</p> + +<p>"Has this cruelly treated girl been able to walk home?" said Clym.</p> + +<p>"They say she got better, and went home very well. And now I've +told it I must be moving homeward myself."</p> + +<p>"And I," said Humphrey. "Truly now we shall see if there's +anything in what folks say about her."</p> + +<p>When they were gone into the heath again Yeobright said quietly to +his mother, "Do you think I have turned teacher too soon?"</p> + +<p>"It is right that there should be schoolmasters, and missionaries, +and all such men," she replied. "But it is right, too, that I +should try to lift you out of this life into something richer, and +that you should not come back again, and be as if I had not tried +at all."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Later in the day Sam, the turf-cutter, entered. "I've come +a-borrowing, Mrs. Yeobright. I suppose you have heard what's been +happening to the beauty on the hill?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sam: half a dozen have been telling us."</p> + +<p>"Beauty?" said Clym.</p> + +<p>"Yes, tolerably well-favoured," Sam replied. "Lord! all the +country owns that 'tis one of the strangest things in the world +that such a woman should have come to live up there."</p> + +<p>"Dark or fair?"</p> + +<p>"Now, though I've seen her twenty times, that's a thing I cannot +call to mind."</p> + +<p>"Darker than Tamsin," murmured Mrs. Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"A woman who seems to care for nothing at all, as you may say."</p> + +<p>"She is melancholy, then?" inquired Clym.</p> + +<p>"She mopes about by herself, and don't mix in with the people."</p> + +<p>"Is she a young lady inclined for adventures?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't join in with the lads in their games, to get some sort of +excitement in this lonely place?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Mumming, for instance?"</p> + +<p>"No. Her notions be different. I should rather say her thoughts +were far away from here, with lords and ladies she'll never know, +and mansions she'll never see again."</p> + +<p>Observing that Clym appeared singularly interested Mrs. Yeobright +said rather uneasily to Sam, "You see more in her than most of us +do. Miss Vye is to my mind too idle to be charming. I have never +heard that she is of any use to herself or to other people. Good +girls don't get treated as witches even on Egdon."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense—that proves nothing either way," said Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"Well, of course I don't understand such niceties," said Sam, +withdrawing from a possibly unpleasant argument; "and what she is +we must wait for time to tell us. The business that I have really +called about is this, to borrow the longest and strongest rope you +have. The captain's bucket has dropped into the well, and they are +in want of water; and as all the chaps are at home today we think +we can get it out for him. We have three cart-ropes already, but +they won't reach to the bottom."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright told him that he might have whatever ropes he could +find in the outhouse, and Sam went out to search. When he passed +by the door Clym joined him, and accompanied him to the gate.</p> + +<p>"Is this young witch-lady going to stay long at Mistover?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"I should say so."</p> + +<p>"What a cruel shame to ill-use her, She must have suffered +greatly—more in mind than in body."</p> + +<p>"'Twas a graceless trick—such a handsome girl, too. You ought to +see her, Mr. Yeobright, being a young man come from far, and with +a little more to show for your years than most of us."</p> + +<p>"Do you think she would like to teach children?" said Clym.</p> + +<p>Sam shook his head. "Quite a different sort of body from that, I +reckon."</p> + +<p>"O, it was merely something which occurred to me. It would of +course be necessary to see her and talk it over—not an easy +thing, by the way, for my family and hers are not very friendly."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how you mid see her, Mr. Yeobright," said Sam. "We +are going to grapple for the bucket at six o'clock tonight at her +house, and you could lend a hand. There's five or six coming, but +the well is deep, and another might be useful, if you don't mind +appearing in that shape. She's sure to be walking round."</p> + +<p>"I'll think of it," said Yeobright; and they parted.</p> + +<p>He thought of it a good deal; but nothing more was said about +Eustacia inside the house at that time. Whether this romantic +martyr to superstition and the melancholy mummer he had conversed +with under the full moon were one and the same person remained as +yet a problem.</p> + + +<p><a name="3-3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III</h3> +<h3>The First Act in a Timeworn Drama<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The afternoon was fine, and Yeobright walked on the heath for an +hour with his mother. When they reached the lofty ridge which +divided the valley of Blooms-End from the adjoining valley they +stood still and looked round. The Quiet Woman Inn was visible on +the low margin of the heath in one direction, and afar on the +other hand rose Mistover Knap.</p> + +<p>"You mean to call on Thomasin?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But you need not come this time," said his mother.</p> + +<p>"In that case I'll branch off here, mother. I am going to +Mistover."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright turned to him inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"I am going to help them get the bucket out of the captain's +well," he continued. "As it is so very deep I may be useful. And I +should like to see this Miss Vye—not so much for her good looks +as for another reason."</p> + +<p>"Must you go?" his mother asked.</p> + +<p>"I thought to."</p> + +<p>And they parted. "There is no help for it," murmured Clym's mother +gloomily as he withdrew. "They are sure to see each other. I wish +Sam would carry his news to other houses than mine."</p> + +<p>Clym's retreating figure got smaller and smaller as it rose and +fell over the hillocks on his way. "He is tender-hearted," said +Mrs. Yeobright to herself while she watched him; "otherwise it +would matter little. How he's going on!"</p> + +<p>He was, indeed, walking with a will over the furze, as straight as +a line, as if his life depended upon it. His mother drew a long +breath, and, abandoning the visit to Thomasin, turned back. The +evening films began to make nebulous pictures of the valleys, but +the high lands still were raked by the declining rays of the +winter sun, which glanced on Clym as he walked forward, eyed by +every rabbit and fieldfare around, a long shadow advancing in +front of him.</p> + +<p>On drawing near to the furze-covered bank and ditch which +fortified the captain's dwelling he could hear voices within, +signifying that operations had been already begun. At the +side-entrance gate he stopped and looked over.</p> + +<p>Half a dozen able-bodied men were standing in a line from the +well-mouth, holding a rope which passed over the well-roller into +the depths below. Fairway, with a piece of smaller rope round his +body, made fast to one of the standards, to guard against +accidents, was leaning over the opening, his right hand clasping +the vertical rope that descended into the well.</p> + +<p>"Now, silence, folks," said Fairway.</p> + +<p>The talking ceased, and Fairway gave a circular motion to the +rope, as if he were stirring batter. At the end of a minute a dull +splashing reverberated from the bottom of the well; the helical +twist he had imparted to the rope had reached the grapnel below.</p> + +<p>"Haul!" said Fairway; and the men who held the rope began to +gather it over the wheel.</p> + +<p>"I think we've got sommat," said one of the haulers-in.</p> + +<p>"Then pull steady," said Fairway.</p> + +<p>They gathered up more and more, till a regular dripping into the +well could be heard below. It grew smarter with the increasing +height of the bucket, and presently a hundred and fifty feet of +rope had been pulled in.</p> + +<p>Fairway then lit a lantern, tied it to another cord, and began +lowering it into the well beside the first. Clym came forward and +looked down. Strange humid leaves, which knew nothing of the +seasons of the year, and quaint-natured mosses were revealed on +the wellside as the lantern descended; till its rays fell upon a +confused mass of rope and bucket dangling in the dank, dark air.</p> + +<p>"We've only got en by the edge of the hoop—steady, for God's +sake!" said Fairway.</p> + +<p>They pulled with the greatest gentleness, till the wet bucket +appeared about two yards below them, like a dead friend come to +earth again. Three or four hands were stretched out, then jerk +went the rope, whizz went the wheel, the two foremost haulers fell +backward, the beating of a falling body was heard, receding down +the sides of the well, and a thunderous uproar arose at the +bottom. The bucket was gone again.</p> + +<p>"Damn the bucket!" said Fairway.</p> + +<p>"Lower again," said Sam.</p> + +<p>"I'm as stiff as a ram's horn stooping so long," said Fairway, +standing up and stretching himself till his joints creaked.</p> + +<p>"Rest a few minutes, Timothy," said Yeobright. "I'll take your +place."</p> + +<p>The grapnel was again lowered. Its smart impact upon the distant +water reached their ears like a kiss, whereupon Yeobright knelt +down, and leaning over the well began dragging the grapnel round +and round as Fairway had done.</p> + +<p>"Tie a rope round him—it is dangerous!" cried a soft and anxious +voice somewhere above them.</p> + +<p>Everybody turned. The speaker was a woman, gazing down upon the +group from an upper window, whose panes blazed in the ruddy glare +from the west. Her lips were parted and she appeared for the +moment to forget where she was.</p> + +<p>The rope was accordingly tied round his waist, and the work +proceeded. At the next haul the weight was not heavy, and it was +discovered that they had only secured a coil of the rope detached +from the bucket. The tangled mass was thrown into the background. +Humphrey took Yeobright's place, and the grapnel was lowered +again.</p> + +<p>Yeobright retired to the heap of recovered rope in a meditative +mood. Of the identity between the lady's voice and that of the +melancholy mummer he had not a moment's doubt. "How thoughtful of +her!" he said to himself.</p> + +<p>Eustacia, who had reddened when she perceived the effect of her +exclamation upon the group below, was no longer to be seen at the +window, though Yeobright scanned it wistfully. While he stood +there the men at the well succeeded in getting up the bucket +without a mishap. One of them went to inquire for the captain, to +learn what orders he wished to give for mending the well-tackle. +The captain proved to be away from home, and Eustacia appeared at +the door and came out. She had lapsed into an easy and dignified +calm, far removed from the intensity of life in her words of +solicitude for Clym's safety.</p> + +<p>"Will it be possible to draw water here tonight?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"No, miss; the bottom of the bucket is clean knocked out. And as +we can do no more now we'll leave off, and come again tomorrow +morning."</p> + +<p>"No water," she murmured, turning away.</p> + +<p>"I can send you up some from Blooms-End," said Clym, coming +forward and raising his hat as the men retired.</p> + +<p>Yeobright and Eustacia looked at each other for one instant, as if +each had in mind those few moments during which a certain +moonlight scene was common to both. With the glance the calm +fixity of her features sublimed itself to an expression of +refinement and warmth: it was like garish noon rising to the +dignity of sunset in a couple of seconds.</p> + +<p>"Thank you; it will hardly be necessary," she replied.</p> + +<p>"But if you have no water?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is what I call no water," she said, blushing, and +lifting her long-lashed eyelids as if to lift them were a work +requiring consideration. "But my grandfather calls it water +enough. I'll show you what I mean."</p> + +<p>She moved away a few yards, and Clym followed. When she reached +the corner of the enclosure, where the steps were formed for +mounting the boundary bank, she sprang up with a lightness which +seemed strange after her listless movement towards the well. It +incidentally showed that her apparent languor did not arise from +lack of force.</p> + +<p>Clym ascended behind her, and noticed a circular burnt patch at +the top of the bank. "Ashes?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Eustacia. "We had a little bonfire here last Fifth of +November, and those are the marks of it."</p> + +<p>On that spot had stood the fire she had kindled to attract +Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"That's the only kind of water we have," she continued, tossing a +stone into the pool, which lay on the outside of the bank like the +white of an eye without its pupil. The stone fell with a flounce, +but no Wildeve appeared on the other side, as on a previous +occasion there. "My grandfather says he lived for more than twenty +years at sea on water twice as bad as that," she went on, "and +considers it quite good enough for us here on an emergency."</p> + +<p>"Well, as a matter of fact there are no impurities in the water of +these pools at this time of the year. It has only just rained into +them."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I am managing to exist in a wilderness, but I +cannot drink from a pond," she said.</p> + +<p>Clym looked towards the well, which was now deserted, the men +having gone home. "It is a long way to send for spring-water," he +said, after a silence. "But since you don't like this in the pond, +I'll try to get you some myself." He went back to the well. "Yes, +I think I could do it by tying on this pail."</p> + +<p>"But, since I would not trouble the men to get it, I cannot in +conscience let you."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind the trouble at all."</p> + +<p>He made fast the pail to the long coil of rope, put it over the +wheel, and allowed it to descend by letting the rope slip through +his hands. Before it had gone far, however, he checked it.</p> + +<p>"I must make fast the end first, or we may lose the whole," he +said to Eustacia, who had drawn near. "Could you hold this a +moment, while I do it—or shall I call your servant?"</p> + +<p>"I can hold it," said Eustacia; and he placed the rope in her +hands, going then to search for the end.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may let it slip down?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"I would advise you not to let it go far," said Clym. "It will get +much heavier, you will find."</p> + +<p>However, Eustacia had begun to pay out. While he was tying she +cried, "I cannot stop it!"</p> + +<p>Clym ran to her side, and found he could only check the rope by +twisting the loose part round the upright post, when it stopped +with a jerk. "Has it hurt you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Very much?"</p> + +<p>"No; I think not." She opened her hands. One of them was bleeding; +the rope had dragged off the skin. Eustacia wrapped it in her +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"You should have let go," said Yeobright. "Why didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"You said I was to hold on… This is the second time +I have been wounded today."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; I have heard of it. I blush for my native Egdon. Was it +a serious injury you received in church, Miss Vye?"</p> + +<p>There was such an abundance of sympathy in Clym's tone that +Eustacia slowly drew up her sleeve and disclosed her round white +arm. A bright red spot appeared on its smooth surface, like a ruby +on Parian marble.</p> + + +<p>"There it is," she said, putting her finger against the spot.</p> + +<p>"It was dastardly of the woman," said Clym. "Will not Captain Vye +get her punished?"</p> + +<p>"He is gone from home on that very business. I did not know that I +had such a magic reputation."</p> + +<p>"And you fainted?" said Clym, looking at the scarlet little +puncture as if he would like to kiss it and make it well.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it frightened me. I had not been to church for a long time. +And now I shall not go again for ever so long—perhaps never. I +cannot face their eyes after this. Don't you think it dreadfully +humiliating? I wished I was dead for hours after, but I don't mind +now."</p> + +<p>"I have come to clean away these cobwebs," said Yeobright. "Would +you like to help me—by high-class teaching? We might benefit them +much."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite feel anxious to. I have not much love for my +fellow-creatures. Sometimes I quite hate them."</p> + +<p>"Still I think that if you were to hear my scheme you might take +an interest in it. There is no use in hating people—if you hate +anything, you should hate what produced them."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean Nature? I hate her already. But I shall be glad to +hear your scheme at any time."</p> + +<p>The situation had now worked itself out, and the next natural +thing was for them to part. Clym knew this well enough, and +Eustacia made a move of conclusion; yet he looked at her as if he +had one word more to say. Perhaps if he had not lived in Paris it +would never have been uttered.</p> + +<p>"We have met before," he said, regarding her with rather more +interest than was necessary.</p> + +<p>"I do not own it," said Eustacia, with a repressed, still look.</p> + +<p>"But I may think what I like."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You are lonely here."</p> + +<p>"I cannot endure the heath, except in its purple season. The heath +is a cruel taskmaster to me."</p> + +<p>"Can you say so?" he asked. "To my mind it is most exhilarating, +and strengthening, and soothing. I would rather live on these +hills than anywhere else in the world."</p> + +<p>"It is well enough for artists; but I never would learn to draw."</p> + +<p>"And there is a very curious Druidical stone just out there." He +threw a pebble in the direction signified. "Do you often go to see +it?"</p> + +<p>"I was not even aware there existed any such curious Druidical +stone. I am aware that there are boulevards in Paris."</p> + +<p>Yeobright looked thoughtfully on the ground. "That means much," he +said.</p> + +<p>"It does indeed," said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"I remember when I had the same longing for town bustle. Five +years of a great city would be a perfect cure for that."</p> + +<p>"Heaven send me such a cure! Now, Mr. Yeobright, I will go indoors +and plaster my wounded hand."</p> + +<p>They separated, and Eustacia vanished in the increasing shade. She +seemed full of many things. Her past was a blank, her life had +begun. The effect upon Clym of this meeting he did not fully +discover till some time after. During his walk home his most +intelligible sensation was that his scheme had somehow become +glorified. A beautiful woman had been intertwined with it.</p> + +<p>On reaching the house he went up to the room which was to be made +his study, and occupied himself during the evening in unpacking +his books from the boxes and arranging them on shelves. From +another box he drew a lamp and a can of oil. He trimmed the lamp, +arranged his table, and said, "Now, I am ready to begin."</p> + +<p>He rose early the next morning, read two hours before breakfast by +the light of his lamp—read all the morning, all the afternoon. +Just when the sun was going down his eyes felt weary, and he leant +back in his chair.</p> + +<p>His room overlooked the front of the premises and the valley of +the heath beyond. The lowest beams of the winter sun threw the +shadow of the house over the palings, across the grass margin of +the heath, and far up the vale, where the chimney outlines and +those of the surrounding treetops stretched forth in long dark +prongs. Having been seated at work all day, he decided to take a +turn upon the hills before it got dark; and, going out forthwith, +he struck across the heath towards Mistover.</p> + +<p>It was an hour and a half later when he again appeared at the +garden gate. The shutters of the house were closed, and Christian +Cantle, who had been wheeling manure about the garden all day, had +gone home. On entering he found that his mother, after waiting a +long time for him, had finished her meal.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been, Clym?" she immediately said. "Why didn't you +tell me that you were going away at this time?"</p> + +<p>"I have been on the heath."</p> + +<p>"You'll meet Eustacia Vye if you go up there."</p> + +<p>Clym paused a minute. "Yes, I met her this evening," he said, as +though it were spoken under the sheer necessity of preserving +honesty.</p> + +<p>"I wondered if you had."</p> + +<p>"It was no appointment."</p> + +<p>"No; such meetings never are."</p> + +<p>"But you are not angry, mother?"</p> + +<p>"I can hardly say that I am not. Angry? No. But when I consider +the usual nature of the drag which causes men of promise to +disappoint the world I feel uneasy."</p> + +<p>"You deserve credit for the feeling, mother. But I can assure you +that you need not be disturbed by it on my account."</p> + +<p>"When I think of you and your new crotchets," said Mrs. Yeobright, +with some emphasis, "I naturally don't feel so comfortable as I +did a twelvemonth ago. It is incredible to me that a man +accustomed to the attractive women of Paris and elsewhere should +be so easily worked upon by a girl in a heath. You could just as +well have walked another way."</p> + +<p>"I had been studying all day."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes," she added more hopefully, "I have been thinking that +you might get on as a schoolmaster, and rise that way, since you +really are determined to hate the course you were pursuing."</p> + +<p>Yeobright was unwilling to disturb this idea, though his scheme +was far enough removed from one wherein the education of youth +should be made a mere channel of social ascent. He had no desires +of that sort. He had reached the stage in a young man's life when +the grimness of the general human situation first becomes clear; +and the realization of this causes ambition to halt awhile. In +France it is not uncustomary to commit suicide at this stage; in +England we do much better, or much worse, as the case may be.</p> + +<p>The love between the young man and his mother was strangely +invisible now. Of love it may be said, the less earthly the less +demonstrative. In its absolutely indestructible form it reaches a +profundity in which all exhibition of itself is painful. It was so +with these. Had conversations between them been overheard, people +would have said, "How cold they are to each other!"</p> + +<p>His theory and his wishes about devoting his future to teaching +had made an impression on Mrs. Yeobright. Indeed, how could it be +otherwise when he was a part of her—when their discourses were as +if carried on between the right and the left hands of the same +body? He had despaired of reaching her by argument; and it was +almost as a discovery to him that he could reach her by a +magnetism which was as superior to words as words are to yells.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough he began to feel now that it would not be so hard +to persuade her who was his best friend that comparative poverty +was essentially the higher course for him, as to reconcile to his +feelings the act of persuading her. From every provident point of +view his mother was so undoubtedly right, that he was not without +a sickness of heart in finding he could shake her.</p> + +<p>She had a singular insight into life, considering that she had +never mixed with it. There are instances of persons who, without +clear ideas of the things they criticize, have yet had clear ideas +of the relations of those things. Blacklock, a poet blind from his +birth, could describe visual objects with accuracy; Professor +Sanderson, who was also blind, gave excellent lectures on colour, +and taught others the theory of ideas which they had and he had +not. In the social sphere these gifted ones are mostly women; they +can watch a world which they never saw, and estimate forces of +which they have only heard. We call it intuition.</p> + +<p>What was the great world to Mrs. Yeobright? A multitude whose +tendencies could be perceived, though not its essences. +Communities were seen by her as from a distance; she saw them as +we see the throngs which cover the canvases of Sallaert, Van +Alsloot, and others of that school—vast masses of beings, +jostling, zigzagging, and processioning in definite directions, +but whose features are indistinguishable by the very +comprehensiveness of the view.</p> + +<p>One could see that, as far as it had gone, her life was very +complete on its reflective side. The philosophy of her nature, and +its limitation by circumstances, was almost written in her +movements. They had a majestic foundation, though they were far +from being majestic; and they had a groundwork of assurance, but +they were not assured. As her once elastic walk had become +deadened by time, so had her natural pride of life been hindered +in its blooming by her necessities.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>The next slight touch in the shaping of Clym's destiny occurred a +few days after. A barrow was opened on the heath, and Yeobright +attended the operation, remaining away from his study during +several hours. In the afternoon Christian returned from a journey +in the same direction, and Mrs. Yeobright questioned him.</p> + +<p>"They have dug a hole, and they have found things like flowerpots +upside down, Mis'ess Yeobright; and inside these be real charnel +bones. They have carried 'em off to men's houses; but I shouldn't +like to sleep where they will bide. Dead folks have been known to +come and claim their own. Mr. Yeobright had got one pot of the +bones, and was going to bring 'em home—real skellington +bones—but 'twas ordered otherwise. You'll be relieved to hear +that he gave away his pot and all, on second thoughts; and a +blessed thing for ye, Mis'ess Yeobright, considering the wind o' +nights."</p> + +<p>"Gave it away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. To Miss Vye. She has a cannibal taste for such churchyard +furniture seemingly."</p> + +<p>"Miss Vye was there too?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, 'a b'lieve she was."</p> + +<p>When Clym came home, which was shortly after, his mother said, in +a curious tone, "The urn you had meant for me you gave away."</p> + +<p>Yeobright made no reply; the current of her feeling was too +pronounced to admit it.</p> + +<p>The early weeks of the year passed on. Yeobright certainly studied +at home, but he also walked much abroad, and the direction of his +walk was always towards some point of a line between Mistover and +Rainbarrow.</p> + +<p>The month of March arrived, and the heath showed its first signs +of awakening from winter trance. The awakening was almost feline +in its stealthiness. The pool outside the bank by Eustacia's +dwelling, which seemed as dead and desolate as ever to an observer +who moved and made noises in his observation, would gradually +disclose a state of great animation when silently watched awhile. +A timid animal world had come to life for the season. Little +tadpoles and efts began to bubble up through the water, and to +race along beneath it; toads made noises like very young ducks, +and advanced to the margin in twos and threes; overhead, +bumble-bees flew hither and thither in the thickening light, their +drone coming and going like the sound of a gong.</p> + +<p>On an evening such as this Yeobright descended into the Blooms-End +valley from beside that very pool, where he had been standing with +another person quite silently and quite long enough to hear all +this puny stir of resurrection in nature; yet he had not heard it. +His walk was rapid as he came down, and he went with a springy +tread. Before entering upon his mother's premises he stopped and +breathed. The light which shone forth on him from the window +revealed that his face was flushed and his eye bright. What it did +not show was something which lingered upon his lips like a seal +set there. The abiding presence of this impress was so real that +he hardly dared to enter the house, for it seemed as if his mother +might say, "What red spot is that glowing upon your mouth so +vividly?"</p> + +<p>But he entered soon after. The tea was ready, and he sat down +opposite his mother. She did not speak many words; and as for him, +something had been just done and some words had been just said on +the hill which prevented him from beginning a desultory chat. His +mother's taciturnity was not without ominousness, but he appeared +not to care. He knew why she said so little, but he could not +remove the cause of her bearing towards him. These half-silent +sittings were far from uncommon with them now. At last Yeobright +made a beginning of what was intended to strike at the whole root +of the matter.</p> + +<p>"Five days have we sat like this at meals with scarcely a word. +What's the use of it, mother?"</p> + +<p>"None," said she, in a heart-swollen tone. "But there is only too +good a reason."</p> + +<p>"Not when you know all. I have been wanting to speak about this, +and I am glad the subject is begun. The reason, of course, is +Eustacia Vye. Well, I confess I have seen her lately, and have +seen her a good many times."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; and I know what that amounts to. It troubles me, Clym. +You are wasting your life here; and it is solely on account of +her. If it had not been for that woman you would never have +entertained this teaching scheme at all."</p> + +<p>Clym looked hard at his mother. "You know that is not it," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I know you had decided to attempt it before you saw her; +but that would have ended in intentions. It was very well to talk +of, but ridiculous to put in practice. I fully expected that in +the course of a month or two you would have seen the folly of such +self-sacrifice, and would have been by this time back again to +Paris in some business or other. I can understand objections to +the diamond trade—I really was thinking that it might be +inadequate to the life of a man like you even though it might have +made you a millionaire. But now I see how mistaken you are about +this girl I doubt if you could be correct about other things."</p> + +<p>"How am I mistaken in her?"</p> + +<p>"She is lazy and dissatisfied. But that is not all of it. +Supposing her to be as good a woman as any you can find, which she +certainly is not, why do you wish to connect yourself with anybody +at present?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there are practical reasons," Clym began, and then almost +broke off under an overpowering sense of the weight of argument +which could be brought against his statement. "If I take a school +an educated woman would be invaluable as a help to me."</p> + +<p>"What! you really mean to marry her?"</p> + +<p>"It would be premature to state that plainly. But consider what +obvious advantages there would be in doing it. She—"</p> + +<p>"Don't suppose she has any money. She hasn't a farthing."</p> + +<p>"She is excellently educated, and would make a good matron in a +boarding-school. I candidly own that I have modified my views a +little, in deference to you; and it should satisfy you. I no +longer adhere to my intention of giving with my own mouth +rudimentary education to the lowest class. I can do better. I can +establish a good private school for farmers' sons, and without +stopping the school I can manage to pass examinations. By this +means, and by the assistance of a wife like her—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clym!"</p> + +<p>"I shall ultimately, I hope, be at the head of one of the best +schools in the county."</p> + +<p>Yeobright had enunciated the word "her" with a fervour which, in +conversation with a mother, was absurdly indiscreet. Hardly a +maternal heart within the four seas could, in such circumstances, +have helped being irritated at that ill-timed betrayal of feeling +for a new woman.</p> + +<p>"You are blinded, Clym," she said warmly. "It was a bad day for +you when you first set eyes on her. And your scheme is merely a +castle in the air built on purpose to justify this folly which has +seized you, and to salve your conscience on the irrational +situation you are in."</p> + +<p>"Mother, that's not true," he firmly answered.</p> + +<p>"Can you maintain that I sit and tell untruths, when all I wish to +do is to save you from sorrow? For shame, Clym! But it is all +through that woman—a hussy!"</p> + +<p>Clym reddened like fire and rose. He placed his hand upon his +mother's shoulder and said, in a tone which hung strangely between +entreaty and command, "I won't hear it. I may be led to answer you +in a way which we shall both regret."</p> + +<p>His mother parted her lips to begin some other vehement truth, but +on looking at him she saw that in his face which led her to leave +the words unsaid. Yeobright walked once or twice across the room, +and then suddenly went out of the house. It was eleven o'clock +when he came in, though he had not been further than the precincts +of the garden. His mother was gone to bed. A light was left +burning on the table, and supper was spread. Without stopping for +any food he secured the doors and went upstairs.</p> + + +<p><a name="3-4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<h3>An Hour of Bliss and Many Hours of Sadness<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The next day was gloomy enough at Blooms-End. Yeobright remained +in his study, sitting over the open books; but the work of those +hours was miserably scant. Determined that there should be nothing +in his conduct towards his mother resembling sullenness, he had +occasionally spoken to her on passing matters, and would take no +notice of the brevity of her replies. With the same resolve to +keep up a show of conversation he said, about seven o'clock in the +evening, "There's an eclipse of the moon tonight. I am going out +to see it." And, putting on his overcoat, he left her.</p> + +<p>The low moon was not as yet visible from the front of the house, +and Yeobright climbed out of the valley until he stood in the full +flood of her light. But even now he walked on, and his steps were +in the direction of Rainbarrow.</p> + +<p>In half an hour he stood at the top. The sky was clear from verge +to verge, and the moon flung her rays over the whole heath, but +without sensibly lighting it, except where paths and water-courses +had laid bare the white flints and glistening quartz sand, which +made streaks upon the general shade. After standing awhile he +stooped and felt the heather. It was dry, and he flung himself +down upon the barrow, his face towards the moon, which depicted a +small image of herself in each of his eyes.</p> + +<p>He had often come up here without stating his purpose to his +mother; but this was the first time that he had been ostensibly +frank as to his purpose while really concealing it. It was a moral +situation which, three months earlier, he could hardly have +credited of himself. In returning to labour in this sequestered +spot he had anticipated an escape from the chafing of social +necessities; yet behold they were here also. More than ever he +longed to be in some world where personal ambition was not the +only recognized form of progress—such, perhaps, as might have +been the case at some time or other in the silvery globe then +shining upon him. His eye travelled over the length and breadth of +that distant country—over the Bay of Rainbows, the sombre Sea of +Crises, the Ocean of Storms, the Lake of Dreams, the vast Walled +Plains, and the wondrous Ring Mountains—till he almost felt +himself to be voyaging bodily through its wild scenes, standing on +its hollow hills, traversing its deserts, descending its vales and +old sea bottoms, or mounting to the edges of its craters.</p> + +<p>While he watched the far-removed landscape a tawny stain grew into +being on the lower verge: the eclipse had begun. This marked a +preconcerted moment: for the remote celestial phenomenon had been +pressed into sublunary service as a lover's signal. Yeobright's +mind flew back to earth at the sight; he arose, shook himself and +listened. Minute after minute passed by, perhaps ten minutes +passed, and the shadow on the moon perceptibly widened. He heard a +rustling on his left hand, a cloaked figure with an upturned face +appeared at the base of the Barrow, and Clym descended. In a +moment the figure was in his arms, and his lips upon hers.</p> + +<p>"My Eustacia!"</p> + +<p>"Clym, dearest!"</p> + +<p>Such a situation had less than three months brought forth.</p> + +<p>They remained long without a single utterance, for no language +could reach the level of their condition: words were as the rusty +implements of a by-gone barbarous epoch, and only to be +occasionally tolerated.</p> + +<p>"I began to wonder why you did not come," said Yeobright, when she +had withdrawn a little from his embrace.</p> + +<p>"You said ten minutes after the first mark of shade on the edge of +the moon, and that's what it is now."</p> + +<p>"Well, let us only think that here we are."</p> + +<p>Then, holding each other's hand, they were again silent, and the +shadow on the moon's disc grew a little larger.</p> + +<p>"Has it seemed long since you last saw me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It has seemed sad."</p> + +<p>"And not long? That's because you occupy yourself, and so blind +yourself to my absence. To me, who can do nothing, it has been +like living under stagnant water."</p> + +<p>"I would rather bear tediousness, dear, than have time made short +by such means as have shortened mine."</p> + +<p>"In what way is that? You have been thinking you wished you did +not love me."</p> + +<p>"How can a man wish that, and yet love on? No, Eustacia."</p> + +<p>"Men can, women cannot."</p> + +<p>"Well, whatever I may have thought, one thing is certain—I do +love you—past all compass and description. I love you to +oppressiveness—I, who have never before felt more than a pleasant +passing fancy for any woman I have ever seen. Let me look right +into your moonlit face and dwell on every line and curve in it! +Only a few hair-breadths make the difference between this face and +faces I have seen many times before I knew you; yet what a +difference—the difference between everything and nothing at all. +One touch on that mouth again! there, and there, and there. Your +eyes seem heavy, Eustacia."</p> + +<p>"No, it is my general way of looking. I think it arises from my +feeling sometimes an agonizing pity for myself that I ever was +born."</p> + +<p>"You don't feel it now?"</p> + +<p>"No. Yet I know that we shall not love like this always. Nothing +can ensure the continuance of love. It will evaporate like a +spirit, and so I feel full of fears."</p> + +<p>"You need not."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you don't know. You have seen more than I, and have been into +cities and among people that I have only heard of, and have lived +more years than I; but yet I am older at this than you. I loved +another man once, and now I love you."</p> + +<p>"In God's mercy don't talk so, Eustacia!"</p> + +<p>"But I do not think I shall be the one who wearies first. It will, +I fear, end in this way: your mother will find out that you meet +me, and she will influence you against me!"</p> + +<p>"That can never be. She knows of these meetings already."</p> + +<p>"And she speaks against me?"</p> + +<p>"I will not say."</p> + +<p>"There, go away! Obey her. I shall ruin you. It is foolish of you +to meet me like this. Kiss me, and go away for ever. For ever—do +you hear?—for ever!"</p> + +<p>"Not I."</p> + +<p>"It is your only chance. Many a man's love has been a curse to +him."</p> + +<p>"You are desperate, full of fancies, and wilful; and you +misunderstand. I have an additional reason for seeing you tonight +besides love of you. For though, unlike you, I feel our affection +may be eternal, I feel with you in this, that our present mode of +existence cannot last."</p> + +<p>"Oh! 'tis your mother. Yes, that's it! I knew it."</p> + +<p>"Never mind what it is. Believe this, I cannot let myself lose +you. I must have you always with me. This very evening I do not +like to let you go. There is only one cure for this anxiety, +dearest—you must be my wife."</p> + +<p>She started: then endeavoured to say calmly, "Cynics say that +cures the anxiety by curing the love."</p> + +<p>"But you must answer me. Shall I claim you some day—I don't mean +at once?"</p> + +<p>"I must think," Eustacia murmured. "At present speak of Paris to +me. Is there any place like it on earth?"</p> + +<p>"It is very beautiful. But will you be mine?"</p> + +<p>"I will be nobody else's in the world—does that satisfy you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for the present."</p> + +<p>"Now tell me of the Tuileries, and the Louvre," she continued +evasively.</p> + +<p>"I hate talking of Paris! Well, I remember one sunny room in the +Louvre which would make a fitting place for you to live in—the +Galerie d'Apollon. Its windows are mainly east; and in the early +morning, when the sun is bright, the whole apartment is in a +perfect blaze of splendour. The rays bristle and dart from the +encrustations of gilding to the magnificent inlaid coffers, from +the coffers to the gold and silver plate, from the plate to the +jewels and precious stones, from these to the enamels, till there +is a perfect network of light which quite dazzles the eye. But +now, about our marriage—"</p> + +<p>"And Versailles—the King's Gallery is some such gorgeous room, is +it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But what's the use of talking of gorgeous rooms? By the way, +the Little Trianon would suit us beautifully to live in, and you +might walk in the gardens in the moonlight and think you were in +some English shrubbery; it is laid out in English fashion."</p> + +<p>"I should hate to think that!"</p> + +<p>"Then you could keep to the lawn in front of the Grand Palace. All +about there you would doubtless feel in a world of historical +romance."</p> + +<p>He went on, since it was all new to her, and described +Fontainebleau, St. Cloud, the Bois, and many other familiar haunts +of the Parisians; till she said—</p> + +<p>"When used you to go to these places?"</p> + +<p>"On Sundays."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes. I dislike English Sundays. How I should chime in with +their manners over there! Dear Clym, you'll go back again?"</p> + +<p>Clym shook his head, and looked at the eclipse.</p> + +<p>"If you'll go back again I'll—be something," she said tenderly, +putting her head near his breast. "If you'll agree I'll give my +promise, without making you wait a minute longer."</p> + +<p>"How extraordinary that you and my mother should be of one mind +about this!" said Yeobright. "I have vowed not to go back, +Eustacia. It is not the place I dislike; it is the occupation."</p> + +<p>"But you can go in some other capacity."</p> + +<p>"No. Besides, it would interfere with my scheme. Don't press that, +Eustacia. Will you marry me?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell."</p> + +<p>"Now—never mind Paris; it is no better than other spots. Promise, +sweet!"</p> + +<p>"You will never adhere to your education plan, I am quite sure; +and then it will be all right for me; and so I promise to be yours +for ever and ever."</p> + +<p>Clym brought her face towards his by a gentle pressure of the +hand, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but you don't know what you have got in me," she said. +"Sometimes I think there is not that in Eustacia Vye which will +make a good homespun wife. Well, let it go—see how our time is +slipping, slipping, slipping!" She pointed towards the +half eclipsed moon.</p> + +<p>"You are too mournful."</p> + +<p>"No. Only I dread to think of anything beyond the present. What +is, we know. We are together now, and it is unknown how long we +shall be so; the unknown always fills my mind with terrible +possibilities, even when I may reasonably expect it to be +cheerful… Clym, the eclipsed moonlight shines upon your face +with a strange foreign colour, and shows its shape as if it were +cut out in gold. That means that you should be doing better things +than this."</p> + +<p>"You are ambitious, Eustacia—no, not exactly ambitious, +luxurious. I ought to be of the same vein, to make you happy, I +suppose. And yet, far from that, I could live and die in a +hermitage here, with proper work to do."</p> + +<p>There was that in his tone which implied distrust of his position +as a solicitous lover, a doubt if he were acting fairly towards +one whose tastes touched his own only at rare and infrequent +points. She saw his meaning, and whispered, in a low, full accent +of eager assurance "Don't mistake me, Clym: though I should like +Paris, I love you for yourself alone. To be your wife and live in +Paris would be heaven to me; but I would rather live with you in a +hermitage here than not be yours at all. It is gain to me either +way, and very great gain. There's my too candid confession."</p> + +<p>"Spoken like a woman. And now I must soon leave you. I'll walk +with you towards your house."</p> + +<p>"But must you go home yet?" she asked. "Yes, the sand has nearly +slipped away, I see, and the eclipse is creeping on more and more. +Don't go yet! Stop till the hour has run itself out; then I will +not press you any more. You will go home and sleep well; I keep +sighing in my sleep! Do you ever dream of me?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot recollect a clear dream of you."</p> + +<p>"I see your face in every scene of my dreams, and hear your voice +in every sound. I wish I did not. It is too much what I feel. They +say such love never lasts. But it must! And yet once, I remember, +I saw an officer of the Hussars ride down the street at Budmouth, +and though he was a total stranger and never spoke to me, I loved +him till I thought I should really die of love—but I didn't die, +and at last I left off caring for him. How terrible it would be if +a time should come when I could not love you, my Clym!"</p> + +<p>"Please don't say such reckless things. When we see such a time at +hand we will say, 'I have outlived my faith and purpose,' and die. +There, the hour has expired: now let us walk on."</p> + +<p>Hand in hand they went along the path towards Mistover. When they +were near the house he said, "It is too late for me to see your +grandfather tonight. Do you think he will object to it?"</p> + +<p>"I will speak to him. I am so accustomed to be my own mistress +that it did not occur to me that we should have to ask him."</p> + +<p>Then they lingeringly separated, and Clym descended towards +Blooms-End.</p> + +<p>And as he walked further and further from the charmed atmosphere +of his Olympian girl his face grew sad with a new sort of sadness. +A perception of the dilemma in which his love had placed him came +back in full force. In spite of Eustacia's apparent willingness to +wait through the period of an unpromising engagement, till he +should be established in his new pursuit, he could not but +perceive at moments that she loved him rather as a visitant from a +gay world to which she rightly belonged than as a man with a +purpose opposed to that recent past of his which so interested +her. Often at their meetings a word or a sigh escaped her. +It meant that, though she made no conditions as to his return +to the French capital, this was what she secretly longed for in +the event of marriage; and it robbed him of many an otherwise +pleasant hour. Along with that came the widening breach between +himself and his mother. Whenever any little occurrence had brought +into more prominence than usual the disappointment that he was +causing her it had sent him on lone and moody walks; or he was +kept awake a great part of the night by the turmoil of spirit +which such a recognition created. If Mrs. Yeobright could only +have been led to see what a sound and worthy purpose this purpose +of his was and how little it was being affected by his devotions +to Eustacia, how differently would she regard him!</p> + +<p>Thus as his sight grew accustomed to the first blinding halo +kindled about him by love and beauty, Yeobright began to perceive +what a strait he was in. Sometimes he wished that he had never +known Eustacia, immediately to retract the wish as brutal. Three +antagonistic growths had to be kept alive: his mother's trust in +him, his plan for becoming a teacher, and Eustacia's happiness. +His fervid nature could not afford to relinquish one of these, +though two of the three were as many as he could hope to preserve. +Though his love was as chaste as that of Petrarch for his Laura, +it had made fetters of what previously was only a difficulty. A +position which was not too simple when he stood wholehearted had +become indescribably complicated by the addition of Eustacia. Just +when his mother was beginning to tolerate one scheme he had +introduced another still bitterer than the first, and the +combination was more than she could bear.</p> + + +<p><a name="3-5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V</h3> +<h3>Sharp Words Are Spoken, and a Crisis Ensues<br /> </h3> + + +<p>When Yeobright was not with Eustacia he was sitting slavishly over +his books; when he was not reading he was meeting her. These +meetings were carried on with the greatest secrecy.</p> + +<p>One afternoon his mother came home from a morning visit to +Thomasin. He could see from a disturbance in the lines of her face +that something had happened.</p> + +<p>"I have been told an incomprehensible thing," she said mournfully. +"The captain has let out at the Woman that you and Eustacia Vye +are engaged to be married."</p> + +<p>"We are," said Yeobright. "But it may not be yet for a very long +time."</p> + +<p>"I should hardly think it <i>would</i> be yet for a very long +time! You will take her to Paris, I suppose?" She spoke with weary +hopelessness.</p> + +<p>"I am not going back to Paris."</p> + +<p>"What will you do with a wife, then?"</p> + +<p>"Keep a school in Budmouth, as I have told you."</p> + +<p>"That's incredible! The place is overrun with schoolmasters. You +have no special qualifications. What possible chance is there for +such as you?"</p> + +<p>"There is no chance of getting rich. But with my system of +education, which is as new as it is true, I shall do a great deal +of good to my fellow-creatures."</p> + +<p>"Dreams, dreams! If there had been any system left to be invented +they would have found it out at the universities long before this +time."</p> + +<p>"Never, mother. They cannot find it out, because their teachers +don't come in contact with the class which demands such a +system—that is, those who have had no preliminary training. My +plan is one for instilling high knowledge into empty minds without +first cramming them with what has to be uncrammed again before +true study begins."</p> + +<p>"I might have believed you if you had kept yourself free from +entanglements; but this woman—if she had been a good girl it +would have been bad enough; but being—"</p> + +<p>"She is a good girl."</p> + +<p>"So you think. A Corfu bandmaster's daughter! What has her life +been? Her surname even is not her true one."</p> + +<p>"She is Captain Vye's granddaughter, and her father merely took +her mother's name. And she is a lady by instinct."</p> + +<p>"They call him 'captain,' but anybody is captain."</p> + +<p>"He was in the Royal Navy!"</p> + +<p>"No doubt he has been to sea in some tub or other. Why doesn't he +look after her? No lady would rove about the heath at all hours of +the day and night as she does. But that's not all of it. There was +something queer between her and Thomasin's husband at one time—I +am as sure of it as that I stand here."</p> + +<p>"Eustacia has told me. He did pay her a little attention a year +ago; but there's no harm in that. I like her all the better."</p> + +<p>"Clym," said his mother with firmness, "I have no proofs against +her, unfortunately. But if she makes you a good wife, there has +never been a bad one."</p> + +<p>"Believe me, you are almost exasperating," said Yeobright +vehemently. "And this very day I had intended to arrange a meeting +between you. But you give me no peace; you try to thwart my wishes +in everything."</p> + +<p>"I hate the thought of any son of mine marrying badly! I wish I +had never lived to see this; it is too much for me—it is more +than I dreamt!" She turned to the window. Her breath was coming +quickly, and her lips were pale, parted, and trembling.</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Clym, "whatever you do, you will always be dear to +me—that you know. But one thing I have a right to say, which is, +that at my age I am old enough to know what is best for me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright remained for some time silent and shaken, as if she +could say no more. Then she replied, "Best? Is it best for you to +injure your prospects for such a voluptuous, idle woman as that? +Don't you see that by the very fact of your choosing her you prove +that you do not know what is best for you? You give up your whole +thought—you set your whole soul—to please a woman."</p> + +<p>"I do. And that woman is you."</p> + +<p>"How can you treat me so flippantly!" said his mother, turning +again to him with a tearful look. "You are unnatural, Clym, and I +did not expect it."</p> + +<p>"Very likely," said he cheerlessly. "You did not know the measure +you were going to mete me, and therefore did not know the measure +that would be returned to you again."</p> + +<p>"You answer me; you think only of her. You stick to her in all +things."</p> + +<p>"That proves her to be worthy. I have never yet supported what is +bad. And I do not care only for her. I care for you and for +myself, and for anything that is good. When a woman once dislikes +another she is merciless!"</p> + +<p>"O Clym! please don't go setting down as my fault what is your +obstinate wrong-headedness. If you wished to connect yourself with +an unworthy person why did you come home here to do it? Why didn't +you do it in Paris?—it is more the fashion there. You have come +only to distress me, a lonely woman, and shorten my days! I wish +that you would bestow your presence where you bestow your love!"</p> + +<p>Clym said huskily, "You are my mother. I will say no more—beyond +this, that I beg your pardon for having thought this my home. I +will no longer inflict myself upon you; I'll go." And he went out +with tears in his eyes.</p> + +<p>It was a sunny afternoon at the beginning of summer, and the moist +hollows of the heath had passed from their brown to their green +stage. Yeobright walked to the edge of the basin which extended +down from Mistover and Rainbarrow. By this time he was calm, +and he looked over the landscape. In the minor valleys, +between the hillocks which diversified the contour of the +vale, the fresh young ferns were luxuriantly growing up, +ultimately to reach a height of five or six feet. He descended a +little way, flung himself down in a spot where a path emerged from +one of the small hollows, and waited. Hither it was that he had +promised Eustacia to bring his mother this afternoon, that they +might meet and be friends. His attempt had utterly failed.</p> + +<p>He was in a nest of vivid green. The ferny vegetation round him, +though so abundant, was quite uniform: it was a grove of +machine-made foliage, a world of green triangles with saw-edges, +and not a single flower. The air was warm with a vaporous warmth, +and the stillness was unbroken. Lizards, grasshoppers, and ants +were the only living things to be beheld. The scene seemed to +belong to the ancient world of the carboniferous period, when the +forms of plants were few, and of the fern kind; when there was +neither bud nor blossom, nothing but a monotonous extent of +leafage, amid which no bird sang.</p> + +<p>When he had reclined for some considerable time, gloomily +pondering, he discerned above the ferns a drawn bonnet of white +silk approaching from the left, and Yeobright knew directly that +it covered the head of her he loved. His heart awoke from its +apathy to a warm excitement, and, jumping to his feet, he said +aloud, "I knew she was sure to come."</p> + +<p>She vanished in a hollow for a few moments, and then her whole +form unfolded itself from the brake.</p> + +<p>"Only you here?" she exclaimed, with a disappointed air, whose +hollowness was proved by her rising redness and her half-guilty +low laugh. "Where is Mrs. Yeobright?"</p> + +<p>"She has not come," he replied in a subdued tone.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had known that you would be here alone," she said +seriously, "and that we were going to have such an idle, pleasant +time as this. Pleasure not known beforehand is half wasted; to +anticipate it is to double it. I have not thought once today of +having you all to myself this afternoon, and the actual moment of +a thing is so soon gone."</p> + +<p>"It is indeed."</p> + +<p>"Poor Clym!" she continued, looking tenderly into his face. "You +are sad. Something has happened at your home. Never mind what +is—let us only look at what seems."</p> + +<p>"But, darling, what shall we do?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Still go on as we do now—just live on from meeting to meeting, +never minding about another day. You, I know, are always thinking +of that—I can see you are. But you must not—will you, dear +Clym?"</p> + +<p>"You are just like all women. They are ever content to build their +lives on any incidental position that offers itself; whilst men +would fain make a globe to suit them. Listen to this, Eustacia. +There is a subject I have determined to put off no longer. Your +sentiment on the wisdom of <i>Carpe diem</i> does not impress me +today. Our present mode of life must shortly be brought to an +end."</p> + +<p>"It is your mother!"</p> + +<p>"It is. I love you none the less in telling you; it is only right +you should know."</p> + +<p>"I have feared my bliss," she said, with the merest motion of her +lips. "It has been too intense and consuming."</p> + +<p>"There is hope yet. There are forty years of work in me yet, and +why should you despair? I am only at an awkward turning. I wish +people wouldn't be so ready to think that there is no progress +without uniformity."</p> + +<p>"Ah—your mind runs off to the philosophical side of it. Well, +these sad and hopeless obstacles are welcome in one sense, for +they enable us to look with indifference upon the cruel satires +that Fate loves to indulge in. I have heard of people, who, upon +coming suddenly into happiness, have died from anxiety lest they +should not live to enjoy it. I felt myself in that whimsical state +of uneasiness lately; but I shall be spared it now. Let us walk +on."</p> + +<p>Clym took the hand which was already bared for him—it was a +favourite way with them to walk bare hand in bare hand—and led +her through the ferns. They formed a very comely picture of love +at full flush, as they walked along the valley that late +afternoon, the sun sloping down on their right, and throwing their +thin spectral shadows, tall as poplar trees, far out across the +furze and fern. Eustacia went with her head thrown back +fancifully, a certain glad and voluptuous air of triumph pervading +her eyes at having won by her own unaided self a man who was her +perfect complement in attainment, appearance, and age. On the +young man's part, the paleness of face which he had brought with +him from Paris, and the incipient marks of time and thought, were +less perceptible than when he returned, the healthful and +energetic sturdiness which was his by nature having partially +recovered its original proportions. They wandered onward till they +reached the nether margin of the heath, where it became marshy and +merged in moorland.</p> + +<p>"I must part from you here, Clym," said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>They stood still and prepared to bid each other farewell. +Everything before them was on a perfect level. The sun, resting on +the horizon line, streamed across the ground from between +copper-coloured and lilac clouds, stretched out in flats beneath a +sky of pale soft green. All dark objects on the earth that lay +towards the sun were overspread by a purple haze, against which +groups of wailing gnats shone out, rising upwards and dancing +about like sparks of fire.</p> + +<p>"O! this leaving you is too hard to bear!" exclaimed Eustacia in a +sudden whisper of anguish. "Your mother will influence you too +much; I shall not be judged fairly, it will get afloat that I am +not a good girl, and the witch story will be added to make me +blacker!"</p> + +<p>"They cannot. Nobody dares to speak disrespectfully of you or of +me."</p> + +<p>"Oh how I wish I was sure of never losing you—that you could not +be able to desert me anyhow!"</p> + +<p>Clym stood silent a moment. His feelings were high, the moment was +passionate, and he cut the knot.</p> + +<p>"You shall be sure of me, darling," he said, folding her in his +arms. "We will be married at once."</p> + +<p>"O Clym!"</p> + +<p>"Do you agree to it?"</p> + +<p>"If—if we can."</p> + +<p>"We certainly can, both being of full age. And I have not followed +my occupation all these years without having accumulated money; +and if you will agree to live in a tiny cottage somewhere on the +heath, until I take a house in Budmouth for the school, we can do +it at a very little expense."</p> + +<p>"How long shall we have to live in the tiny cottage, Clym?"</p> + +<p>"About six months. At the end of that time I shall have finished +my reading—yes, we will do it, and this heartaching will be +over. We shall, of course, live in absolute seclusion, and our +married life will only begin to outward view when we take the +house in Budmouth, where I have already addressed a letter on the +matter. Would your grandfather allow you?"</p> + +<p>"I think he would—on the understanding that it should not last +longer than six months."</p> + +<p>"I will guarantee that, if no misfortune happens."</p> + +<p>"If no misfortune happens," she repeated slowly.</p> + +<p>"Which is not likely. Dearest, fix the exact day."</p> + +<p>And then they consulted on the question, and the day was chosen. +It was to be a fortnight from that time.</p> + +<p>This was the end of their talk, and Eustacia left him. Clym +watched her as she retired towards the sun. The luminous rays +wrapped her up with her increasing distance, and the rustle of her +dress over the sprouting sedge and grass died away. As he watched, +the dead flat of the scenery overpowered him, though he was fully +alive to the beauty of that untarnished early summer green which +was worn for the nonce by the poorest blade. There was something +in its oppressive horizontality which too much reminded him of the +arena of life; it gave him a sense of bare equality with, and no +superiority to, a single living thing under the sun.</p> + +<p>Eustacia was now no longer the goddess but the woman to him, a +being to fight for, support, help, be maligned for. Now that he +had reached a cooler moment he would have preferred a less hasty +marriage; but the card was laid, and he determined to abide by the +game. Whether Eustacia was to add one other to the list of those +who love too hotly to love long and well, the forthcoming event +was certainly a ready way of proving.</p> + + +<p><a name="3-6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI</h3> +<h3>Yeobright Goes, and the Breach Is Complete<br /> </h3> + + +<p>All that evening smart sounds denoting an active packing up came +from Yeobright's room to the ears of his mother downstairs.</p> + +<p>Next morning he departed from the house and again proceeded across +the heath. A long day's march was before him, his object being to +secure a dwelling to which he might take Eustacia when she became +his wife. Such a house, small, secluded, and with its windows +boarded up, he had casually observed a month earlier, about two +miles beyond the village of East Egdon, and six miles distant +altogether; and thither he directed his steps today.</p> + +<p>The weather was far different from that of the evening before. The +yellow and vapoury sunset which had wrapped up Eustacia from his +parting gaze had presaged change. It was one of those not +infrequent days of an English June which are as wet and boisterous +as November. The cold clouds hastened on in a body, as if painted +on a moving slide. Vapours from other continents arrived upon the +wind, which curled and parted round him as he walked on.</p> + +<p>At length Clym reached the margin of a fir and beech plantation +that had been enclosed from heath land in the year of his birth. +Here the trees, laden heavily with their new and humid leaves, +were now suffering more damage than during the highest winds of +winter, when the boughs are especially disencumbered to do battle +with the storm. The wet young beeches were undergoing amputations, +bruises, cripplings, and harsh lacerations, from which the wasting +sap would bleed for many a day to come, and which would leave +scars visible till the day of their burning. Each stem was +wrenched at the root, where it moved like a bone in its socket, +and at every onset of the gale convulsive sounds came from the +branches, as if pain were felt. In a neighbouring brake a finch +was trying to sing; but the wind blew under his feathers till they +stood on end, twisted round his little tail, and made him give up +his song.</p> + +<p>Yet a few yards to Yeobright's left, on the open heath, how +ineffectively gnashed the storm! Those gusts which tore the trees +merely waved the furze and heather in a light caress. Egdon was +made for such times as these.</p> + +<p>Yeobright reached the empty house about mid-day. It was almost +as lonely as that of Eustacia's grandfather, but the fact that it +stood near a heath was disguised by a belt of firs which almost +enclosed the premises. He journeyed on about a mile further to the +village in which the owner lived, and, returning with him to the +house, arrangements were completed, and the man undertook that one +room at least should be ready for occupation the next day. Clym's +intention was to live there alone until Eustacia should join him +on their wedding day.</p> + +<p>Then he turned to pursue his way homeward through the drizzle that +had so greatly transformed the scene. The ferns, among which he +had lain in comfort yesterday, were dripping moisture from every +frond, wetting his legs through as he brushed past; and the fur of +the rabbits leaping before him was clotted into dark locks by the +same watery surrounding.</p> + +<p>He reached home damp and weary enough after his ten-mile walk. It +had hardly been a propitious beginning, but he had chosen his +course, and would show no swerving. The evening and the following +morning were spent in concluding arrangements for his departure. +To stay at home a minute longer than necessary after having once +come to his determination would be, he felt, only to give new pain +to his mother by some word, look, or deed.</p> + +<p>He had hired a conveyance and sent off his goods by two o'clock +that day. The next step was to get some furniture, which, after +serving for temporary use in the cottage, would be available for +the house at Budmouth when increased by goods of a better +description. A mart extensive enough for the purpose existed at +Anglebury, some miles beyond the spot chosen for his residence, +and there he resolved to pass the coming night.</p> + +<p>It now only remained to wish his mother good-bye. She was sitting +by the window as usual when he came downstairs.</p> + +<p>"Mother, I am going to leave you," he said, holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were, by your packing," replied Mrs. Yeobright in a +voice from which every particle of emotion was painfully excluded.</p> + +<p>"And you will part friends with me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Clym."</p> + +<p>"I am going to be married on the twenty-fifth."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to be married."</p> + +<p>"And then—and then you must come and see us. You will understand +me better after that, and our situation will not be so wretched as +it is now."</p> + +<p>"I do not think it likely I shall come to see you."</p> + +<p>"Then it will not be my fault or Eustacia's, mother. Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>He kissed her cheek, and departed in great misery, which was +several hours in lessening itself to a controllable level. The +position had been such that nothing more could be said without, in +the first place, breaking down a barrier; and that was not to be +done.</p> + +<p>No sooner had Yeobright gone from his mother's house than her face +changed its rigid aspect for one of blank despair. After a while +she wept, and her tears brought some relief. During the rest of +the day she did nothing but walk up and down the garden path in a +state bordering on stupefaction. Night came, and with it but +little rest. The next day, with an instinct to do something which +should reduce prostration to mournfulness, she went to her son's +room, and with her own hands arranged it in order, for an +imaginary time when he should return again. She gave some +attention to her flowers, but it was perfunctorily bestowed, for +they no longer charmed her.</p> + +<p>It was a great relief when, early in the afternoon, Thomasin paid +her an unexpected visit. This was not the first meeting between +the relatives since Thomasin's marriage; and past blunders having +been in a rough way rectified, they could always greet each other +with pleasure and ease.</p> + +<p>The oblique band of sunlight which followed her through the door +became the young wife well. It illuminated her as her presence +illuminated the heath. In her movements, in her gaze, she reminded +the beholder of the feathered creatures who lived around her home. +All similes and allegories concerning her began and ended with +birds. There was as much variety in her motions as in their +flight. When she was musing she was a kestrel, which hangs in the +air by an invisible motion of its wings. When she was in a high +wind her light body was blown against trees and banks like a +heron's. When she was frightened she darted noiselessly like a +kingfisher. When she was serene she skimmed like a swallow, and +that is how she was moving now.</p> + +<p>"You are looking very blithe, upon my word, Tamsie," said Mrs. +Yeobright, with a sad smile. "How is Damon?"</p> + +<p>"He is very well."</p> + +<p>"Is he kind to you, Thomasin?" And Mrs. Yeobright observed her +narrowly.</p> + +<p>"Pretty fairly."</p> + +<p>"Is that honestly said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, aunt. I would tell you if he were unkind." She added, +blushing, and with hesitation, "He—I don't know if I ought to +complain to you about this, but I am not quite sure what to do. I +want some money, you know, aunt—some to buy little things for +myself—and he doesn't give me any. I don't like to ask him; and +yet, perhaps, he doesn't give it me because he doesn't know. Ought +I to mention it to him, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you ought. Have you never said a word on the matter?"</p> + +<p>"You see, I had some of my own," said Thomasin evasively, "and I +have not wanted any of his until lately. I did just say something +about it last week; but he seems—not to remember."</p> + +<p>"He must be made to remember. You are aware that I have a little +box full of spade-guineas, which your uncle put into my hands to +divide between yourself and Clym whenever I chose. Perhaps the +time has come when it should be done. They can be turned into +sovereigns at any moment."</p> + +<p>"I think I should like to have my share—that is, if you don't +mind."</p> + +<p>"You shall, if necessary. But it is only proper that you should +first tell your husband distinctly that you are without any, and +see what he will do."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I will… Aunt, I have heard about Clym. I know +you are in trouble about him, and that's why I have come."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright turned away, and her features worked in her attempt +to conceal her feelings. Then she ceased to make any attempt, and +said, weeping, "O Thomasin, do you think he hates me? How can he +bear to grieve me so, when I have lived only for him through all +these years?"</p> + +<p>"Hate you—no," said Thomasin soothingly. "It is only that he +loves her too well. Look at it quietly—do. It is not so very bad +of him. Do you know, I thought it not the worst match he could +have made. Miss Vye's family is a good one on her mother's side; +and her father was a romantic wanderer—a sort of Greek Ulysses."</p> + +<p>"It is no use, Thomasin; it is no use. Your intention is good; but +I will not trouble you to argue. I have gone through the whole +that can be said on either side times, and many times. Clym and I +have not parted in anger; we have parted in a worse way. It is not +a passionate quarrel that would have broken my heart; it is the +steady opposition and persistence in going wrong that he has +shown. O Thomasin, he was so good as a little boy—so tender and +kind!"</p> + +<p>"He was, I know."</p> + +<p>"I did not think one whom I called mine would grow up to treat me +like this. He spoke to me as if I opposed him to injure him. As +though I could wish him ill!"</p> + +<p>"There are worse women in the world than Eustacia Vye."</p> + +<p>"There are too many better; that's the agony of it. It was she, +Thomasin, and she only, who led your husband to act as he did: I +would swear it!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Thomasin eagerly. "It was before he knew me that he +thought of her, and it was nothing but a mere flirtation."</p> + +<p>"Very well; we will let it be so. There is little use in +unravelling that now. Sons must be blind if they will. Why is it +that a woman can see from a distance what a man cannot see close? +Clym must do as he will—he is nothing more to me. And this is +maternity—to give one's best years and best love to ensure the +fate of being despised!"</p> + +<p>"You are too unyielding. Think how many mothers there are whose +sons have brought them to public shame by real crimes before you +feel so deeply a case like this."</p> + +<p>"Thomasin, don't lecture me—I can't have it. It is the excess +above what we expect that makes the force of the blow, and that +may not be greater in their case than in mine: they may have +foreseen the worst… I am wrongly made, Thomasin," she added, +with a mournful smile. "Some widows can guard against the wounds +their children give them by turning their hearts to another +husband and beginning life again. But I always was a poor, weak, +one-idea'd creature—I had not the compass of heart nor the +enterprise for that. Just as forlorn and stupefied as I was when +my husband's spirit flew away I have sat ever since—never +attempting to mend matters at all. I was comparatively a young +woman then, and I might have had another family by this time, and +have been comforted by them for the failure of this one son."</p> + +<p>"It is more noble in you that you did not."</p> + +<p>"The more noble, the less wise."</p> + +<p>"Forget it, and be soothed, dear aunt. And I shall not leave you +alone for long. I shall come and see you every day."</p> + +<p>And for one week Thomasin literally fulfilled her word. She +endeavoured to make light of the wedding; and brought news of the +preparations, and that she was invited to be present. The next +week she was rather unwell, and did not appear. Nothing had as yet +been done about the guineas, for Thomasin feared to address her +husband again on the subject, and Mrs. Yeobright had insisted upon +this.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>One day just before this time Wildeve was standing at the door of +the Quiet Woman. In addition to the upward path through the heath +to Rainbarrow and Mistover, there was a road which branched from +the highway a short distance below the inn, and ascended to +Mistover by a circuitous and easy incline. This was the only route +on that side for vehicles to the captain's retreat. A light cart +from the nearest town descended the road, and the lad who was +driving pulled up in front of the inn for something to drink.</p> + +<p>"You come from Mistover?" said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"Yes. They are taking in good things up there. Going to be a +wedding." And the driver buried his face in his mug.</p> + +<p>Wildeve had not received an inkling of the fact before, and a +sudden expression of pain overspread his face. He turned for a +moment into the passage to hide it. Then he came back again.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean Miss Vye?" he said. "How is it—that she can be +married so soon?"</p> + +<p>"By the will of God and a ready young man, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean Mr. Yeobright?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He has been creeping about with her all the spring."</p> + +<p>"I suppose—she was immensely taken with him?"</p> + +<p>"She is crazy about him, so their general servant of all work +tells me. And that lad Charley that looks after the horse is all +in a daze about it. The stun-poll has got fondlike of her."</p> + +<p>"Is she lively—is she glad? Going to be married so soon—well!"</p> + +<p>"It isn't so very soon."</p> + +<p>"No; not so very soon."</p> + +<p>Wildeve went indoors to the empty room, a curious heartache within +him. He rested his elbow upon the mantelpiece and his face upon +his hand. When Thomasin entered the room he did not tell her of +what he had heard. The old longing for Eustacia had reappeared in +his soul; and it was mainly because he had discovered that it was +another man's intention to possess her.</p> + +<p>To be yearning for the difficult, to be weary of that offered; to +care for the remote, to dislike the near; it was Wildeve's nature +always. This is the true mark of the man of sentiment. Though +Wildeve's fevered feeling had not been elaborated to real poetical +compass, it was of the standard sort. He might have been called +the Rousseau of Egdon.</p> + + +<p><a name="3-7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII</h3> +<h3>The Morning and the Evening of a Day<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The wedding morning came. Nobody would have imagined from +appearances that Blooms-End had any interest in Mistover that day. +A solemn stillness prevailed around the house of Clym's mother, +and there was no more animation indoors. Mrs. Yeobright, who had +declined to attend the ceremony, sat by the breakfast table in the +old room which communicated immediately with the porch, her eyes +listlessly directed towards the open door. It was the room in +which, six months earlier, the merry Christmas party had met, to +which Eustacia came secretly and as a stranger. The only living +thing that entered now was a sparrow; and seeing no movements to +cause alarm, he hopped boldly round the room, endeavoured to go +out by the window, and fluttered among the pot-flowers. This +roused the lonely sitter, who got up, released the bird, and went +to the door. She was expecting Thomasin, who had written the night +before to state that the time had come when she would wish to have +the money, and that she would if possible call this day.</p> + +<p>Yet Thomasin occupied Mrs. Yeobright's thoughts but slightly as +she looked up the valley of the heath, alive with butterflies, and +with grasshoppers whose husky noises on every side formed a whispered +chorus. A domestic drama, for which the preparations were now being +made a mile or two off, was but little less vividly present to her +eyes than if enacted before her. She tried to dismiss the vision, and +walked about the garden plot; but her eyes ever and anon sought out +the direction of the parish church to which Mistover belonged, and +her excited fancy clove the hills which divided the building from her +eyes. The morning wore away. Eleven o'clock struck: could it be that +the wedding was then in progress? It must be so. She went on imagining +the scene at the church, which he had by this time approached with his +bride. She pictured the little group of children by the gate as the +pony-carriage drove up in which, as Thomasin had learnt, they were +going to perform the short journey. Then she saw them enter and +proceed to the chancel and kneel; and the service seemed to go on.</p> + +<p>She covered her face with her hands. "O, it is a mistake!" she +groaned. "And he will rue it some day, and think of me!"</p> + +<p>While she remained thus, overcome by her forebodings, the old +clock indoors whizzed forth twelve strokes. Soon after, faint +sounds floated to her ear from afar over the hills. The breeze +came from that quarter, and it had brought with it the notes of +distant bells, gaily starting off in a peal: one, two, three, +four, five. The ringers at East Egdon were announcing the nuptials +of Eustacia and her son.</p> + +<p>"Then it is over," she murmured. "Well, well! and life too will be +over soon. And why should I go on scalding my face like this? Cry +about one thing in life, cry about all; one thread runs through +the whole piece. And yet we say, 'a time to laugh!'"</p> + +<p>Towards evening Wildeve came. Since Thomasin's marriage Mrs. +Yeobright had shown towards him that grim friendliness which at +last arises in all such cases of undesired affinity. The vision of +what ought to have been is thrown aside in sheer weariness, and +browbeaten human endeavour listlessly makes the best of the fact +that is. Wildeve, to do him justice, had behaved very courteously +to his wife's aunt; and it was with no surprise that she saw him +enter now.</p> + +<p>"Thomasin has not been able to come, as she promised to do," he +replied to her inquiry, which had been anxious, for she knew that +her niece was badly in want of money. "The captain +came down last night and personally pressed her to +join them today. So, not to be unpleasant, she determined to go. +They fetched her in the pony-chaise, and are going to bring her +back."</p> + +<p>"Then it is done," said Mrs. Yeobright. "Have they gone to their +new home?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I have had no news from Mistover since Thomasin +left to go."</p> + +<p>"You did not go with her?" said she, as if there might be good +reasons why.</p> + +<p>"I could not," said Wildeve, reddening slightly. "We could not +both leave the house; it was rather a busy morning, on account of +Anglebury Great Market. I believe you have something to give to +Thomasin? If you like, I will take it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright hesitated, and wondered if Wildeve knew what the +something was. "Did she tell you of this?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Not particularly. She casually dropped a remark about having +arranged to fetch some article or other."</p> + +<p>"It is hardly necessary to send it. She can have it whenever she +chooses to come."</p> + +<p>"That won't be yet. In the present state of her health she must +not go on walking so much as she has done." He added, with a faint +twang of sarcasm, "What wonderful thing is it that I cannot be +trusted to take?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing worth troubling you with."</p> + +<p>"One would think you doubted my honesty," he said, with a laugh, +though his colour rose in a quick resentfulness frequent with him.</p> + +<p>"You need think no such thing," said she drily. "It is simply that +I, in common with the rest of the world, feel that there are +certain things which had better be done by certain people than by +others."</p> + +<p>"As you like, as you like," said Wildeve laconically. "It is not +worth arguing about. Well, I think I must turn homeward again, as +the inn must not be left long in charge of the lad and the maid +only."</p> + +<p>He went his way, his farewell being scarcely so courteous as his +greeting. But Mrs. Yeobright knew him thoroughly by this time, and +took little notice of his manner, good or bad.</p> + +<p>When Wildeve was gone Mrs. Yeobright stood and considered what +would be the best course to adopt with regard to the guineas, +which she had not liked to entrust to Wildeve. It was hardly +credible that Thomasin had told him to ask for them, when the +necessity for them had arisen from the difficulty of obtaining +money at his hands. At the same time Thomasin really wanted them, +and might be unable to come to Blooms-End for another week at +least. To take or send the money to her at the inn would be +impolite, since Wildeve would pretty surely be present, or would +discover the transaction; and if, as her aunt suspected, he +treated her less kindly than she deserved to be treated, he might +then get the whole sum out of her gentle hands. But on this +particular evening Thomasin was at Mistover, and anything might be +conveyed to her there without the knowledge of her husband. Upon +the whole the opportunity was worth taking advantage of.</p> + +<p>Her son, too, was there, and was now married. There could be no +more proper moment to render him his share of the money than the +present. And the chance that would be afforded her, by sending him +this gift, of showing how far she was from bearing him ill-will, +cheered the sad mother's heart.</p> + +<p>She went upstairs and took from a locked drawer a little box, out +of which she poured a hoard of broad unworn guineas that had lain +there many a year. There were a hundred in all, and she divided +them into two heaps, fifty in each. Tying up these in small canvas +bags, she went down to the garden and called to Christian Cantle, +who was loitering about in hope of a supper which was not really +owed him. Mrs. Yeobright gave him the moneybags, charged him to go +to Mistover, and on no account to deliver them into any one's +hands save her son's and Thomasin's. On further thought she deemed +it advisable to tell Christian precisely what the two bags +contained, that he might be fully impressed with their importance. +Christian pocketed the money-bags, promised the greatest +carefulness, and set out on his way.</p> + +<p>"You need not hurry," said Mrs. Yeobright. "It will be better not +to get there till after dusk, and then nobody will notice you. +Come back here to supper, if it is not too late."</p> + +<p>It was nearly nine o'clock when he began to ascend the vale +towards Mistover; but the long days of summer being at their +climax, the first obscurity of evening had only just begun to tan +the landscape. At this point of his journey Christian heard +voices, and found that they proceeded from a company of men and +women who were traversing a hollow ahead of him, the tops only of +their heads being visible.</p> + +<p>He paused and thought of the money he carried. It was almost too +early even for Christian seriously to fear robbery; nevertheless +he took a precaution which ever since his boyhood he had adopted +whenever he carried more than two or three shillings upon his +person—a precaution somewhat like that of the owner of the Pitt +Diamond when filled with similar misgivings. He took off his +boots, untied the guineas, and emptied the contents of one little +bag into the right boot, and of the other into the left, spreading +them as flatly as possible over the bottom of each, which was +really a spacious coffer by no means limited to the size of the +foot. Pulling them on again and lacing them to the very top, he +proceeded on his way, more easy in his head than under his soles.</p> + +<p>His path converged towards that of the noisy company, and on +coming nearer he found to his relief that they were several Egdon +people whom he knew very well, while with them walked Fairway, of +Blooms-End.</p> + +<p>"What! Christian going too?" said Fairway as soon as he recognized +the newcomer. "You've got no young woman nor wife to your name to +gie a gown-piece to, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean?" said Christian.</p> + +<p>"Why, the raffle. The one we go to every year. Going to the raffle +as well as ourselves?"</p> + +<p>"Never knew a word o't. Is it like cudgel-playing or other +sportful forms of bloodshed? I don't want to go, thank you, Mister +Fairway, and no offence."</p> + +<p>"Christian don't know the fun o't, and 'twould be a fine sight for +him," said a buxom woman. "There's no danger at all, Christian. +Every man puts in a shilling apiece, and one wins a gown-piece for +his wife or sweetheart if he's got one."</p> + +<p>"Well, as that's not my fortune there's no meaning in it to me. +But I should like to see the fun, if there's nothing of the black +art in it, and if a man may look on without cost or getting into +any dangerous wrangle?"</p> + +<p>"There will be no uproar at all," said Timothy. "Sure, Christian, +if you'd like to come we'll see there's no harm done."</p> + +<p>"And no ba'dy gaieties, I suppose? You see, neighbours, if so, it +would be setting father a bad example, as he is so light moral'd. +But a gown-piece for a shilling, and no black art—'tis worth +looking in to see, and it wouldn't hinder me half an hour. Yes, +I'll come, if you'll step a little way towards Mistover with me +afterwards, supposing night should have closed in, and nobody else +is going that way?"</p> + +<p>One or two promised; and Christian, diverging from his direct +path, turned round to the right with his companions towards the +Quiet Woman.</p> + +<p>When they entered the large common room of the inn they found +assembled there about ten men from among the neighbouring +population, and the group was increased by the new contingent to +double that number. Most of them were sitting round the room in +seats divided by wooden elbows like those of crude cathedral +stalls, which were carved with the initials of many an illustrious +drunkard of former times who had passed his days and his nights +between them, and now lay as an alcoholic cinder in the nearest +churchyard. Among the cups on the long table before the sitters +lay an open parcel of light drapery—the gown-piece, as it was +called—which was to be raffled for. Wildeve was standing with his +back to the fireplace smoking a cigar; and the promoter of the +raffle, a packman from a distant town, was expatiating upon the +value of the fabric as material for a summer dress.</p> + +<p>"Now, gentlemen," he continued, as the newcomers drew up to the +table, "there's five have entered, and we want four more to make +up the number. I think, by the faces of those gentlemen who have +just come in, that they are shrewd enough to take advantage of +this rare opportunity of beautifying their ladies at a very +trifling expense."</p> + +<p>Fairway, Sam, and another placed their shillings on the table, and +the man turned to Christian.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Christian, drawing back, with a quick gaze of +misgiving. "I am only a poor chap come to look on, an it please +ye, sir. I don't so much as know how you do it. If so be I was +sure of getting it I would put down the shilling; but I couldn't +otherwise."</p> + +<p>"I think you might almost be sure," said the pedlar. "In fact, now +I look into your face, even if I can't say you are sure to win, I +can say that I never saw anything look more like winning in my +life."</p> + +<p>"You'll anyhow have the same chance as the rest of us," said Sam.</p> + +<p>"And the extra luck of being the last comer," said another.</p> + +<p>"And I was born wi' a caul, and perhaps can be no more ruined than +drowned?" Christian added, beginning to give way.</p> + +<p>Ultimately Christian laid down his shilling, the raffle began, and +the dice went round. When it came to Christian's turn he took the +box with a trembling hand, shook it fearfully, and threw a +pair-royal. Three of the others had thrown common low pairs, and +all the rest mere points.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman looked like winning, as I said," observed the +chapman blandly. "Take it, sir; the article is yours."</p> + +<p>"Haw-haw-haw!" said Fairway. "I'm damned if this isn't the quarest +start that ever I knowed!"</p> + +<p>"Mine?" asked Christian, with a vacant stare from his target eyes. +"I—I haven't got neither maid, wife, nor widder belonging to me +at all, and I'm afeard it will make me laughed at to ha'e it, +Master Traveller. What with being curious to join in I never +thought of that! What shall I do wi' a woman's clothes in my +bedroom, and not lose my decency!"</p> + +<p>"Keep 'em, to be sure," said Fairway, "if it is only for luck. +Perhaps 'twill tempt some woman that thy poor carcase had no power +over when standing empty-handed."</p> + +<p>"Keep it, certainly," said Wildeve, who had idly watched the scene +from a distance.</p> + +<p>The table was then cleared of the articles, and the men began to +drink.</p> + +<p>"Well, to be sure!" said Christian, half to himself. "To think I +should have been born so lucky as this, and not have found it out +until now! What curious creatures these dice be—powerful rulers +of us all, and yet at my command! I am sure I never need be +afeared of anything after this." He handled the dice fondly one by +one. "Why, sir," he said in a confidential whisper to Wildeve, who +was near his left hand, "if I could only use this power that's in +me of multiplying money I might do some good to a near relation of +yours, seeing what I've got about me of hers—eh?" He tapped one +of his money-laden boots upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"That's a secret. Well, I must be going now." He looked anxiously +towards Fairway.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" Wildeve asked.</p> + +<p>"To Mistover Knap. I have to see Mrs. Thomasin there—that's all."</p> + +<p>"I am going there, too, to fetch Mrs. Wildeve. We can walk +together."</p> + +<p>Wildeve became lost in thought, and a look of inward illumination +came into his eyes. It was money for his wife that Mrs. Yeobright +could not trust him with. "Yet she could trust this fellow," he +said to himself. "Why doesn't that which belongs to the wife +belong to the husband too?"</p> + +<p>He called to the pot-boy to bring him his hat, and said, "Now, +Christian, I am ready."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wildeve," said Christian timidly, as he turned to leave the +room, "would you mind lending me them wonderful little things that +carry my luck inside 'em, that I might practise a bit by myself, +you know?" He looked wistfully at the dice and box lying on the +mantlepiece.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Wildeve carelessly. "They were only cut out by +some lad with his knife, and are worth nothing." And Christian +went back and privately pocketed them.</p> + +<p>Wildeve opened the door and looked out. The night was warm and +cloudy. "By Gad! 'tis dark," he continued. "But I suppose we shall +find our way."</p> + +<p>"If we should lose the path it might be awkward," said Christian. +"A lantern is the only shield that will make it safe for us."</p> + +<p>"Let's have a lantern by all means." The stable lantern was +fetched and lighted. Christian took up his gownpiece, and the two +set out to ascend the hill.</p> + +<p>Within the room the men fell into chat till their attention was +for a moment drawn to the chimney-corner. This was large, and, in +addition to its proper recess, contained within its jambs, like +many on Egdon, a receding seat, so that a person might sit there +absolutely unobserved, provided there was no fire to light him up, +as was the case now and throughout the summer. From the niche a +single object protruded into the light from the candles on the +table. It was a clay pipe, and its colour was reddish. The men had +been attracted to this object by a voice behind the pipe asking +for a light.</p> + +<p>"Upon my life, it fairly startled me when the man spoke!" said +Fairway, handing a candle. "Oh—'tis the reddleman! You've kept a +quiet tongue, young man."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I had nothing to say," observed Venn. In a few minutes he +arose and wished the company good night.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Wildeve and Christian had plunged into the heath.</p> + +<p>It was a stagnant, warm, and misty night, full of all the heavy +perfumes of new vegetation not yet dried by hot sun, and among +these particularly the scent of the fern. The lantern, dangling +from Christian's hand, brushed the feathery fronds in passing by, +disturbing moths and other winged insects, which flew out and +alighted upon its horny panes.</p> + +<p>"So you have money to carry to Mrs. Wildeve?" said Christian's +companion, after a silence. "Don't you think it very odd that it +shouldn't be given to me?"</p> + +<p>"As man and wife be one flesh, 'twould have been all the same, I +should think," said Christian. "But my strict documents was, to +give the money into Mrs. Wildeve's hand—and 'tis well to do +things right."</p> + +<p>"No doubt," said Wildeve. Any person who had known the +circumstances might have perceived that Wildeve was mortified by +the discovery that the matter in transit was money, and not, as he +had supposed when at Blooms-End, some fancy nick-nack which only +interested the two women themselves. Mrs. Yeobright's refusal +implied that his honour was not considered to be of sufficiently +good quality to make him a safer bearer of his wife's property.</p> + +<p>"How very warm it is tonight, Christian!" he said, panting, when +they were nearly under Rainbarrow. "Let us sit down for a few +minutes, for Heaven's sake."</p> + +<p>Wildeve flung himself down on the soft ferns; and Christian, +placing the lantern and parcel on the ground, perched himself in a +cramped position hard by, his knees almost touching his chin. He +presently thrust one hand into his coat-pocket and began shaking +it about.</p> + +<p>"What are you rattling in there?" said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"Only the dice, sir," said Christian, quickly withdrawing his +hand. "What magical machines these little things be, Mr. Wildeve! +'Tis a game I should never get tired of. Would you mind my taking +'em out and looking at 'em for a minute, to see how they are made? +I didn't like to look close before the other men, for fear they +should think it bad manners in me." Christian took them out and +examined them in the hollow of his hand by the lantern light. +"That these little things should carry such luck, and such charm, +and such a spell, and such power in 'em, passes all I ever heard +or zeed," he went on, with a fascinated gaze at the dice, which, +as is frequently the case in country places, were made of wood, +the points being burnt upon each face with the end of a wire.</p> + +<p>"They are a great deal in a small compass, You think?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Do ye suppose they really be the devil's playthings, Mr. +Wildeve? If so, 'tis no good sign that I be such a lucky man."</p> + +<p>"You ought to win some money, now that you've got them. Any woman +would marry you then. Now is your time, Christian, and I would +recommend you not to let it slip. Some men are born to luck, some +are not. I belong to the latter class."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever know anybody who was born to it besides myself?"</p> + +<p>"O yes. I once heard of an Italian, who sat down at a gaming table +with only a louis (that's a foreign sovereign) in his pocket. He +played on for twenty-four hours, and won ten thousand pounds, +stripping the bank he had played against. Then there was another +man who had lost a thousand pounds, and went to the broker's next +day to sell stock, that he might pay the debt. The man to whom he +owed the money went with him in a hackney-coach; and to pass the +time they tossed who should pay the fare. The ruined man won, and +the other was tempted to continue the game, and they played all +the way. When the coachman stopped he was told to drive home +again: the whole thousand pounds had been won back by the man who +was going to sell."</p> + +<p>"Ha—ha—splendid!" exclaimed Christian. "Go on—go on!"</p> + +<p>"Then there was a man of London, who was only a waiter at White's +clubhouse. He began playing first half-crown stakes, and then +higher and higher, till he became very rich, got an appointment in +India, and rose to be Governor of Madras. His daughter married a +member of Parliament, and the Bishop of Carlisle stood godfather +to one of the children."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful! wonderful!"</p> + +<p>"And once there was a young man in America who gambled till he had +lost his last dollar. He staked his watch and chain, and lost as +before; staked his umbrella, lost again; staked his hat, lost +again; staked his coat and stood in his shirt-sleeve; lost again. +Began taking off his breeches, and then a looker-on gave him a +trifle for his pluck. With this he won. Won back his coat, won +back his hat, won back his umbrella, his watch, his money, and +went out of the door a rich man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'tis too good—it takes away my breath! Mr. Wildeve, I think +I will try another shilling with you, as I am one of that sort; no +danger can come o't, and you can afford to lose."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Wildeve, rising. Searching about with the +lantern, he found a large flat stone, which he placed between +himself and Christian, and sat down again. The lantern was opened +to give more light, and it's rays directed upon the stone. +Christian put down a shilling, Wildeve another, and each threw. +Christian won. They played for two, Christian won again.</p> + +<p>"Let us try four," said Wildeve. They played for four. This time +the stakes were won by Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"Ah, those little accidents will, of course, sometimes happen, to +the luckiest man," he observed.</p> + +<p>"And now I have no more money!" explained Christian excitedly. +"And yet, if I could go on, I should get it back again, and more. +I wish this was mine." He struck his boot upon the ground, so that +the guineas chinked within.</p> + +<p>"What! you have not put Mrs. Wildeve's money there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. 'Tis for safety. Is it any harm to raffle with a married +lady's money when, if I win, I shall only keep my winnings, and +give her her own all the same; and if t'other man wins, her money +will go to the lawful owner?"</p> + +<p>"None at all."</p> + +<p>Wildeve had been brooding ever since they started on the mean +estimation in which he was held by his wife's friends; and it cut +his heart severely. As the minutes passed he had gradually drifted +into a revengeful intention without knowing the precise moment of +forming it. This was to teach Mrs. Yeobright a lesson, as he +considered it to be; in other words, to show her if he could, that +her niece's husband was the proper guardian of her niece's money.</p> + +<p>"Well, here goes!" said Christian, beginning to unlace one boot. +"I shall dream of it nights and nights, I suppose; but I shall +always swear my flesh don't crawl when I think o't!"</p> + +<p>He thrust his hand into the boot and withdrew one of poor +Thomasin's precious guineas, piping hot. Wildeve had already +placed a sovereign on the stone. The game was then resumed. +Wildeve won first, and Christian ventured another, winning himself +this time. The game fluctuated, but the average was in Wildeve's +favour. Both men became so absorbed in the game that they took no +heed of anything but the pigmy objects immediately beneath their +eyes, the flat stone, the open lantern, the dice, and the few +illuminated fern-leaves which lay under the light, were the whole +world to them.</p> + +<p>At length Christian lost rapidly; and presently, to his horror, +the whole fifty guineas belonging to Thomasin had been handed over +to his adversary.</p> + +<p>"I don't care—I don't care!" he moaned, and desperately set about +untying his left boot to get at the other fifty. "The devil will +toss me into the flames on his three-pronged fork for this night's +work, I know! But perhaps I shall win yet, and then I'll get a +wife to sit up with me o' nights, and I won't be afeard, I won't! +Here's another for'ee, my man!" He slapped another guinea down +upon the stone, and the dice-box was rattled again.</p> + +<p>Time passed on. Wildeve began to be as excited as Christian +himself. When commencing the game his intention had been nothing +further than a bitter practical joke on Mrs. Yeobright. To win the +money, fairly or otherwise, and to hand it contemptuously to +Thomasin in her aunt's presence, had been the dim outline of his +purpose. But men are drawn from their intentions even in the +course of carrying them out, and it was extremely doubtful, by the +time the twentieth guinea had been reached, whether Wildeve was +conscious of any other intention than that of winning for his own +personal benefit. Moreover, he was now no longer gambling for his +wife's money, but for Yeobright's; though of this fact Christian, +in his apprehensiveness, did not inform him till afterwards.</p> + +<p>It was nearly eleven o'clock, when, with almost a shriek, +Christian placed Yeobright's last gleaming guinea upon the stone. +In thirty seconds it had gone the way of its companions.</p> + +<p>Christian turned and flung himself on the ferns in a convulsion of +remorse, "O, what shall I do with my wretched self?" he groaned. +"What shall I do? Will any good Heaven hae mercy upon my wicked +soul?"</p> + +<p>"Do? Live on just the same."</p> + +<p>"I won't live on just the same! I'll die! I say you are a—a—"</p> + +<p>"A man sharper than my neighbour."</p> + +<p>"Yes, a man sharper than my neighbour; a regular sharper!"</p> + +<p>"Poor chips-in-porridge, you are very unmannerly."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that! And I say you be unmannerly! You've got +money that isn't your own. Half the guineas are poor Mr. Clym's."</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>"Because I had to gie fifty of 'em to him. Mrs. Yeobright said +so."</p> + +<p>"Oh?… Well, 'twould have been more graceful of her to have +given them to his wife Eustacia. But they are in my hands now."</p> + +<p>Christian pulled on his boots, and with heavy breathings, which +could be heard to some distance, dragged his limbs together, +arose, and tottered away out of sight. Wildeve set about shutting +the lantern to return to the house, for he deemed it too late to +go to Mistover to meet his wife, who was to be driven home in the +captain's four-wheel. While he was closing the little horn door a +figure rose from behind a neighbouring bush and came forward into +the lantern light. It was the reddleman approaching.</p> + + +<p><a name="3-8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII</h3> +<h3>A New Force Disturbs the Current<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Wildeve stared. Venn looked coolly towards Wildeve, and, without a +word being spoken, he deliberately sat himself down where +Christian had been seated, thrust his hand into his pocket, drew +out a sovereign, and laid it on the stone.</p> + +<p>"You have been watching us from behind that bush?" said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>The reddleman nodded. "Down with your stake," he said. "Or haven't +you pluck enough to go on?"</p> + +<p>Now, gambling is a species of amusement which is much more easily +begun with full pockets than left off with the same; and though +Wildeve in a cooler temper might have prudently declined this +invitation, the excitement of his recent success carried him +completely away. He placed one of the guineas on a slab beside the +reddleman's sovereign. "Mine is a guinea," he said.</p> + +<p>"A guinea that's not your own," said Venn sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"It is my own," answered Wildeve haughtily. "It is my wife's, and +what is hers is mine."</p> + +<p>"Very well; let's make a beginning." He shook the box, and threw +eight, ten, and nine; the three casts amounted to twenty-seven.</p> + +<p>This encouraged Wildeve. He took the box; and his three casts +amounted to forty-five.</p> + +<p>Down went another of the reddleman's sovereigns against his first +one which Wildeve laid. This time Wildeve threw fifty-one points, +but no pair. The reddleman looked grim, threw a raffle of aces, +and pocketed the stakes.</p> + +<p>"Here you are again," said Wildeve contemptuously. "Double the +stakes." He laid two of Thomasin's guineas, and the reddleman his +two pounds. Venn won again. New stakes were laid on the stone, and +the gamblers proceeded as before.</p> + +<p>Wildeve was a nervous and excitable man, and the game was +beginning to tell upon his temper. He writhed, fumed, shifted his +seat; and the beating of his heart was almost audible. Venn sat +with lips impassively closed and eyes reduced to a pair of +unimportant twinkles; he scarcely appeared to breathe. He might +have been an Arab, or an automaton; he would have been like a red +sandstone statue but for the motion of his arm with the dice-box.</p> + +<p>The game fluctuated, now in favour of one, now in favour of the +other, without any great advantage on the side of either. Nearly +twenty minutes were passed thus. The light of the candle had by +this time attracted heathflies, moths, and other winged creatures +of night, which floated round the lantern, flew into the flame, or +beat about the faces of the two players.</p> + +<p>But neither of the men paid much attention to these things, their +eyes being concentrated upon the little flat stone, which to them +was an arena vast and important as a battlefield. By this time a +change had come over the game; the reddleman won continually. At +length sixty guineas—Thomasin's fifty, and ten of Clym's—had +passed into his hands. Wildeve was reckless, frantic, exasperated.</p> + +<p>"'Won back his coat,'" said Venn slily.</p> + +<p>Another throw, and the money went the same way.</p> + +<p>"'Won back his hat,'" continued Venn.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh!" said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"'Won back his watch, won back his money, and went out of the door +a rich man,'" added Venn sentence by sentence, as stake after +stake passed over to him.</p> + +<p>"Five more!" shouted Wildeve, dashing down the money. "And three +casts be hanged—one shall decide."</p> + +<p>The red automaton opposite lapsed into silence, nodded, and +followed his example. Wildeve rattled the box, and threw a pair of +sixes and five points. He clapped his hands; "I have done it this +time—hurrah!"</p> + +<p>"There are two playing, and only one has thrown," said the +reddleman, quietly bringing down the box. The eyes of each were +then so intently converged upon the stone that one could fancy +their beams were visible, like rays in a fog.</p> + +<p>Venn lifted the box, and behold a triplet of sixes was disclosed.</p> + +<p>Wildeve was full of fury. While the reddleman was grasping the +stakes Wildeve seized the dice and hurled them, box and all, into +the darkness, uttering a fearful imprecation. Then he arose and +began stamping up and down like a madman.</p> + +<p>"It is all over, then?" said Venn.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" cried Wildeve. "I mean to have another chance yet. I +must!"</p> + +<p>"But, my good man, what have you done with the dice?"</p> + +<p>"I threw them away—it was a momentary irritation. What a fool I +am! Here—come and help me to look for them—we must find them +again."</p> + +<p>Wildeve snatched up the lantern and began anxiously prowling among +the furze and fern.</p> + +<p>"You are not likely to find them there," said Venn, following. +"What did you do such a crazy thing as that for? Here's the box. +The dice can't be far off."</p> + +<p>Wildeve turned the light eagerly upon the spot where Venn had +found the box, and mauled the herbage right and left. In the +course of a few minutes one of the dice was found. They searched +on for some time, but no other was to be seen.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Wildeve; "let's play with one."</p> + +<p>"Agreed," said Venn.</p> + +<p>Down they sat again, and recommenced with single guinea stakes; +and the play went on smartly. But Fortune had unmistakably fallen +in love with the reddleman tonight. He won steadily, till he was +the owner of fourteen more of the gold pieces. Seventy-nine of the +hundred guineas were his, Wildeve possessing only twenty-one. The +aspect of the two opponents was now singular. Apart from motions, +a complete diorama of the fluctuations of the game went on in +their eyes. A diminutive candle-flame was mirrored in each pupil, +and it would have been possible to distinguish therein between the +moods of hope and the moods of abandonment, even as regards the +reddleman, though his facial muscles betrayed nothing at all. +Wildeve played on with the recklessness of despair.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he suddenly exclaimed, hearing a rustle; and they +both looked up.</p> + +<p>They were surrounded by dusky forms between four and five feet +high, standing a few paces beyond the rays of the lantern. A +moment's inspection revealed that the encircling figures were +heath-croppers, their heads being all towards the players, at whom +they gazed intently.</p> + +<p>"Hoosh!" said Wildeve, and the whole forty or fifty animals at +once turned and galloped away. Play was again resumed.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes passed away. Then a large death's head moth advanced +from the obscure outer air, wheeled twice round the lantern, flew +straight at the candle, and extinguished it by the force of the +blow. Wildeve had just thrown, but had not lifted the box to see +what he had cast; and now it was impossible.</p> + +<p>"What the infernal!" he shrieked. "Now, what shall we do? Perhaps +I have thrown six—have you any matches?"</p> + +<p>"None," said Venn.</p> + +<p>"Christian had some—I wonder where he is. Christian!"</p> + +<p>But there was no reply to Wildeve's shout, save a mournful whining +from the herons which were nesting lower down the vale. Both men +looked blankly round without rising. As their eyes grew accustomed +to the darkness they perceived faint greenish points of light +among the grass and fern. These lights dotted the hillside like +stars of a low magnitude.</p> + +<p>"Ah—glowworms," said Wildeve. "Wait a minute. We can continue the +game."</p> + +<p>Venn sat still, and his companion went hither and thither till he +had gathered thirteen glowworms—as many as he could find in a +space of four or five minutes—upon a foxglove leaf which he +pulled for the purpose. The reddleman vented a low humorous laugh +when he saw his adversary return with these. "Determined to go on, +then?" he said drily.</p> + +<p>"I always am!" said Wildeve angrily. And shaking the glowworms +from the leaf he ranged them with a trembling hand in a circle on +the stone, leaving a space in the middle for the descent of the +dice-box, over which the thirteen tiny lamps threw a pale +phosphoric shine. The game was again renewed. It happened to be +that season of the year at which glowworms put forth their +greatest brilliancy, and the light they yielded was more than +ample for the purpose, since it is possible on such nights to read +the handwriting of a letter by the light of two or three.</p> + +<p>The incongruity between the men's deeds and their environment was +great. Amid the soft juicy vegetation of the hollow in which they +sat, the motionless and the uninhabited solitude, intruded the +chink of guineas, the rattle of dice, the exclamations of the +reckless players.</p> + +<p>Wildeve had lifted the box as soon as the lights were obtained, +and the solitary die proclaimed that the game was still against +him.</p> + +<p>"I won't play any more—you've been tampering with the dice," he +shouted.</p> + +<p>"How—when they were your own?" said the reddleman.</p> + +<p>"We'll change the game: the lowest point shall win the stake—it +may cut off my ill luck. Do you refuse?"</p> + +<p>"No—go on," said Venn.</p> + +<p>"O, there they are again—damn them!" cried Wildeve, looking up. +The heath-croppers had returned noiselessly, and were looking on +with erect heads just as before, their timid eyes fixed upon the +scene, as if they were wondering what mankind and candle-light +could have to do in these haunts at this untoward hour.</p> + +<p>"What a plague those creatures are—staring at me so!" he said, +and flung a stone, which scattered them; when the game was +continued as before.</p> + +<p>Wildeve had now ten guineas left; and each laid five. Wildeve +threw three points; Venn two, and raked in the coins. The other +seized the die, and clenched his teeth upon it in sheer rage, as +if he would bite it in pieces. "Never give in—here are my last +five!" he cried, throwing them down. "Hang the glowworms—they +are going out. Why don't you burn, you little fools? Stir them +up with a thorn."</p> + +<p>He probed the glowworms with a bit of stick, and rolled them over, +till the bright side of their tails was upwards.</p> + +<p>"There's light enough. Throw on," said Venn.</p> + +<p>Wildeve brought down the box within the shining circle and looked +eagerly. He had thrown ace. "Well done!—I said it would turn, and +it has turned." Venn said nothing; but his hand shook slightly.</p> + +<p>He threw ace also.</p> + +<p>"O!" said Wildeve. "Curse me!"</p> + +<p>The die smacked the stone a second time. It was ace again. Venn +looked gloomy, threw: the die was seen to be lying in two pieces, +the cleft sides uppermost.</p> + +<p>"I've thrown nothing at all," he said.</p> + +<p>"Serves me right—I split the die with my teeth. Here—take your +money. Blank is less than one."</p> + +<p>"I don't wish it."</p> + +<p>"Take it, I say—you've won it!" And Wildeve threw the stakes +against the reddleman's chest. Venn gathered them up, arose, and +withdrew from the hollow, Wildeve sitting stupefied.</p> + +<p>When he had come to himself he also arose, and, with the +extinguished lantern in his hand, went towards the high-road. On +reaching it he stood still. The silence of night pervaded the +whole heath except in one direction; and that was towards +Mistover. There he could hear the noise of light wheels, and +presently saw two carriage-lamps descending the hill. Wildeve +screened himself under a bush and waited.</p> + +<p>The vehicle came on and passed before him. It was a hired +carriage, and behind the coachman were two persons whom he knew +well. There sat Eustacia and Yeobright, the arm of the latter +being round her waist. They turned the sharp corner at the bottom +towards the temporary home which Clym had hired and furnished, +about five miles to the eastward.</p> + +<p>Wildeve forgot the loss of the money at the sight of his lost +love, whose preciousness in his eyes was increasing in geometrical +progression with each new incident that reminded him of their +hopeless division. Brimming with the subtilized misery that he was +capable of feeling, he followed the opposite way towards the inn.</p> + +<p>About the same moment that Wildeve stepped into the highway Venn +also had reached it at a point a hundred yards further on; and he, +hearing the same wheels, likewise waited till the carriage should +come up. When he saw who sat therein he seemed to be disappointed. +Reflecting a minute or two, during which interval the carriage +rolled on, he crossed the road, and took a short cut through the +furze and heath to a point where the turnpike-road bent round in +ascending a hill. He was now again in front of the carriage, which +presently came up at a walking pace. Venn stepped forward and +showed himself.</p> + +<p>Eustacia started when the lamp shone upon him, and Clym's arm was +involuntarily withdrawn from her waist. He said, "What, Diggory? +You are having a lonely walk."</p> + +<p>"Yes—I beg your pardon for stopping you," said Venn. "But I am +waiting about for Mrs. Wildeve: I have something to give her from +Mrs. Yeobright. Can you tell me if she's gone home from the party +yet?"</p> + +<p>"No. But she will be leaving soon. You may possibly meet her at +the corner."</p> + +<p>Venn made a farewell obeisance, and walked back to his former +position, where the by-road from Mistover joined the highway. Here +he remained fixed for nearly half an hour, and then another pair +of lights came down the hill. It was the old-fashioned wheeled +nondescript belonging to the captain, and Thomasin sat in it +alone, driven by Charley.</p> + +<p>The reddleman came up as they slowly turned the corner. "I beg +pardon for stopping you, Mrs. Wildeve," he said. "But I have +something to give you privately from Mrs. Yeobright." He handed a +small parcel; it consisted of the hundred guineas he had just won, +roughly twisted up in a piece of paper.</p> + +<p>Thomasin recovered from her surprise, and took the packet. "That's +all, ma'am—I wish you good night," he said, and vanished from her +view.</p> + +<p>Thus Venn, in his anxiety to rectify matters, had placed in +Thomasin's hands not only the fifty guineas which rightly belonged +to her, but also the fifty intended for her cousin Clym. His +mistake had been based upon Wildeve's words at the opening of the +game, when he indignantly denied that the guinea was not his own. +It had not been comprehended by the reddleman that at half-way +through the performance the game was continued with the money of +another person; and it was an error which afterwards helped to +cause more misfortune than treble the loss in money value could +have done.</p> + +<p>The night was now somewhat advanced; and Venn plunged deeper into +the heath, till he came to a ravine where his van was standing—a +spot not more than two hundred yards from the site of the gambling +bout. He entered this movable home of his, lit his lantern, and, +before closing his door for the night, stood reflecting on the +circumstances of the preceding hours. While he stood the dawn grew +visible in the north-east quarter of the heavens, which, the clouds +having cleared off, was bright with a soft sheen at this midsummer +time, though it was only between one and two o'clock. Venn, +thoroughly weary, then shut his door and flung himself down to +sleep.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="4-1"></a> </p> +<h3>BOOK FOURTH</h3> +<h2>THE CLOSED DOOR</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>I</h3> +<h3>The Rencounter by the Pool<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The July sun shone over Egdon and fired its crimson heather to +scarlet. It was the one season of the year, and the one weather of +the season, in which the heath was gorgeous. This flowering period +represented the second or noontide division in the cycle of those +superficial changes which alone were possible here; it followed +the green or young-fern period, representing the morn, and +preceded the brown period, when the heathbells and ferns would +wear the russet tinges of evening; to be in turn displaced by the +dark hue of the winter period, representing night.</p> + +<p>Clym and Eustacia, in their little house at Alderworth, beyond +East Egdon, were living on with a monotony which was delightful to +them. The heath and changes of weather were quite blotted out from +their eyes for the present. They were enclosed in a sort of +luminous mist, which hid from them surroundings of any +inharmonious colour, and gave to all things the character of +light. When it rained they were charmed, because they could remain +indoors together all day with such a show of reason; when it was +fine they were charmed, because they could sit together on the +hills. They were like those double stars which revolve round and +round each other, and from a distance appear to be one. The +absolute solitude in which they lived intensified their reciprocal +thoughts; yet some might have said that it had the disadvantage of +consuming their mutual affections at a fearfully prodigal rate. +Yeobright did not fear for his own part; but recollection of +Eustacia's old speech about the evanescence of love, now +apparently forgotten by her, sometimes caused him to ask himself a +question; and he recoiled at the thought that the quality of +finiteness was not foreign to Eden.</p> + +<p>When three or four weeks had been passed thus, Yeobright resumed +his reading in earnest. To make up for lost time he studied +indefatigably, for he wished to enter his new profession with the +least possible delay.</p> + +<p>Now, Eustacia's dream had always been that, once married to Clym, +she would have the power of inducing him to return to Paris. He +had carefully withheld all promise to do so; but would he be proof +against her coaxing and argument? She had calculated to such a +degree on the probability of success that she had represented +Paris, and not Budmouth, to her grandfather as in all likelihood +their future home. Her hopes were bound up in this dream. In the +quiet days since their marriage, when Yeobright had been poring +over her lips, her eyes, and the lines of her face, she had mused +and mused on the subject, even while in the act of returning his +gaze; and now the sight of the books, indicating a future which +was antagonistic to her dream, struck her with a positively +painful jar. She was hoping for the time when, as the mistress of +some pretty establishment, however small, near a Parisian +Boulevard, she would be passing her days on the skirts at least of +the gay world, and catching stray wafts from those town pleasures +she was so well fitted to enjoy. Yet Yeobright was as firm in the +contrary intention as if the tendency of marriage were rather to +develop the fantasies of young philanthropy than to sweep them +away.</p> + +<p>Her anxiety reached a high pitch; but there was something in +Clym's undeviating manner which made her hesitate before sounding +him on the subject. At this point in their experience, however, an +incident helped her. It occurred one evening about six weeks after +their union, and arose entirely out of the unconscious +misapplication of Venn of the fifty guineas intended for +Yeobright.</p> + +<p>A day or two after the receipt of the money Thomasin had sent a +note to her aunt to thank her. She had been surprised at the +largeness of the amount; but as no sum had ever been mentioned she +set that down to her late uncle's generosity. She had been +strictly charged by her aunt to say nothing to her husband of this +gift; and Wildeve, as was natural enough, had not brought himself +to mention to his wife a single particular of the midnight scene +in the heath. Christian's terror, in like manner, had tied his +tongue on the share he took in that proceeding; and hoping that by +some means or other the money had gone to its proper destination, +he simply asserted as much, without giving details.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when a week or two had passed away, Mrs. Yeobright +began to wonder why she never heard from her son of the receipt of +the present; and to add gloom to her perplexity came the +possibility that resentment might be the cause of his silence. She +could hardly believe as much, but why did he not write? She +questioned Christian, and the confusion in his answers would at +once have led her to believe that something was wrong, had not +one-half of his story been corroborated by Thomasin's note.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright was in this state of uncertainty when she was +informed one morning that her son's wife was visiting her +grandfather at Mistover. She determined to walk up the hill, see +Eustacia, and ascertain from her daughter-in-law's lips whether +the family guineas, which were to Mrs. Yeobright what family +jewels are to wealthier dowagers, had miscarried or not.</p> + +<p>When Christian learnt where she was going his concern reached its +height. At the moment of her departure he could prevaricate no +longer, and, confessing to the gambling, told her the truth as far +as he knew it—that the guineas had been won by Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"What, is he going to keep them?" Mrs. Yeobright cried.</p> + +<p>"I hope and trust not!" moaned Christian. "He's a good man, and +perhaps will do right things. He said you ought to have gied Mr. +Clym's share to Eustacia, and that's perhaps what he'll do +himself."</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Yeobright, as soon as she could calmly reflect, there was +much likelihood in this, for she could hardly believe that Wildeve +would really appropriate money belonging to her son. The +intermediate course of giving it to Eustacia was the sort of thing +to please Wildeve's fancy. But it filled the mother with anger +none the less. That Wildeve should have got command of the guineas +after all, and should rearrange the disposal of them, placing +Clym's share in Clym's wife's hands, because she had been his own +sweetheart, and might be so still, was as irritating a pain as any +that Mrs. Yeobright had ever borne.</p> + +<p>She instantly dismissed the wretched Christian from her employ for +his conduct in the affair; but, feeling quite helpless and unable +to do without him, told him afterwards that he might stay a little +longer if he chose. Then she hastened off to Eustacia, moved by a +much less promising emotion towards her daughter-in-law than she +had felt half an hour earlier, when planning her journey. At that +time it was to inquire in a friendly spirit if there had been any +accidental loss; now it was to ask plainly if Wildeve had +privately given her money which had been intended as a sacred gift +to Clym.</p> + +<p>She started at two o'clock, and her meeting with Eustacia was +hastened by the appearance of the young lady beside the pool and +bank which bordered her grandfather's premises, where she stood +surveying the scene, and perhaps thinking of the romantic +enactments it had witnessed in past days. When Mrs. Yeobright +approached, Eustacia surveyed her with the calm stare of a +stranger.</p> + +<p>The mother-in-law was the first to speak. "I was coming to see +you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said Eustacia with surprise, for Mrs. Yeobright, much to +the girl's mortification, had refused to be present at the +wedding. "I did not at all expect you."</p> + +<p>"I was coming on business only," said the visitor, more coldly +than at first. "Will you excuse my asking this—Have you received +a gift from Thomasin's husband?"</p> + +<p>"A gift?"</p> + +<p>"I mean money!"</p> + +<p>"What—I myself?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I meant yourself, privately—though I was not going to put +it in that way."</p> + +<p>"Money from Mr. Wildeve? No—never! Madam, what do you mean by +that?" Eustacia fired up all too quickly, for her own +consciousness of the old attachment between herself and Wildeve +led her to jump to the conclusion that Mrs. Yeobright also knew of +it, and might have come to accuse her of receiving dishonourable +presents from him now.</p> + +<p>"I simply ask the question," said Mrs. Yeobright. "I have +been—"</p> + +<p>"You ought to have better opinions of me—I feared you were +against me from the first!" exclaimed Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"No. I was simply for Clym," replied Mrs. Yeobright, with too much +emphasis in her earnestness. "It is the instinct of everyone to +look after their own."</p> + +<p>"How can you imply that he required guarding against me?" cried +Eustacia, passionate tears in her eyes. "I have not injured him by +marrying him! What sin have I done that you should think so ill of +me? You had no right to speak against me to him when I have never +wronged you."</p> + +<p>"I only did what was fair under the circumstances," said Mrs. +Yeobright more softly. "I would rather not have gone into this +question at present, but you compel me. I am not ashamed to tell +you the honest truth. I was firmly convinced that he ought not to +marry you—therefore I tried to dissuade him by all the means in +my power. But it is done now, and I have no idea of complaining +any more. I am ready to welcome you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, it is very well to see things in that business point of +view," murmured Eustacia with a smothered fire of feeling. "But +why should you think there is anything between me and Mr. Wildeve? +I have a spirit as well as you. I am indignant; and so would any +woman be. It was a condescension in me to be Clym's wife, and not +a manoeuvre, let me remind you; and therefore I will not be +treated as a schemer whom it becomes necessary to bear with +because she has crept into the family."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mrs. Yeobright, vainly endeavouring to control her +anger. "I have never heard anything to show that my son's lineage +is not as good as the Vyes'—perhaps better. It is amusing to hear +you talk of condescension."</p> + +<p>"It was condescension, nevertheless," said Eustacia vehemently. +"And if I had known then what I know now, that I should be living +in this wild heath a month after my marriage, I—I should have +thought twice before agreeing."</p> + +<p>"It would be better not to say that; it might not sound truthful. +I am not aware that any deception was used on his part—I know +there was not—whatever might have been the case on the other +side."</p> + +<p>"This is too exasperating!" answered the younger woman huskily, +her face crimsoning, and her eyes darting light. "How can you dare +to speak to me like that? I insist upon repeating to you that had +I known that my life would from my marriage up to this time have +been as it is, I should have said <i>No</i>. I don't complain. I +have never uttered a sound of such a thing to him; but it is true. +I hope therefore that in the future you will be silent on my +eagerness. If you injure me now you injure yourself."</p> + +<p>"Injure you? Do you think I am an evil-disposed person?"</p> + +<p>"You injured me before my marriage, and you have now suspected me +of secretly favouring another man for money!"</p> + +<p>"I could not help what I thought. But I have never spoken of you +outside my house."</p> + +<p>"You spoke of me within it, to Clym, and you could not do worse."</p> + +<p>"I did my duty."</p> + +<p>"And I'll do mine."</p> + +<p>"A part of which will possibly be to set him against his mother. +It is always so. But why should I not bear it as others have borne +it before me!"</p> + +<p>"I understand you," said Eustacia, breathless with emotion. "You +think me capable of every bad thing. Who can be worse than a wife +who encourages a lover, and poisons her husband's mind against his +relative? Yet that is now the character given to me. Will you not +come and drag him out of my hands?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright gave back heat for heat.</p> + +<p>"Don't rage at me, madam! It ill becomes your beauty, and I am not +worth the injury you may do it on my account, I assure you. I am +only a poor old woman who has lost a son."</p> + +<p>"If you had treated me honourably you would have had him still." +Eustacia said, while scalding tears trickled from her eyes. "You +have brought yourself to folly; you have caused a division which +can never be healed!"</p> + +<p>"I have done nothing. This audacity from a young woman is more +than I can bear."</p> + +<p>"It was asked for; you have suspected me, and you have made me +speak of my husband in a way I would not have done. You will let +him know that I have spoken thus, and it will cause misery between +us. Will you go away from me? You are no friend!"</p> + +<p>"I will go when I have spoken a word. If anyone says I have come +here to question you without good grounds for it, that person +speaks untruly. If anyone says that I attempted to stop your +marriage by any but honest means, that person, too, does not speak +the truth. I have fallen on an evil time; God has been unjust to +me in letting you insult me! Probably my son's happiness does not +lie on this side of the grave, for he is a foolish man who +neglects the advice of his parent. You, Eustacia, stand on the +edge of a precipice without knowing it. Only show my son one-half +the temper you have shown me today—and you may before long—and +you will find that though he is as gentle as a child with you now, +he can be as hard as steel!"</p> + +<p>The excited mother then withdrew, and Eustacia, panting, stood +looking into the pool.</p> + + +<p><a name="4-2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II</h3> +<h3>He Is Set Upon by Adversities; but He Sings a Song<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The result of that unpropitious interview was that Eustacia, +instead of passing the afternoon with her grandfather, hastily +returned home to Clym, where she arrived three hours earlier than +she had been expected.</p> + +<p>She came indoors with her face flushed, and her eyes still showing +traces of her recent excitement. Yeobright looked up astonished; +he had never seen her in any way approaching to that state before. +She passed him by, and would have gone upstairs unnoticed, but +Clym was so concerned that he immediately followed her.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Eustacia?" he said. She was standing on the +hearthrug in the bedroom, looking upon the floor, her hands +clasped in front of her, her bonnet yet unremoved. For a moment +she did not answer; and then she replied in a low voice—</p> + +<p>"I have seen your mother; and I will never see her again!"</p> + +<p>A weight fell like a stone upon Clym. That same morning, when +Eustacia had arranged to go and see her grandfather, Clym had +expressed a wish that she would drive down to Blooms-End and +inquire for her mother-in-law, or adopt any other means she might +think fit to bring about a reconciliation. She had set out gaily; +and he had hoped for much.</p> + +<p>"Why is this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell—I cannot remember. I met your mother. And I will +never meet her again."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"What do I know about Mr. Wildeve now? I won't have wicked +opinions passed on me by anybody. O! it was too humiliating to be +asked if I had received any money from him, or encouraged him, or +something of the sort—I don't exactly know what!"</p> + +<p>"How could she have asked you that?"</p> + +<p>"She did."</p> + +<p>"Then there must have been some meaning in it. What did my mother +say besides?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what she said, except in so far as this, that we +both said words which can never be forgiven!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there must be some misapprehension. Whose fault was it that +her meaning was not made clear?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather not say. It may have been the fault of the +circumstances, which were awkward at the very least. O Clym—I +cannot help expressing it—this is an unpleasant position that you +have placed me in. But you must improve it—yes, say you will—for +I hate it all now! Yes, take me to Paris, and go on with your old +occupation, Clym! I don't mind how humbly we live there at first, +if it can only be Paris, and not Egdon Heath."</p> + +<p>"But I have quite given up that idea," said Yeobright, with +surprise. "Surely I never led you to expect such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"I own it. Yet there are thoughts which cannot be kept out of +mind, and that one was mine. Must I not have a voice in the +matter, now I am your wife and the sharer of your doom?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there are things which are placed beyond the pale of +discussion; and I thought this was specially so, and by mutual +agreement."</p> + +<p>"Clym, I am unhappy at what I hear," she said in a low voice; and +her eyes drooped, and she turned away.</p> + +<p>This indication of an unexpected mine of hope in Eustacia's bosom +disconcerted her husband. It was the first time that he had +confronted the fact of the indirectness of a woman's movement +towards her desire. But his intention was unshaken, though he +loved Eustacia well. All the effect that her remark had upon him +was a resolve to chain himself more closely than ever to his +books, so as to be the sooner enabled to appeal to substantial +results from another course in arguing against her whim.</p> + +<p>Next day the mystery of the guineas was explained. Thomasin paid +them a hurried visit, and Clym's share was delivered up to him by +her own hands. Eustacia was not present at the time.</p> + +<p>"Then this is what my mother meant," exclaimed Clym. "Thomasin, do +you know that they have had a bitter quarrel?"</p> + +<p>There was a little more reticence now than formerly in Thomasin's +manner towards her cousin. It is the effect of marriage to +engender in several directions some of the reserve it annihilates +in one. "Your mother told me," she said quietly. "She came back to +my house after seeing Eustacia."</p> + +<p>"The worst thing I dreaded has come to pass. Was mother much +disturbed when she came to you, Thomasin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Very much indeed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Clym leant his elbow upon the post of the garden gate, and covered +his eyes with his hand.</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble about it, Clym. They may get to be friends."</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "Not two people with inflammable natures like +theirs. Well, what must be will be."</p> + +<p>"One thing is cheerful in it—the guineas are not lost."</p> + +<p>"I would rather have lost them twice over than have had this +happen."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Amid these jarring events Yeobright felt one thing to be +indispensable—that he should speedily make some show of progress +in his scholastic plans. With this view he read far into the small +hours during many nights.</p> + +<p>One morning, after a severer strain than usual, he awoke with a +strange sensation in his eyes. The sun was shining directly upon +the window-blind, and at his first glance thitherward a sharp pain +obliged him to close his eyelids quickly. At every new attempt to +look about him the same morbid sensibility to light was +manifested, and excoriating tears ran down his cheeks. He was +obliged to tie a bandage over his brow while dressing; and during +the day it could not be abandoned. Eustacia was thoroughly +alarmed. On finding that the case was no better the next morning +they decided to send to Anglebury for a surgeon.</p> + +<p>Towards evening he arrived, and pronounced the disease to be acute +inflammation induced by Clym's night studies, continued in spite +of a cold previously caught, which had weakened his eyes for the +time.</p> + +<p>Fretting with impatience at this interruption to a task he was so +anxious to hasten, Clym was transformed into an invalid. He was +shut up in a room from which all light was excluded, and his +condition would have been one of absolute misery had not Eustacia +read to him by the glimmer of a shaded lamp. He hoped that the +worst would soon be over; but at the surgeon's third visit he +learnt to his dismay that although he might venture out of doors +with shaded eyes in the course of a month, all thought of pursuing +his work, or of reading print of any description, would have to be +given up for a long time to come.</p> + +<p>One week and another week wore on, and nothing seemed to lighten +the gloom of the young couple. Dreadful imaginings occurred to +Eustacia, but she carefully refrained from uttering them to her +husband. Suppose he should become blind, or, at all events, never +recover sufficient strength of sight to engage in an occupation +which would be congenial to her feelings, and conduce to her +removal from this lonely dwelling among the hills? That dream of +beautiful Paris was not likely to cohere into substance in the +presence of this misfortune. As day after day passed by, and he +got no better, her mind ran more and more in this mournful groove, +and she would go away from him into the garden and weep despairing +tears.</p> + +<p>Yeobright thought he would send for his mother; and then he +thought he would not. Knowledge of his state could only make her +the more unhappy; and the seclusion of their life was such that +she would hardly be likely to learn the news except through a +special messenger. Endeavouring to take the trouble as +philosophically as possible, he waited on till the third week had +arrived, when he went into the open air for the first time since +the attack. The surgeon visited him again at this stage, and Clym +urged him to express a distinct opinion. The young man learnt with +added surprise that the date at which he might expect to resume +his labours was as uncertain as ever, his eyes being in that +peculiar state which, though affording him sight enough for +walking about, would not admit of their being strained upon any +definite object without incurring the risk of reproducing +ophthalmia in its acute form.</p> + +<p>Clym was very grave at the intelligence, but not despairing. A +quiet firmness, and even cheerfulness, took possession of him. He +was not to be blind; that was enough. To be doomed to behold the +world through smoked glass for an indefinite period was bad +enough, and fatal to any kind of advance; but Yeobright was an +absolute stoic in the face of mishaps which only affected his +social standing; and, apart from Eustacia, the humblest walk of +life would satisfy him if it could be made to work in with some +form of his culture scheme. To keep a cottage night-school was one +such form; and his affliction did not master his spirit as it +might otherwise have done.</p> + +<p>He walked through the warm sun westward into those tracts of Egdon +with which he was best acquainted, being those lying nearer to his +old home. He saw before him in one of the valleys the gleaming of +whetted iron, and advancing, dimly perceived that the shine came +from the tool of a man who was cutting furze. The worker +recognized Clym, and Yeobright learnt from the voice that the +speaker was Humphrey.</p> + +<p>Humphrey expressed his sorrow at Clym's condition; and added, +"Now, if yours was low-class work like mine, you could go on with +it just the same."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I could," said Yeobright musingly. "How much do you get for +cutting these faggots?"</p> + +<p>"Half-a-crown a hundred, and in these long days I can live very +well on the wages."</p> + +<p>During the whole of Yeobright's walk home to Alderworth he was +lost in reflections which were not of an unpleasant kind. On his +coming up to the house Eustacia spoke to him from the open window, +and he went across to her.</p> + +<p>"Darling," he said, "I am much happier. And if my mother were +reconciled to me and to you I should, I think, be happy quite."</p> + +<p>"I fear that will never be," she said, looking afar with her +beautiful stormy eyes. "How <i>can</i> you say 'I am happier,' +and nothing changed?"</p> + +<p>"It arises from my having at last discovered something I can do, +and get a living at, in this time of misfortune."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to be a furze and turf-cutter."</p> + +<p>"No, Clym!" she said, the slight hopefulness previously apparent +in her face going off again, and leaving her worse than before.</p> + +<p>"Surely I shall. Is it not very unwise in us to go on spending the +little money we've got when I can keep down expenditure by an +honest occupation? The outdoor exercise will do me good, and who +knows but that in a few months I shall be able to go on with my +reading again?"</p> + +<p>"But my grandfather offers to assist us, if we require +assistance."</p> + +<p>"We don't require it. If I go furze-cutting we shall be fairly +well off."</p> + +<p>"In comparison with slaves, and the Israelites in Egypt, and such +people!" A bitter tear rolled down Eustacia's face, which he did +not see. There had been <i>nonchalance</i> in his tone, showing +her that he felt no absolute grief at a consummation which to +her was a positive horror.</p> + +<p>The very next day Yeobright went to Humphrey's cottage, and +borrowed of him leggings, gloves, a whet-stone, and a hook, to use +till he should be able to purchase some for himself. Then he +sallied forth with his new fellow-labourer and old acquaintance, +and selecting a spot where the furze grew thickest he struck the +first blow in his adopted calling. His sight, like the wings in +"Rasselas," though useless to him for his grand purpose, sufficed +for this strait, and he found that when a little practice should +have hardened his palms against blistering he would be able to +work with ease.</p> + +<p>Day after day he rose with the sun, buckled on his leggings, and +went off to the rendezvous with Humphrey. His custom was to work +from four o'clock in the morning till noon; then, when the heat of +the day was at its highest, to go home and sleep for an hour or +two; afterwards coming out again and working till dusk at nine.</p> + +<p>This man from Paris was now so disguised by his leather +accoutrements, and by the goggles he was obliged to wear over his +eyes, that his closest friend might have passed by without +recognizing him. He was a brown spot in the midst of an expanse of +olive-green gorse, and nothing more. Though frequently depressed +in spirit when not actually at work, owing to thoughts of +Eustacia's position and his mother's estrangement, when in the +full swing of labour he was cheerfully disposed and calm.</p> + +<p>His daily life was of a curious microscopic sort, his whole world +being limited to a circuit of a few feet from his person. His +familiars were creeping and winged things, and they seemed to +enroll him in their band. Bees hummed around his ears with an +intimate air, and tugged at the heath and furze-flowers at his +side in such numbers as to weigh them down to the sod. The strange +amber-coloured butterflies which Egdon produced, and which were +never seen elsewhere, quivered in the breath of his lips, alighted +upon his bowed back, and sported with the glittering point of his +hook as he flourished it up and down. Tribes of emerald-green +grasshoppers leaped over his feet, falling awkwardly on their +backs, heads, or hips, like unskilful acrobats, as chance might +rule; or engaged themselves in noisy flirtations under the +fern-fronds with silent ones of homely hue. Huge flies, ignorant +of larders and wire-netting, and quite in a savage state, buzzed +about him without knowing that he was a man. In and out of the +fern-dells snakes glided in their most brilliant blue and yellow +guise, it being the season immediately following the shedding of +their old skins, when their colours are brightest. Litters of +young rabbits came out from their forms to sun themselves upon +hillocks, the hot beams blazing through the delicate tissue of +each thin-fleshed ear, and firing it to a blood-red transparency +in which the veins could be seen. None of them feared him.</p> + +<p>The monotony of his occupation soothed him, and was in itself a +pleasure. A forced limitation of effort offered a justification of +homely courses to an unambitious man, whose conscience would +hardly have allowed him to remain in such obscurity while his +powers were unimpeded. Hence Yeobright sometimes sang to himself, +and when obliged to accompany Humphrey in search of brambles for +faggot-bonds he would amuse his companion with sketches of +Parisian life and character, and so while away the time.</p> + +<p>On one of these warm afternoons Eustacia walked out alone in the +direction of Yeobright's place of work. He was busily chopping +away at the furze, a long row of faggots which stretched downward +from his position representing the labour of the day. He did not +observe her approach, and she stood close to him, and heard his +undercurrent of song. It shocked her. To see him there, a +poor afflicted man, earning money by the sweat of his brow, +had at first moved her to tears; but to hear him sing and +not at all rebel against an occupation which, however +satisfactory to himself, was degrading to her, as an educated +lady-wife, wounded her through. Unconscious of her presence, +he still went on singing:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind2">"Le point du jour</span><br /> +À nos bosquets rend toute leur parure;<br /> +<span class="ind2"> Flore est plus belle à son retour;</span><br /> +<span class="ind2"> L'oiseau reprend doux chant d'amour;</span><br /> +<span class="ind2"> Tout célèbre dans la nature</span><br /> +<span class="ind4">Le point du jour.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="ind2">"Le point du jour</span><br /> +Cause parfois, cause douleur extrême;<br /> +<span class="ind2"> Que l'espace des nuits est court</span><br /> +<span class="ind2"> Pour le berger brûlant d'amour,</span><br /> +<span class="ind2"> Forcé de quitter ce qu'il aime</span><br /> +<span class="ind4">Au point du jour!"</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>It was bitterly plain to Eustacia that he did not care much about +social failure; and the proud fair woman bowed her head and wept +in sick despair at thought of the blasting effect upon her own +life of that mood and condition in him. Then she came forward.</p> + +<p>"I would starve rather than do it!" she exclaimed vehemently. "And +you can sing! I will go and live with my grandfather again!"</p> + +<p>"Eustacia! I did not see you, though I noticed something moving," +he said gently. He came forward, pulled off his huge leather +glove, and took her hand. "Why do you speak in such a strange way? +It is only a little old song which struck my fancy when I was in +Paris, and now just applies to my life with you. Has your love for +me all died, then, because my appearance is no longer that of a +fine gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"Dearest, you must not question me unpleasantly, or it may make me +not love you."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe it possible that I would run the risk of doing +that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you follow out your own ideas, and won't give in to mine +when I wish you to leave off this shameful labour. Is there +anything you dislike in me that you act so contrarily to my +wishes? I am your wife, and why will you not listen? Yes, I am +your wife indeed!"</p> + +<p>"I know what that tone means."</p> + +<p>"What tone?"</p> + +<p>"The tone in which you said, 'Your wife indeed.' It meant, 'Your +wife, worse luck.'"</p> + +<p>"It is hard in you to probe me with that remark. A woman may have +reason, though she is not without heart, and if I felt 'worse +luck,' it was no ignoble feeling—it was only too natural. There, +you see that at any rate I do not attempt untruths. Do you +remember how, before we were married, I warned you that I had not +good wifely qualities?"</p> + +<p>"You mock me to say that now. On that point at least the only +noble course would be to hold your tongue, for you are still queen +of me, Eustacia, though I may no longer be king of you."</p> + +<p>"You are my husband. Does not that content you?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless you are my wife without regret."</p> + +<p>"I cannot answer you. I remember saying that I should be a serious +matter on your hands."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw that."</p> + +<p>"Then you were too quick to see! No true lover would have seen any +such thing; you are too severe upon me, Clym—I don't like your +speaking so at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, I married you in spite of it, and don't regret doing so. +How cold you seem this afternoon! and yet I used to think there +never was a warmer heart than yours."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I fear we are cooling—I see it as well as you," she sighed +mournfully. "And how madly we loved two months ago! You were never +tired of contemplating me, nor I of contemplating you. Who could +have thought then that by this time my eyes would not seem so very +bright to yours, nor your lips so very sweet to mine? Two +months—is it possible? Yes, 'tis too true!"</p> + +<p>"You sigh, dear, as if you were sorry for it; and that's a hopeful +sign."</p> + +<p>"No. I don't sigh for that. There are other things for me to sigh +for, or any other woman in my place."</p> + +<p>"That your chances in life are ruined by marrying in haste an +unfortunate man?"</p> + +<p>"Why will you force me, Clym, to say bitter things? I deserve pity +as much as you. As much?—I think I deserve it more. For you can +sing! It would be a strange hour which should catch me singing +under such a cloud as this! Believe me, sweet, I could weep to a +degree that would astonish and confound such an elastic mind as +yours. Even had you felt careless about your own affliction, you +might have refrained from singing out of sheer pity for mine. God! +if I were a man in such a position I would curse rather than +sing."</p> + +<p>Yeobright placed his hand upon her arm. "Now, don't you suppose, +my inexperienced girl, that I cannot rebel, in high Promethean +fashion, against the gods and fate as well as you. I have felt +more steam and smoke of that sort than you have ever heard of. But +the more I see of life the more do I perceive that there is +nothing particularly great in its greatest walks, and therefore +nothing particularly small in mine of furze-cutting. If I feel +that the greatest blessings vouchsafed to us are not very +valuable, how can I feel it to be any great hardship when they are +taken away? So I sing to pass the time. Have you indeed lost all +tenderness for me, that you begrudge me a few cheerful moments?"</p> + +<p>"I have still some tenderness left for you."</p> + +<p>"Your words have no longer their old flavour. And so love dies +with good fortune!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot listen to this, Clym—it will end bitterly," she said in +a broken voice. "I will go home."</p> + + +<p><a name="4-3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III</h3> +<h3>She Goes Out to Battle against Depression<br /> </h3> + + +<p>A few days later, before the month of August had expired, Eustacia +and Yeobright sat together at their early dinner. Eustacia's manner +had become of late almost apathetic. There was a forlorn look +about her beautiful eyes which, whether she deserved it or +not, would have excited pity in the breast of anyone who had +known her during the full flush of her love for Clym. The feelings +of husband and wife varied, in some measure, inversely with their +positions. Clym, the afflicted man, was cheerful; and he even +tried to comfort her, who had never felt a moment of physical +suffering in her whole life.</p> + +<p>"Come, brighten up, dearest; we shall be all right again. Some day +perhaps I shall see as well as ever. And I solemnly promise that +I'll leave off cutting furze as soon as I have the power to do +anything better. You cannot seriously wish me to stay idling at +home all day?"</p> + +<p>"But it is so dreadful—a furze-cutter! and you a man who have +lived about the world, and speak French, and German, and who are +fit for what is so much better than this."</p> + +<p>"I suppose when you first saw me and heard about me I was wrapped +in a sort of golden halo to your eyes—a man who knew glorious +things, and had mixed in brilliant scenes—in short, an adorable, +delightful, distracting hero?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, sobbing.</p> + +<p>"And now I am a poor fellow in brown leather."</p> + +<p>"Don't taunt me. But enough of this. I will not be depressed any +more. I am going from home this afternoon, unless you greatly +object. There is to be a village picnic—a gipsying, they call +it—at East Egdon, and I shall go."</p> + +<p>"To dance?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? You can sing."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, as you will. Must I come to fetch you?"</p> + +<p>"If you return soon enough from your work. But do not +inconvenience yourself about it. I know the way home, and the +heath has no terror for me."</p> + +<p>"And can you cling to gaiety so eagerly as to walk all the way to +a village festival in search of it?"</p> + +<p>"Now, you don't like my going alone! Clym, you are not jealous?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I would come with you if it could give you any pleasure; +though, as things stand, perhaps you have too much of me already. +Still, I somehow wish that you did not want to go. Yes, perhaps I +am jealous; and who could be jealous with more reason than I, a +half-blind man, over such a woman as you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't think like it. Let me go, and don't take all my spirits +away!"</p> + +<p>"I would rather lose all my own, my sweet wife. Go and do whatever +you like. Who can forbid your indulgence in any whim? You have all +my heart yet, I believe; and because you bear with me, who am in +truth a drag upon you, I owe you thanks. Yes, go alone and shine. +As for me, I will stick to my doom. At that kind of meeting people +would shun me. My hook and gloves are like the St. Lazarus rattle +of the leper, warning the world to get out of the way of a sight +that would sadden them." He kissed her, put on his leggings, and +went out.</p> + +<p>When he was gone she rested her head upon her hands and said to +herself, "Two wasted lives—his and mine. And I am come to this! +Will it drive me out of my mind?"</p> + +<p>She cast about for any possible course which offered the least +improvement on the existing state of things, and could find none. +She imagined how all those Budmouth ones who should learn what had +become of her would say, "Look at the girl for whom nobody was +good enough!" To Eustacia the situation seemed such a mockery of +her hopes that death appeared the only door of relief if the +satire of Heaven should go much further.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she aroused herself and exclaimed, "But I'll shake it +off. Yes, I <i>will</i> shake it off! No one shall know my suffering. +I'll be bitterly merry, and ironically gay, and I'll laugh in +derision. And I'll begin by going to this dance on the green."</p> + +<p>She ascended to her bedroom and dressed herself with scrupulous +care. To an onlooker her beauty would have made her feelings +almost seem reasonable. The gloomy corner into which accident as +much as indiscretion had brought this woman might have led even a +moderate partisan to feel that she had cogent reasons for asking +the Supreme Power by what right a being of such exquisite finish +had been placed in circumstances calculated to make of her charms +a curse rather than a blessing.</p> + +<p>It was five in the afternoon when she came out from the house +ready for her walk. There was material enough in the picture for +twenty new conquests. The rebellious sadness that was rather too +apparent when she sat indoors without a bonnet was cloaked and +softened by her outdoor attire, which always had a sort of +nebulousness about it, devoid of harsh edges anywhere; so that her +face looked from its environment as from a cloud, with no +noticeable lines of demarcation between flesh and clothes. The +heat of the day had scarcely declined as yet, and she went along +the sunny hills at a leisurely pace, there being ample time for +her idle expedition. Tall ferns buried her in their leafage +whenever her path lay through them, which now formed miniature +forests, though not one stem of them would remain to bud the next +year.</p> + +<p>The site chosen for the village festivity was one of the lawn-like +oases which were occasionally, yet not often, met with on the +plateaux of the heath district. The brakes of furze and fern +terminated abruptly round the margin, and the grass was unbroken. +A green cattle-track skirted the spot, without, however, emerging +from the screen of fern, and this path Eustacia followed, in order +to reconnoitre the group before joining it. The lusty notes of the +East Egdon band had directed her unerringly, and she now beheld +the musicians themselves, sitting in a blue waggon with red wheels +scrubbed as bright as new, and arched with sticks, to which boughs +and flowers were tied. In front of this was the grand central +dance of fifteen or twenty couples, flanked by minor dances of +inferior individuals whose gyrations were not always in strict +keeping with the tune.</p> + +<p>The young men wore blue and white rosettes, and with a flush on +their faces footed it to the girls, who, with the excitement and +the exercise, blushed deeper than the pink of their numerous +ribbons. Fair ones with long curls, fair ones with short curls, +fair ones with love-locks, fair ones with braids, flew round and +round; and a beholder might well have wondered how such a +prepossessing set of young women of like size, age, and +disposition, could have been collected together where there were +only one or two villages to choose from. In the background was one +happy man dancing by himself, with closed eyes, totally oblivious +of all the rest. A fire was burning under a pollard thorn a few +paces off, over which three kettles hung in a row. Hard by was a +table where elderly dames prepared tea, but Eustacia looked among +them in vain for the cattle-dealer's wife who had suggested that +she should come, and had promised to obtain a courteous welcome +for her.</p> + +<p>This unexpected absence of the only local resident whom Eustacia +knew considerably damaged her scheme for an afternoon of reckless +gaiety. Joining in became a matter of difficulty, notwithstanding +that, were she to advance, cheerful dames would come forward with +cups of tea and make much of her as a stranger of superior grace +and knowledge to themselves. Having watched the company through +the figures of two dances, she decided to walk a little further, +to a cottage where she might get some refreshment, and then return +homeward in the shady time of evening.</p> + +<p>This she did; and by the time that she retraced her steps towards +the scene of the gipsying, which it was necessary to repass on her +way to Alderworth, the sun was going down. The air was now so +still that she could hear the band afar off, and it seemed to be +playing with more spirit, if that were possible, than when she had +come away. On reaching the hill the sun had quite disappeared; but +this made little difference either to Eustacia or to the +revellers, for a round yellow moon was rising before her, though +its rays had not yet outmastered those from the west. The dance +was going on just the same, but strangers had arrived and formed a +ring around the figure, so that Eustacia could stand among these +without a chance of being recognized.</p> + +<p>A whole village-full of sensuous emotion, scattered abroad all the +year long, surged here in a focus for an hour. The forty hearts of +those waving couples were beating as they had not done since, +twelve months before, they had come together in similar jollity. +For the time paganism was revived in their hearts, the pride of +life was all in all, and they adored none other than themselves.</p> + +<p>How many of those impassioned but temporary embraces were destined +to become perpetual was possibly the wonder of some of those who +indulged in them, as well as of Eustacia who looked on. She began +to envy those pirouetters, to hunger for the hope and happiness +which the fascination of the dance seemed to engender within them. +Desperately fond of dancing herself, one of Eustacia's +expectations of Paris had been the opportunity it might afford her +of indulgence in this favourite pastime. Unhappily, that +expectation was now extinct within her for ever.</p> + +<p>Whilst she abstractedly watched them spinning and fluctuating in +the increasing moonlight she suddenly heard her name whispered by +a voice over her shoulder. Turning in surprise, she beheld at her +elbow one whose presence instantly caused her to flush to the +temples.</p> + +<p>It was Wildeve. Till this moment he had not met her eye since the +morning of his marriage, when she had been loitering in the +church, and had startled him by lifting her veil and coming +forward to sign the register as witness. Yet why the sight of him +should have instigated that sudden rush of blood she could not +tell.</p> + +<p>Before she could speak he whispered, "Do you like dancing as much +as ever?"</p> + +<p>"I think I do," she replied in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Will you dance with me?"</p> + +<p>"It would be a great change for me; but will it not seem strange?"</p> + +<p>"What strangeness can there be in relations dancing together?"</p> + +<p>"Ah—yes, relations. Perhaps none."</p> + +<p>"Still, if you don't like to be seen, pull down your veil; though +there is not much risk of being known by this light. Lots of +strangers are here."</p> + +<p>She did as he suggested; and the act was a tacit acknowledgment +that she accepted his offer.</p> + +<p>Wildeve gave her his arm and took her down on the outside of the +ring to the bottom of the dance, which they entered. In two +minutes more they were involved in the figure and began working +their way upwards to the top. Till they had advanced halfway +thither Eustacia wished more than once that she had not yielded to +his request; from the middle to the top she felt that, since she +had come out to seek pleasure, she was only doing a natural thing +to obtain it. Fairly launched into the ceaseless glides and whirls +which their new position as top couple opened up to them, +Eustacia's pulses began to move too quickly for long rumination of +any kind.</p> + +<p>Through the length of five-and-twenty couples they threaded their +giddy way, and a new vitality entered her form. The pale ray of +evening lent a fascination to the experience. There is a certain +degree and tone of light which tends to disturb the equilibrium of +the senses, and to promote dangerously the tenderer moods; added +to movement, it drives the emotions to rankness, the reason +becoming sleepy and unperceiving in inverse proportion; and this +light fell now upon these two from the disc of the moon. All the +dancing girls felt the symptoms, but Eustacia most of all. The +grass under their feet became trodden away, and the hard beaten +surface of the sod, when viewed aslant towards the moonlight, +shone like a polished table. The air became quite still, the flag +above the waggon which held the musicians clung to the pole, and +the players appeared only in outline against the sky; except when +the circular mouths of the trombone, ophicleide, and French horn +gleamed out like huge eyes from the shade of their figures. The +pretty dresses of the maids lost their subtler day colours and +showed more or less of a misty white. Eustacia floated round and +round on Wildeve's arm, her face rapt and statuesque; her soul had +passed away from and forgotten her features, which were left empty +and quiescent, as they always are when feeling goes beyond their +register.</p> + +<p>How near she was to Wildeve! it was terrible to think of. She +could feel his breathing, and he, of course, could feel hers. How +badly she had treated him! yet, here they were treading one +measure. The enchantment of the dance surprised her. A clear line +of difference divided like a tangible fence her experience within +this maze of motion from her experience without it. Her beginning +to dance had been like a change of atmosphere; outside, she had +been steeped in arctic frigidity by comparison with the tropical +sensations here. She had entered the dance from the troubled hours +of her late life as one might enter a brilliant chamber after a +night walk in a wood. Wildeve by himself would have been merely an +agitation; Wildeve added to the dance, and the moonlight, and the +secrecy, began to be a delight. Whether his personality supplied +the greater part of this sweetly compounded feeling, or whether +the dance and the scene weighed the more therein, was a nice point +upon which Eustacia herself was entirely in a cloud.</p> + +<p>People began to say "Who are they?" but no invidious inquiries +were made. Had Eustacia mingled with the other girls in their +ordinary daily walks the case would have been different: here she +was not inconvenienced by excessive inspection, for all were +wrought to their brightest grace by the occasion. Like the planet +Mercury surrounded by the lustre of sunset, her permanent +brilliancy passed without much notice in the temporary glory of +the situation.</p> + +<p>As for Wildeve, his feelings are easy to guess. Obstacles were a +ripening sun to his love, and he was at this moment in a delirium +of exquisite misery. To clasp as his for five minutes what was +another man's through all the rest of the year was a kind of thing +he of all men could appreciate. He had long since begun to sigh +again for Eustacia; indeed, it may be asserted that signing the +marriage register with Thomasin was the natural signal to his +heart to return to its first quarters, and that the extra +complication of Eustacia's marriage was the one addition required +to make that return compulsory.</p> + +<p>Thus, for different reasons, what was to the rest an exhilarating +movement was to these two a riding upon the whirlwind. The dance +had come like an irresistible attack upon whatever sense of social +order there was in their minds, to drive them back into old paths +which were now doubly irregular. Through three dances in +succession they spun their way; and then, fatigued with the +incessant motion, Eustacia turned to quit the circle in which she +had already remained too long. Wildeve led her to a grassy mound a +few yards distant, where she sat down, her partner standing beside +her. From the time that he addressed her at the beginning of the +dance till now they had not exchanged a word.</p> + +<p>"The dance and the walking have tired you?" he said tenderly.</p> + +<p>"No; not greatly."</p> + +<p>"It is strange that we should have met here of all places, after +missing each other so long."</p> + +<p>"We have missed because we tried to miss, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But you began that proceeding—by breaking a promise."</p> + +<p>"It is scarcely worth while to talk of that now. We have formed +other ties since then—you no less than I."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear that your husband is ill."</p> + +<p>"He is not ill—only incapacitated."</p> + +<p>"Yes: that is what I mean. I sincerely sympathize with you in your +trouble. Fate has treated you cruelly."</p> + +<p>She was silent awhile. "Have you heard that he has chosen to work +as a furze-cutter?" she said in a low, mournful voice.</p> + +<p>"It has been mentioned to me," answered Wildeve hesitatingly. "But +I hardly believed it."</p> + +<p>"It is true. What do you think of me as a furze-cutter's wife?"</p> + +<p>"I think the same as ever of you, Eustacia. Nothing of that sort +can degrade you: you ennoble the occupation of your husband."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could feel it."</p> + +<p>"Is there any chance of Mr. Yeobright getting better?"</p> + +<p>"He thinks so. I doubt it."</p> + +<p>"I was quite surprised to hear that he had taken a cottage. I +thought, in common with other people, that he would have taken you +off to a home in Paris immediately after you had married him. +'What a gay, bright future she has before her!' I thought. He +will, I suppose, return there with you, if his sight gets strong +again?"</p> + +<p>Observing that she did not reply he regarded her more closely. She +was almost weeping. Images of a future never to be enjoyed, the +revived sense of her bitter disappointment, the picture of the +neighbours' suspended ridicule which was raised by Wildeve's +words, had been too much for proud Eustacia's equanimity.</p> + +<p>Wildeve could hardly control his own too forward feelings when he +saw her silent perturbation. But he affected not to notice this, +and she soon recovered her calmness.</p> + +<p>"You do not intend to walk home by yourself?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"O yes," said Eustacia. "What could hurt me on this heath, who +have nothing?"</p> + +<p>"By diverging a little I can make my way home the same as yours. I +shall be glad to keep you company as far as Throope Corner." +Seeing that Eustacia sat on in hesitation he added, "Perhaps you +think it unwise to be seen in the same road with me after the +events of last summer?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I think no such thing," she said haughtily. "I shall +accept whose company I choose, for all that may be said by the +miserable inhabitants of Egdon."</p> + +<p>"Then let us walk on—if you are ready. Our nearest way is towards +that holly-bush with the dark shadow that you see down there."</p> + +<p>Eustacia arose, and walked beside him in the direction signified, +brushing her way over the damping heath and fern, and followed by +the strains of the merrymakers, who still kept up the dance. The +moon had now waxed bright and silvery, but the heath was proof +against such illumination, and there was to be observed the +striking scene of a dark, rayless tract of country under an +atmosphere charged from its zenith to its extremities with whitest +light. To an eye above them their two faces would have appeared +amid the expanse like two pearls on a table of ebony.</p> + +<p>On this account the irregularities of the path were not visible, +and Wildeve occasionally stumbled; whilst Eustacia found it +necessary to perform some graceful feats of balancing whenever a +small tuft of heather or root of furze protruded itself through +the grass of the narrow track and entangled her feet. At these +junctures in her progress a hand was invariably stretched forward +to steady her, holding her firmly until smooth ground was again +reached, when the hand was again withdrawn to a respectful +distance.</p> + +<p>They performed the journey for the most part in silence, and drew +near to Throope Corner, a few hundred yards from which a short +path branched away to Eustacia's house. By degrees they discerned +coming towards them a pair of human figures, apparently of the +male sex.</p> + +<p>When they came a little nearer Eustacia broke the silence by +saying, "One of those men is my husband. He promised to come to +meet me."</p> + +<p>"And the other is my greatest enemy," said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"It looks like Diggory Venn."</p> + +<p>"That is the man."</p> + +<p>"It is an awkward meeting," said she; "but such is my fortune. He +knows too much about me, unless he could know more, and so prove +to himself that what he now knows counts for nothing. Well, let it +be: you must deliver me up to them."</p> + +<p>"You will think twice before you direct me to do that. Here is a +man who has not forgotten an item in our meetings at +Rainbarrow: he is in company with your husband. Which of them, +seeing us together here, will believe that our meeting and dancing +at the gipsy-party was by chance?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," she whispered gloomily. "Leave me before they come +up."</p> + +<p>Wildeve bade her a tender farewell, and plunged across the fern +and furze, Eustacia slowly walking on. In two or three minutes she +met her husband and his companion.</p> + +<p>"My journey ends here for tonight, reddleman," said Yeobright as +soon as he perceived her. "I turn back with this lady. Good +night."</p> + +<p>"Good night, Mr. Yeobright," said Venn. "I hope to see you better +soon."</p> + +<p>The moonlight shone directly upon Venn's face as he spoke, and +revealed all its lines to Eustacia. He was looking suspiciously at +her. That Venn's keen eye had discerned what Yeobright's feeble +vision had not—a man in the act of withdrawing from Eustacia's +side—was within the limits of the probable.</p> + +<p>If Eustacia had been able to follow the reddleman she would soon +have found striking confirmation of her thought. No sooner had +Clym given her his arm and led her off the scene than the +reddleman turned back from the beaten track towards East Egdon, +whither he had been strolling merely to accompany Clym in his +walk, Diggory's van being again in the neighbourhood. Stretching +out his long legs, he crossed the pathless portion of the heath +somewhat in the direction which Wildeve had taken. Only a man +accustomed to nocturnal rambles could at this hour have descended +those shaggy slopes with Venn's velocity without falling headlong +into a pit, or snapping off his leg by jamming his foot into some +rabbit burrow. But Venn went on without much inconvenience to +himself, and the course of his scamper was towards the Quiet Woman +Inn. This place he reached in about half an hour, and he was well +aware that no person who had been near Throope Corner when he +started could have got down here before him.</p> + +<p>The lonely inn was not yet closed, though scarcely an individual +was there, the business done being chiefly with travellers who +passed the inn on long journeys, and these had now gone on their +way. Venn went to the public room, called for a mug of ale, and +inquired of the maid in an indifferent tone if Mr. Wildeve was at +home.</p> + +<p>Thomasin sat in an inner room and heard Venn's voice. When +customers were present she seldom showed herself, owing to her +inherent dislike for the business; but perceiving that no one else +was there tonight she came out.</p> + +<p>"He is not at home yet, Diggory," she said pleasantly. "But I +expected him sooner. He has been to East Egdon to buy a horse."</p> + +<p>"Did he wear a light wideawake?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then I saw him at Throope Corner, leading one home," said Venn +drily. "A beauty, with a white face and a mane as black as night. +He will soon be here, no doubt." Rising and looking for a moment +at the pure, sweet face of Thomasin, over which a shadow of +sadness had passed since the time when he had last seen her, he +ventured to add, "Mr. Wildeve seems to be often away at this +time."</p> + +<p>"O yes," cried Thomasin in what was intended to be a tone of +gaiety. "Husbands will play the truant, you know. I wish you could +tell me of some secret plan that would help me to keep him home at +my will in the evenings."</p> + +<p>"I will consider if I know of one," replied Venn in that same +light tone which meant no lightness. And then he bowed in a manner +of his own invention and moved to go. Thomasin offered him her +hand; and without a sigh, though with food for many, the reddleman +went out.</p> + +<p>When Wildeve returned, a quarter of an hour later, Thomasin said +simply, and in the abashed manner usual with her now, "Where is +the horse, Damon?"</p> + +<p>"O, I have not bought it, after all. The man asks too much."</p> + +<p>"But somebody saw you at Throope Corner leading it home—a beauty, +with a white face and a mane as black as night."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Wildeve, fixing his eyes upon her; "who told you that?"</p> + +<p>"Venn the reddleman."</p> + +<p>The expression of Wildeve's face became curiously condensed. "That +is a mistake—it must have been some one else," he said slowly and +testily, for he perceived that Venn's countermoves had begun +again.</p> + + +<p><a name="4-4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<h3>Rough Coercion Is Employed<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Those words of Thomasin, which seemed so little, but meant so +much, remained in the ears of Diggory Venn: "Help me to keep him +home in the evenings."</p> + +<p>On this occasion Venn had arrived on Egdon Heath only to cross to +the other side: he had no further connection with the interests of +the Yeobright family, and he had a business of his own to attend +to. Yet he suddenly began to feel himself drifting into the old +track of manoeuvring on Thomasin's account.</p> + +<p>He sat in his van and considered. From Thomasin's words and manner +he had plainly gathered that Wildeve neglected her. For whom could +he neglect her if not for Eustacia? Yet it was scarcely credible +that things had come to such a head as to indicate that Eustacia +systematically encouraged him. Venn resolved to reconnoitre +somewhat carefully the lonely road which led along the vale from +Wildeve's dwelling to Clym's house at Alderworth.</p> + +<p>At this time, as had been seen, Wildeve was quite innocent of any +predetermined act of intrigue, and except at the dance on the +green he had not once met Eustacia since her marriage. But that +the spirit of intrigue was in him had been shown by a recent +romantic habit of his: a habit of going out after dark and +strolling towards Alderworth, there looking at the moon and stars, +looking at Eustacia's house, and walking back at leisure.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, when watching on the night after the festival, the +reddleman saw him ascend by the little path, lean over the front +gate of Clym's garden, sigh, and turn to go back again. It was +plain that Wildeve's intrigue was rather ideal than real. Venn +retreated before him down the hill to a place where the path was +merely a deep groove between the heather; here he mysteriously +bent over the ground for a few minutes, and retired. When Wildeve +came on to that spot his ankle was caught by something, and he +fell headlong.</p> + +<p>As soon as he had recovered the power of respiration he sat up and +listened. There was not a sound in the gloom beyond the spiritless +stir of the summer wind. Feeling about for the obstacle which had +flung him down, he discovered that two tufts of heath had been +tied together across the path, forming a loop, which to a +traveller was certain overthrow. Wildeve pulled off the string +that bound them, and went on with tolerable quickness. On reaching +home he found the cord to be of a reddish colour. It was just what +he had expected.</p> + +<p>Although his weaknesses were not specially those akin to physical +fear, the species of <i>coup-de-Jarnac</i> from one he knew too +well troubled the mind of Wildeve. But his movements were unaltered +thereby. A night or two later he again went along the vale to +Alderworth, taking the precaution of keeping out of any path. The +sense that he was watched, that craft was employed to circumvent +his errant tastes, added piquancy to a journey so entirely +sentimental, so long as the danger was of no fearful sort. He +imagined that Venn and Mrs. Yeobright were in league, and felt +that there was a certain legitimacy in combating such a coalition.</p> + +<p>The heath tonight appeared to be totally deserted: and Wildeve, +after looking over Eustacia's garden gate for some little time, +with a cigar in his mouth, was tempted by the fascination that +emotional smuggling had for his nature to advance towards the +window, which was not quite closed, the blind being only partly +drawn down. He could see into the room, and Eustacia was sitting +there alone. Wildeve contemplated her for a minute, and then +retreating into the heath beat the ferns lightly, whereupon moths +flew out alarmed. Securing one, he returned to the window, and +holding the moth to the chink, opened his hand. The moth made +towards the candle upon Eustacia's table, hovered round it two or +three times, and flew into the flame.</p> + +<p>Eustacia started up. This had been a well-known signal in old +times when Wildeve had used to come secretly wooing to Mistover. +She at once knew that Wildeve was outside, but before she could +consider what to do her husband came in from upstairs. Eustacia's +face burnt crimson at the unexpected collision of incidents, and +filled it with an animation that it too frequently lacked.</p> + +<p>"You have a very high colour, dearest," said Yeobright, when he +came close enough to see it. "Your appearance would be no worse if +it were always so."</p> + +<p>"I am warm," said Eustacia. "I think I will go into the air for a +few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Shall I go with you?"</p> + +<p>"O no. I am only going to the gate."</p> + +<p>She arose, but before she had time to get out of the room a loud +rapping began upon the front door.</p> + +<p>"I'll go—I'll go," said Eustacia in an unusually quick tone for +her; and she glanced eagerly towards the window whence the moth +had flown; but nothing appeared there.</p> + +<p>"You had better not at this time of the evening," he said. Clym +stepped before her into the passage, and Eustacia waited, her +somnolent manner covering her inner heat and agitation.</p> + +<p>She listened, and Clym opened the door. No words were uttered +outside, and presently he closed it and came back, saying, "Nobody +was there. I wonder what that could have meant?"</p> + +<p>He was left to wonder during the rest of the evening, for no +explanation offered itself, and Eustacia said nothing, the +additional fact that she knew of only adding more mystery to the +performance.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile a little drama had been acted outside which saved +Eustacia from all possibility of compromising herself that evening +at least. While Wildeve had been preparing his moth-signal +another person had come behind him up to the gate. This man, who +carried a gun in his hand, looked on for a moment at the other's +operation by the window, walked up to the house, knocked at the +door, and then vanished round the corner and over the hedge.</p> + +<p>"Damn him!" said Wildeve. "He has been watching me again."</p> + +<p>As his signal had been rendered futile by this uproarious rapping +Wildeve withdrew, passed out at the gate, and walked quickly down +the path without thinking of anything except getting away +unnoticed. Half-way down the hill the path ran near a knot of +stunted hollies, which in the general darkness of the scene stood +as the pupil in a black eye. When Wildeve reached this point a +report startled his ear, and a few spent gunshots fell among the +leaves around him.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that he himself was the cause of that gun's +discharge; and he rushed into the clump of hollies, beating the +bushes furiously with his stick; but nobody was there. This attack +was a more serious matter than the last, and it was some time +before Wildeve recovered his equanimity. A new and most unpleasant +system of menace had begun, and the intent appeared to be to do +him grievous bodily harm. Wildeve had looked upon Venn's first +attempt as a species of horse-play, which the reddleman had +indulged in for want of knowing better; but now the boundary line +was passed which divides the annoying from the perilous.</p> + +<p>Had Wildeve known how thoroughly in earnest Venn had become he +might have been still more alarmed. The reddleman had been almost +exasperated by the sight of Wildeve outside Clym's house, and he +was prepared to go to any lengths short of absolutely shooting +him, to terrify the young innkeeper out of his recalcitrant +impulses. The doubtful legitimacy of such rough coercion did not +disturb the mind of Venn. It troubles few such minds in such +cases, and sometimes this is not to be regretted. From the +impeachment of Strafford to Farmer Lynch's short way with the +scamps of Virginia there have been many triumphs of justice which +are mockeries of law.</p> + +<p>About half a mile below Clym's secluded dwelling lay a hamlet +where lived one of the two constables who preserved the peace in +the parish of Alderworth, and Wildeve went straight to the +constable's cottage. Almost the first thing that he saw on opening +the door was the constable's truncheon hanging to a nail, as if to +assure him that here were the means to his purpose. On inquiry, +however, of the constable's wife he learnt that the constable was +not at home. Wildeve said he would wait.</p> + +<p>The minutes ticked on, and the constable did not arrive. Wildeve +cooled down from his state of high indignation to a restless +dissatisfaction with himself, the scene, the constable's wife, and +the whole set of circumstances. He arose and left the house. +Altogether, the experience of that evening had had a cooling, not +to say a chilling, effect on misdirected tenderness, and Wildeve +was in no mood to ramble again to Alderworth after nightfall in +hope of a stray glance from Eustacia.</p> + +<p>Thus far the reddleman had been tolerably successful in his rude +contrivances for keeping down Wildeve's inclination to rove in the +evening. He had nipped in the bud the possible meeting between +Eustacia and her old lover this very night. But he had not +anticipated that the tendency of his action would be to divert +Wildeve's movement rather than to stop it. The gambling with the +guineas had not conduced to make him a welcome guest to Clym; but +to call upon his wife's relative was natural, and he was +determined to see Eustacia. It was necessary to choose some less +untoward hour than ten o'clock at night. "Since it is unsafe to go +in the evening," he said, "I'll go by day."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Venn had left the heath and gone to call upon Mrs. +Yeobright, with whom he had been on friendly terms since she had +learnt what a providential countermove he had made towards the +restitution of the family guineas. She wondered at the lateness of +his call, but had no objection to see him.</p> + +<p>He gave her a full account of Clym's affliction, and of the state +in which he was living; then, referring to Thomasin, touched +gently upon the apparent sadness of her days. "Now, ma'am, depend +upon it," he said, "you couldn't do a better thing for either of +'em than to make yourself at home in their houses, even if there +should be a little rebuff at first."</p> + +<p>"Both she and my son disobeyed me in marrying; therefore I have no +interest in their households. Their troubles are of their own +making." Mrs. Yeobright tried to speak severely; but the account +of her son's state had moved her more than she cared to show.</p> + +<p>"Your visits would make Wildeve walk straighter than he is +inclined to do, and might prevent unhappiness down the heath."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I saw something tonight out there which I didn't like at all. I +wish your son's house and Mr. Wildeve's were a hundred miles apart +instead of four or five."</p> + +<p>"Then there <i>was</i> an understanding between him and +Clym's wife when he made a fool of Thomasin!"</p> + +<p>"We'll hope there's no understanding now."</p> + +<p>"And our hope will probably be very vain. O Clym! O Thomasin!"</p> + +<p>"There's no harm done yet. In fact, I've persuaded Wildeve to mind +his own business."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"O, not by talking—by a plan of mine called the silent system."</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll succeed."</p> + +<p>"I shall if you help me by calling and making friends with your +son. You'll have a chance then of using your eyes."</p> + +<p>"Well, since it has come to this," said Mrs. Yeobright sadly, "I +will own to you, reddleman, that I thought of going. I should be +much happier if we were reconciled. The marriage is unalterable, +my life may be cut short, and I should wish to die in peace. He is +my only son; and since sons are made of such stuff I am not sorry +I have no other. As for Thomasin, I never expected much from her; +and she has not disappointed me. But I forgave her long ago; and I +forgive him now. I'll go."</p> + +<p>At this very time of the reddleman's conversation with Mrs. +Yeobright at Blooms-End another conversation on the same subject +was languidly proceeding at Alderworth.</p> + +<p>All the day Clym had borne himself as if his mind were too full of +its own matter to allow him to care about outward things, and his +words now showed what had occupied his thoughts. It was just after +the mysterious knocking that he began the theme. "Since I have +been away today, Eustacia, I have considered that something must +be done to heal up this ghastly breach between my dear mother and +myself. It troubles me."</p> + +<p>"What do you propose to do?" said Eustacia abstractedly, for she +could not clear away from her the excitement caused by Wildeve's +recent manoeuvre for an interview.</p> + +<p>"You seem to take a very mild interest in what I propose, little +or much," said Clym, with tolerable warmth.</p> + +<p>"You mistake me," she answered, reviving at his reproach. "I am +only thinking."</p> + +<p>"What of?"</p> + +<p>"Partly of that moth whose skeleton is getting burnt up in the +wick of the candle," she said slowly. "But you know I always take +an interest in what you say."</p> + +<p>"Very well, dear. Then I think I must go and call upon +her."… He went on with tender feeling: "It +is a thing I am not at all too +proud to do, and only a fear that I might irritate her has kept me +away so long. But I must do something. It is wrong in me to allow +this sort of thing to go on."</p> + +<p>"What have you to blame yourself about?"</p> + +<p>"She is getting old, and her life is lonely, and I am her only +son."</p> + +<p>"She has Thomasin."</p> + +<p>"Thomasin is not her daughter; and if she were that would not +excuse me. But this is beside the point. I have made up my mind to +go to her, and all I wish to ask you is whether you will do your +best to help me—that is, forget the past; and if she shows her +willingness to be reconciled, meet her half-way by welcoming her to +our house, or by accepting a welcome to hers?"</p> + +<p>At first Eustacia closed her lips as if she would rather do +anything on the whole globe than what he suggested. But the lines +of her mouth softened with thought, though not so far as they +might have softened; and she said, "I will put nothing in your +way; but after what has passed it is asking too much that I go +and make advances."</p> + +<p>"You never distinctly told me what did pass between you."</p> + +<p>"I could not do it then, nor can I now. Sometimes more bitterness +is sown in five minutes than can be got rid of in a whole life; +and that may be the case here." She paused a few moments, and +added, "If you had never returned to your native place, Clym, what +a blessing it would have been for you!… It has altered the +destinies of—"</p> + +<p>"Three people."</p> + +<p>"Five," Eustacia thought; but she kept that in.</p> + + +<p><a name="4-5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V</h3> +<h3>The Journey across the Heath<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Thursday, the thirty-first of August, was one of a series of days +during which snug houses were stifling, and when cool draughts +were treats; when cracks appeared in clayey gardens, and were +called "earthquakes" by apprehensive children; when loose spokes +were discovered in the wheels of carts and carriages; and when +stinging insects haunted the air, the earth, and every drop of +water that was to be found.</p> + +<p>In Mrs. Yeobright's garden large-leaved plants of a tender kind +flagged by ten o'clock in the morning; rhubarb bent downward at +eleven; and even stiff cabbages were limp by noon.</p> + +<p>It was about eleven o'clock on this day that Mrs. Yeobright +started across the heath towards her son's house, to do her best +in getting reconciled with him and Eustacia, in conformity with +her words to the reddleman. She had hoped to be well advanced in +her walk before the heat of the day was at its highest, but after +setting out she found that this was not to be done. The sun had +branded the whole heath with his mark, even the purple +heath-flowers having put on a brownness under the dry blazes of +the few preceding days. Every valley was filled with air like that +of a kiln, and the clean quartz sand of the winter water-courses, +which formed summer paths, had undergone a species of incineration +since the drought had set in.</p> + +<p>In cool, fresh weather Mrs. Yeobright would have found no +inconvenience in walking to Alderworth, but the present torrid +attack made the journey a heavy undertaking for a woman past +middle age; and at the end of the third mile she wished that she +had hired Fairway to drive her a portion at least of the distance. +But from the point at which she had arrived it was as easy to +reach Clym's house as to get home again. So she went on, the air +around her pulsating silently, and oppressing the earth with +lassitude. She looked at the sky overhead, and saw that the +sapphirine hue of the zenith in spring and early summer had been +replaced by a metallic violet.</p> + +<p>Occasionally she came to a spot where independent worlds of +ephemerons were passing their time in mad carousal, some in the +air, some on the hot ground and vegetation, some in the tepid and +stringy water of a nearly dried pool. All the shallower ponds had +decreased to a vaporous mud amid which the maggoty shapes of +innumerable obscure creatures could be indistinctly seen, heaving +and wallowing with enjoyment. Being a woman not disinclined to +philosophize she sometimes sat down under her umbrella to rest and +to watch their happiness, for a certain hopefulness as to the +result of her visit gave ease to her mind, and between important +thoughts left it free to dwell on any infinitesimal matter which +caught her eyes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright had never before been to her son's house, and its +exact position was unknown to her. She tried one ascending path +and another, and found that they led her astray. Retracing her +steps, she came again to an open level, where she perceived at a +distance a man at work. She went towards him and inquired the way.</p> + +<p>The labourer pointed out the direction, and added, "Do you see +that furze-cutter, ma'am, going up that footpath yond?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright strained her eyes, and at last said that she did +perceive him.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you follow him you can make no mistake. He's going to +the same place, ma'am."</p> + +<p>She followed the figure indicated. He appeared of a russet hue, +not more distinguishable from the scene around him than the green +caterpillar from the leaf it feeds on. His progress when actually +walking was more rapid than Mrs. Yeobright's; but she was enabled +to keep at an equable distance from him by his habit of stopping +whenever he came to a brake of brambles, where he paused awhile. +On coming in her turn to each of these spots she found half a +dozen long limp brambles which he had cut from the bush during his +halt and laid out straight beside the path. They were evidently +intended for furze-faggot bonds which he meant to collect on his +return.</p> + +<p>The silent being who thus occupied himself seemed to be of no more +account in life than an insect. He appeared as a mere parasite of +the heath, fretting its surface in his daily labour as a moth +frets a garment, entirely engrossed with its products, having no +knowledge of anything in the world but fern, furze, heath, +lichens, and moss.</p> + +<p>The furze-cutter was so absorbed in the business of his journey +that he never turned his head; and his leather-legged and +gauntleted form at length became to her as nothing more than a +moving handpost to show her the way. Suddenly she was attracted to +his individuality by observing peculiarities in his walk. It was a +gait she had seen somewhere before; and the gait revealed the man +to her, as the gait of Ahimaaz in the distant plain made him known +to the watchman of the king. "His walk is exactly as my husband's +used to be," she said; and then the thought burst upon her that +the furze-cutter was her son.</p> + +<p>She was scarcely able to familiarize herself with this strange +reality. She had been told that Clym was in the habit of cutting +furze, but she had supposed that he occupied himself with the +labour only at odd times, by way of useful pastime; yet she now +beheld him as a furze-cutter and nothing more—wearing the +regulation dress of the craft, and thinking the regulation +thoughts, to judge by his motions. Planning a dozen hasty schemes +for at once preserving him and Eustacia from this mode of life +she throbbingly followed the way, and saw him enter his own door.</p> + +<p>At one side of Clym's house was a knoll, and on the top of the +knoll a clump of fir trees so highly thrust up into the sky that +their foliage from a distance appeared as a black spot in the air +above the crown of the hill. On reaching this place Mrs. Yeobright +felt distressingly agitated, weary, and unwell. She ascended, and +sat down under their shade to recover herself, and to consider how +best to break the ground with Eustacia, so as not to irritate a +woman underneath whose apparent indolence lurked passions even +stronger and more active than her own.</p> + +<p>The trees beneath which she sat were singularly battered, rude, +and wild, and for a few minutes Mrs. Yeobright dismissed thoughts +of her own storm-broken and exhausted state to contemplate theirs. +Not a bough in the nine trees which composed the group but was +splintered, lopped, and distorted by the fierce weather that there +held them at its mercy whenever it prevailed. Some were blasted +and split as if by lightning, black stains as from fire marking +their sides, while the ground at their feet was strewn with dead +fir-needles and heaps of cones blown down in the gales of past +years. The place was called the Devil's Bellows, and it was only +necessary to come there on a March or November night to discover +the forcible reasons for that name. On the present heated +afternoon, when no perceptible wind was blowing, the trees kept up +a perpetual moan which one could hardly believe to be caused by +the air.</p> + +<p>Here she sat for twenty minutes or more ere she could summon +resolution to go down to the door, her courage being lowered to +zero by her physical lassitude. To any other person than a mother +it might have seemed a little humiliating that she, the elder of +the two women, should be the first to make advances. But Mrs. +Yeobright had well considered all that, and she only thought how +best to make her visit appear to Eustacia not abject but wise.</p> + +<p>From her elevated position the exhausted woman could perceive the +roof of the house below, and the garden and the whole enclosure of +the little domicile. And now, at the moment of rising, she saw a +second man approaching the gate. His manner was peculiar, +hesitating, and not that of a person come on business or by +invitation. He surveyed the house with interest, and then walked +round and scanned the outer boundary of the garden, as one might +have done had it been the birthplace of Shakespeare, the prison of +Mary Stuart, or the Château of Hougomont. After passing round +and again reaching the gate he went in. Mrs. Yeobright was vexed at +this, having reckoned on finding her son and his wife by +themselves; but a moment's thought showed her that the presence of +an acquaintance would take off the awkwardness of her first +appearance in the house, by confining the talk to general matters +until she had begun to feel comfortable with them. She came down +the hill to the gate, and looked into the hot garden.</p> + +<p>There lay the cat asleep on the bare gravel of the path, as if +beds, rugs, and carpets were unendurable. The leaves of the +hollyhocks hung like half-closed umbrellas, the sap almost +simmered in the stems, and foliage with a smooth surface glared +like metallic mirrors. A small apple tree, of the sort called +Ratheripe, grew just inside the gate, the only one which throve in +the garden, by reason of the lightness of the soil; and among the +fallen apples on the ground beneath were wasps rolling drunk with +the juice, or creeping about the little caves in each fruit which +they had eaten out before stupefied by its sweetness. By the door +lay Clym's furze-hook and the last handful of faggot-bonds she had +seen him gather; they had plainly been thrown down there as he +entered the house.</p> + + +<p><a name="4-6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI</h3> +<h3>A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Wildeve, as has been stated, was determined to visit Eustacia +boldly, by day, and on the easy terms of a relation, since the +reddleman had spied out and spoilt his walks to her by night. The +spell that she had thrown over him in the moonlight dance made it +impossible for a man having no strong puritanic force within him +to keep away altogether. He merely calculated on meeting her and +her husband in an ordinary manner, chatting a little while, and +leaving again. Every outward sign was to be conventional; but the +one great fact would be there to satisfy him: he would see her. He +did not even desire Clym's absence, since it was just possible +that Eustacia might resent any situation which could compromise +her dignity as a wife, whatever the state of her heart towards +him. Women were often so.</p> + +<p>He went accordingly; and it happened that the time of his arrival +coincided with that of Mrs. Yeobright's pause on the hill near the +house. When he had looked round the premises in the manner she had +noticed he went and knocked at the door. There was a few minutes' +interval, and then the key turned in the lock, the door opened, +and Eustacia herself confronted him.</p> + +<p>Nobody could have imagined from her bearing now that here stood +the woman who had joined with him in the impassioned dance of the +week before, unless indeed he could have penetrated below the +surface and gauged the real depth of that still stream.</p> + +<p>"I hope you reached home safely?" said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"O yes," she carelessly returned.</p> + +<p>"And were you not tired the next day? I feared you might be."</p> + +<p>"I was rather. You need not speak low—nobody will overhear us. +My small servant is gone on an errand to the village."</p> + +<p>"Then Clym is not at home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is."</p> + +<p>"O! I thought that perhaps you had locked the door because you +were alone and were afraid of tramps."</p> + +<p>"No—here is my husband."</p> + +<p>They had been standing in the entry. Closing the front door and +turning the key, as before, she threw open the door of the +adjoining room and asked him to walk in. Wildeve entered, the room +appearing to be empty; but as soon as he had advanced a few steps +he started. On the hearth rug lay Clym asleep. Beside him were the +leggings, thick boots, leather gloves, and sleeve-waistcoat in +which he worked.</p> + +<p>"You may go in; you will not disturb him," she said, following +behind. "My reason for fastening the door is that he may not be +intruded upon by any chance comer while lying here, if I should be +in the garden or upstairs."</p> + +<p>"Why is he sleeping there?" said Wildeve in low tones.</p> + +<p>"He is very weary. He went out at half-past four this morning, and +has been working ever since. He cuts furze because it is the only +thing he can do that does not put any strain upon his poor eyes." +The contrast between the sleeper's appearance and Wildeve's at +this moment was painfully apparent to Eustacia, Wildeve being +elegantly dressed in a new summer suit and light hat; and she +continued: "Ah! you don't know how differently he appeared when I +first met him, though it is such a little while ago. His hands +were as white and soft as mine; and look at them now, how rough +and brown they are! His complexion is by nature fair, and that +rusty look he has now, all of a colour with his leather clothes, +is caused by the burning of the sun."</p> + +<p>"Why does he go out at all?" Wildeve whispered.</p> + +<p>"Because he hates to be idle; though what he earns doesn't add +much to our exchequer. However, he says that when people are +living upon their capital they must keep down current expenses by +turning a penny where they can."</p> + +<p>"The fates have not been kind to you, Eustacia Yeobright."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to thank them for."</p> + +<p>"Nor has he—except for their one great gift to him."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>Wildeve looked her in the eyes.</p> + +<p>Eustacia blushed for the first time that day. "Well, I am a +questionable gift," she said quietly. "I thought you meant the +gift of content—which he has, and I have not."</p> + +<p>"I can understand content in such a case—though how the outward +situation can attract him puzzles me."</p> + +<p>"That's because you don't know him. He's an enthusiast about +ideas, and careless about outward things. He often reminds me of +the Apostle Paul."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear that he's so grand in character as that."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but the worst of it is that though Paul was excellent as a +man in the Bible he would hardly have done in real life."</p> + +<p>Their voices had instinctively dropped lower, though at first they +had taken no particular care to avoid awakening Clym. "Well, if +that means that your marriage is a misfortune to you, you know who +is to blame," said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"The marriage is no misfortune in itself," she retorted with some +little petulance. "It is simply the accident which has happened +since that has been the cause of my ruin. I have certainly got +thistles for figs in a worldly sense, but how could I tell what +time would bring forth?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, Eustacia, I think it is a judgment upon you. You +rightly belonged to me, you know; and I had no idea of losing +you."</p> + +<p>"No, it was not my fault! Two could not belong to you; and +remember that, before I was aware, you turned aside to another +woman. It was cruel levity in you to do that. I never dreamt of +playing such a game on my side till you began it on yours."</p> + +<p>"I meant nothing by it," replied Wildeve. "It was a mere +interlude. Men are given to the trick of having a passing fancy +for somebody else in the midst of a permanent love, which +reasserts itself afterwards just as before. On account of your +rebellious manner to me I was tempted to go further than I should +have done; and when you still would keep playing the same +tantalizing part I went further still, and married her." Turning +and looking again at the unconscious form of Clym, he murmured, "I +am afraid that you don't value your prize, Clym… He ought to +be happier than I in one thing at least. He may know what it is to +come down in the world, and to be afflicted with a great personal +calamity; but he probably doesn't know what it is to lose the +woman he loved."</p> + +<p>"He is not ungrateful for winning her," whispered Eustacia, "and +in that respect he is a good man. Many women would go far for such +a husband. But do I desire unreasonably much in wanting what is +called life—music, poetry, passion, war, and all the beating and +pulsing that are going on in the great arteries of the world? That +was the shape of my youthful dream; but I did not get it. Yet I +thought I saw the way to it in my Clym."</p> + +<p>"And you only married him on that account?"</p> + +<p>"There you mistake me. I married him because I loved him, but I +won't say that I didn't love him partly because I thought I saw a +promise of that life in him."</p> + +<p>"You have dropped into your old mournful key."</p> + +<p>"But I am not going to be depressed," she cried perversely. "I +began a new system by going to that dance, and I mean to stick to +it. Clym can sing merrily; why should not I?"</p> + +<p>Wildeve looked thoughtfully at her. "It is easier to say you will +sing than to do it; though if I could I would encourage you in +your attempt. But as life means nothing to me, without one thing +which is now impossible, you will forgive me for not being able to +encourage you."</p> + +<p>"Damon, what is the matter with you, that you speak like that?" +she asked, raising her deep shady eyes to his.</p> + +<p>"That's a thing I shall never tell plainly; and perhaps if I try +to tell you in riddles you will not care to guess them."</p> + +<p>Eustacia remained silent for a minute, and she said, "We are in a +strange relationship today. You mince matters to an uncommon +nicety. You mean, Damon, that you still love me. Well, that gives +me sorrow, for I am not made so entirely happy by my marriage that +I am willing to spurn you for the information, as I ought to do. +But we have said too much about this. Do you mean to wait until my +husband is awake?"</p> + +<p>"I thought to speak to him; but it is unnecessary. Eustacia, if I +offend you by not forgetting you, you are right to mention it; but +do not talk of spurning."</p> + +<p>She did not reply, and they stood looking musingly at Clym as he +slept on in that profound sleep which is the result of physical +labour carried on in circumstances that wake no nervous fear.</p> + +<p>"God, how I envy him that sweet sleep!" said Wildeve. "I have not +slept like that since I was a boy—years and years ago."</p> + +<p>While they thus watched him a click at the gate was audible, and a +knock came to the door. Eustacia went to a window and looked out.</p> + +<p>Her countenance changed. First she became crimson, and then the +red subsided till it even partially left her lips.</p> + +<p>"Shall I go away?" said Wildeve, standing up.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know."</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Yeobright. O, what she said to me that day! I cannot +understand this visit—what does she mean? And she suspects that +past time of ours."</p> + +<p>"I am in your hands. If you think she had better not see me here +I'll go into the next room."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes: go."</p> + +<p>Wildeve at once withdrew; but before he had been half a minute in +the adjoining apartment Eustacia came after him.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "we won't have any of this. If she comes in she +must see you—and think if she likes there's something wrong! But +how can I open the door to her, when she dislikes me—wishes to +see not me, but her son? I won't open the door!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright knocked again more loudly.</p> + +<p>"Her knocking will, in all likelihood, awaken him," continued +Eustacia, "and then he will let her in himself. Ah—listen."</p> + +<p>They could hear Clym moving in the other room, as if disturbed by +the knocking, and he uttered the word "Mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes—he is awake—he will go to the door," she said, with a +breath of relief. "Come this way. I have a bad name with her, and +you must not be seen. Thus I am obliged to act by stealth, not +because I do ill, but because others are pleased to say so."</p> + +<p>By this time she had taken him to the back door, which was open, +disclosing a path leading down the garden. "Now, one word, Damon," +she remarked as he stepped forth. "This is your first visit here; +let it be your last. We have been hot lovers in our time, but it +won't do now. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said Wildeve. "I have had all I came for, and I am +satisfied."</p> + +<p>"What was it?"</p> + +<p>"A sight of you. Upon my eternal honour I came for no more."</p> + +<p>Wildeve kissed his hand to the beautiful girl he addressed, and +passed into the garden, where she watched him down the path, over +the stile at the end, and into the ferns outside, which brushed +his hips as he went along till he became lost in their thickets. +When he had quite gone she slowly turned, and directed her +attention to the interior of the house.</p> + +<p>But it was possible that her presence might not be desired by Clym +and his mother at this moment of their first meeting, or that it +would be superfluous. At all events, she was in no hurry to meet +Mrs. Yeobright. She resolved to wait till Clym came to look for +her, and glided back into the garden. Here she idly occupied +herself for a few minutes, till finding no notice was taken of her +she retraced her steps through the house to the front, where she +listened for voices in the parlour. But hearing none she opened +the door and went in. To her astonishment Clym lay precisely as +Wildeve and herself had left him, his sleep apparently unbroken. +He had been disturbed and made to dream and murmur by the +knocking, but he had not awakened. Eustacia hastened to the door, +and in spite of her reluctance to open it to a woman who had +spoken of her so bitterly, she unfastened it and looked out. +Nobody was to be seen. There, by the scraper, lay Clym's hook and +the handful of faggot-bonds he had brought home; in front of her +were the empty path, the garden gate standing slightly ajar; and, +beyond, the great valley of purple heath thrilling silently in the +sun. Mrs. Yeobright was gone.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Clym's mother was at this time following a path which lay hidden +from Eustacia by a shoulder of the hill. Her walk thither from the +garden gate had been hasty and determined, as of a woman who was +now no less anxious to escape from the scene than she had +previously been to enter it. Her eyes were fixed on the ground; +within her two sights were graven—that of Clym's hook and +brambles at the door, and that of a woman's face at a window. Her +lips trembled, becoming unnaturally thin as she murmured, "'Tis +too much—Clym, how can he bear to do it! He is at home; and yet +he lets her shut the door against me!"</p> + +<p>In her anxiety to get out of the direct view of the house she had +diverged from the straightest path homeward, and while looking +about to regain it she came upon a little boy gathering +whortleberries in a hollow. The boy was Johnny Nunsuch, who had +been Eustacia's stoker at the bonfire, and, with the tendency of a +minute body to gravitate towards a greater, he began hovering +round Mrs. Yeobright as soon as she appeared, and trotted on +beside her without perceptible consciousness of his act.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright spoke to him as one in a mesmeric sleep. "'Tis a +long way home, my child, and we shall not get there till evening."</p> + +<p>"I shall," said her small companion. "I am going to play marnels +afore supper, and we go to supper at six o'clock, because father +comes home. Does your father come home at six too?"</p> + +<p>"No, he never comes; nor my son either, nor anybody."</p> + +<p>"What have made you so down? Have you seen a ooser?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen what's worse—a woman's face looking at me through a +window-pane."</p> + +<p>"Is that a bad sight?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It is always a bad sight to see a woman looking out at a +weary wayfarer and not letting her in."</p> + +<p>"Once when I went to Throope Great Pond to catch effets I seed +myself looking up at myself, and I was frightened and jumped back +like anything."</p> + +<p>…"If they had only shown signs of meeting my advances +half-way how well it might have been done! But there is no chance. +Shut out! She must have set him against me. Can there be beautiful +bodies without hearts inside? I think so. I would not have done it +against a neighbour's cat on such a fiery day as this!"</p> + +<p>"What is it you say?"</p> + +<p>"Never again—never! Not even if they send for me!"</p> + +<p>"You must be a very curious woman to talk like that."</p> + +<p>"O no, not at all," she said, returning to the boy's prattle. +"Most people who grow up and have children talk as I do. When you +grow up your mother will talk as I do too."</p> + +<p>"I hope she won't; because 'tis very bad to talk nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Yes, child; it is nonsense, I suppose. Are you not nearly spent +with the heat?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But not so much as you be."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Your face is white and wet, and your head is hanging-down-like."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I am exhausted from inside."</p> + +<p>"Why do you, every time you take a step, go like this?" The child +in speaking gave to his motion the jerk and limp of an invalid.</p> + +<p>"Because I have a burden which is more than I can bear."</p> + +<p>The little boy remained silently pondering, and they tottered on +side by side until more than a quarter of an hour had elapsed, +when Mrs. Yeobright, whose weakness plainly increased, said to +him, "I must sit down here to rest."</p> + +<p>When she had seated herself he looked long in her face and said, +"How funny you draw your breath—like a lamb when you drive him +till he's nearly done for. Do you always draw your breath like +that?"</p> + +<p>"Not always." Her voice was now so low as to be scarcely above a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"You will go to sleep there, I suppose, won't you? You have shut +your eyes already."</p> + +<p>"No. I shall not sleep much till—another day, and then I hope to +have a long, long one—very long. Now can you tell me if Rimsmoor +Pond is dry this summer?"</p> + +<p>"Rimsmoor Pond is, but Oker's Pool isn't, because he is deep, and +is never dry—'tis just over there."</p> + +<p>"Is the water clear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, middling—except where the heath-croppers walk into it."</p> + +<p>"Then, take this, and go as fast as you can, and dip me up the +clearest you can find. I am very faint."</p> + +<p>She drew from the small willow reticule that she carried in her +hand an old-fashioned china teacup without a handle; it was one of +half a dozen of the same sort lying in the reticule, which she had +preserved ever since her childhood, and had brought with her today +as a small present for Clym and Eustacia.</p> + +<p>The boy started on his errand, and soon came back with the water, +such as it was. Mrs. Yeobright attempted to drink, but it was so +warm as to give her nausea, and she threw it away. Afterwards she +still remained sitting, with her eyes closed.</p> + +<p>The boy waited, played near her, caught several of the little +brown butterflies which abounded, and then said as he waited +again, "I like going on better than biding still. Will you soon +start again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"I wish I might go on by myself," he resumed, fearing, apparently, +that he was to be pressed into some unpleasant service. "Do you +want me any more, please?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright made no reply.</p> + +<p>"What shall I tell mother?" the boy continued.</p> + +<p>"Tell her you have seen a broken-hearted woman cast off by her +son."</p> + +<p>Before quite leaving her he threw upon her face a wistful glance, +as if he had misgivings on the generosity of forsaking her thus. +He gazed into her face in a vague, wondering manner, like that of +one examining some strange old manuscript the key to whose +characters is undiscoverable. He was not so young as to be +absolutely without a sense that sympathy was demanded, he was not +old enough to be free from the terror felt in childhood at +beholding misery in adult quarters hitherto deemed impregnable; +and whether she were in a position to cause trouble or to suffer +from it, whether she and her affliction were something to pity or +something to fear, it was beyond him to decide. He lowered his +eyes and went on without another word. Before he had gone half a +mile he had forgotten all about her, except that she was a woman +who had sat down to rest.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Yeobright's exertions, physical and emotional, had well-nigh +prostrated her; but she continued to creep along in short stages +with long breaks between. The sun had now got far to the west of +south and stood directly in her face, like some merciless +incendiary, brand in hand, waiting to consume her. With the +departure of the boy all visible animation disappeared from the +landscape, though the intermittent husky notes of the male +grasshoppers from every tuft of furze were enough to show that +amid the prostration of the larger animal species an unseen insect +world was busy in all the fullness of life.</p> + +<p>In two hours she reached a slope about three-fourths the whole +distance from Alderworth to her own home, where a little patch of +shepherd's-thyme intruded upon the path; and she sat down upon the +perfumed mat it formed there. In front of her a colony of ants had +established a thoroughfare across the way, where they toiled a +never-ending and heavy-laden throng. To look down upon them was +like observing a city street from the top of a tower. She +remembered that this bustle of ants had been in progress for years +at the same spot—doubtless those of the old times were the +ancestors of these which walked there now. She leant back to +obtain more thorough rest, and the soft eastern portion of the sky +was as great a relief to her eyes as the thyme was to her head. +While she looked a heron arose on that side of the sky and flew on +with his face towards the sun. He had come dripping wet from some +pool in the valleys, and as he flew the edges and lining of his +wings, his thighs, and his breast were so caught by the bright +sunbeams that he appeared as if formed of burnished silver. Up in +the zenith where he was seemed a free and happy place, away from +all contact with the earthly ball to which she was pinioned; and +she wished that she could arise uncrushed from its surface and fly +as he flew then.</p> + +<p>But, being a mother, it was inevitable that she should soon cease +to ruminate upon her own condition. Had the track of her next +thought been marked by a streak in the air, like the path of a +meteor, it would have shown a direction contrary to the heron's, +and have descended to the eastward upon the roof of Clym's house.</p> + + +<p><a name="4-7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII</h3> +<h3>The Tragic Meeting of Two Old Friends<br /> </h3> + + +<p>He in the meantime had aroused himself from sleep, sat up, and +looked around. Eustacia was sitting in a chair hard by him, and +though she held a book in her hand she had not looked into it for +some time.</p> + +<p>"Well, indeed!" said Clym, brushing his eyes with his hands. "How +soundly I have slept! I have had such a tremendous dream, too: one +I shall never forget."</p> + +<p>"I thought you had been dreaming," said she.</p> + +<p>"Yes. It was about my mother. I dreamt that I took you to her +house to make up differences, and when we got there we couldn't +get in, though she kept on crying to us for help. However, dreams +are dreams. What o'clock is it, Eustacia?"</p> + +<p>"Half-past two."</p> + +<p>"So late, is it? I didn't mean to stay so long. By the time I have +had something to eat it will be after three."</p> + +<p>"Ann is not come back from the village, and I thought I would let +you sleep on till she returned."</p> + +<p>Clym went to the window and looked out. Presently he said, +musingly, "Week after week passes, and yet mother does not come. I +thought I should have heard something from her long before this."</p> + +<p>Misgiving, regret, fear, resolution, ran their swift course of +expression in Eustacia's dark eyes. She was face to face with a +monstrous difficulty, and she resolved to get free of it by +postponement.</p> + +<p>"I must certainly go to Blooms-End soon," he continued, "and I +think I had better go alone." He picked up his leggings and +gloves, threw them down again, and added, "As dinner will be so +late today I will not go back to the heath, but work in the garden +till the evening, and then, when it will be cooler, I will walk to +Blooms-End. I am quite sure that if I make a little advance mother +will be willing to forget all. It will be rather late before I can +get home, as I shall not be able to do the distance either way in +less than an hour and a half. But you will not mind for one +evening, dear? What are you thinking of to make you look so +abstracted?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you," she said heavily. "I wish we didn't live +here, Clym. The world seems all wrong in this place."</p> + +<p>"Well—if we make it so. I wonder if Thomasin has been to +Blooms-End lately. I hope so. But probably not, as she is, I +believe, expecting to be confined in a month or so. I wish I had +thought of that before. Poor mother must indeed be very lonely."</p> + +<p>"I don't like you going tonight."</p> + +<p>"Why not tonight?"</p> + +<p>"Something may be said which will terribly injure me."</p> + +<p>"My mother is not vindictive," said Clym, his colour faintly +rising.</p> + +<p>"But I wish you would not go," Eustacia repeated in a low tone. +"If you agree not to go tonight I promise to go by myself to her +house tomorrow, and make it up with her, and wait till you fetch +me."</p> + +<p>"Why do you want to do that at this particular time, when at every +previous time that I have proposed it you have refused?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot explain further than that I should like to see her alone +before you go," she answered, with an impatient move of her head, +and looking at him with an anxiety more frequently seen upon those +of a sanguine temperament than upon such as herself.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is very odd that just when I had decided to go myself +you should want to do what I proposed long ago. If I wait for you +to go tomorrow another day will be lost; and I know I shall be +unable to rest another night without having been. I want to get +this settled, and will. You must visit her afterwards: it will be +all the same."</p> + +<p>"I could even go with you now?"</p> + +<p>"You could scarcely walk there and back without a longer rest than +I shall take. No, not tonight, Eustacia."</p> + +<p>"Let it be as you say, then," she replied in the quiet way of one +who, though willing to ward off evil consequences by a mild +effort, would let events fall out as they might sooner than +wrestle hard to direct them.</p> + +<p>Clym then went into the garden; and a thoughtful languor stole +over Eustacia for the remainder of the afternoon, which her +husband attributed to the heat of the weather.</p> + +<p>In the evening he set out on the journey. Although the heat of +summer was yet intense the days had considerably shortened, and +before he had advanced a mile on his way all the heath purples, +browns, and greens had merged in a uniform dress without airiness +or graduation, and broken only by touches of white where the +little heaps of clean quartz sand showed the entrance to a +rabbit-burrow, or where the white flints of a footpath lay like a +thread over the slopes. In almost every one of the isolated and +stunted thorns which grew here and there a night-hawk revealed his +presence by whirring like the clack of a mill as long as he could +hold his breath, then stopping, flapping his wings, wheeling +round the bush, alighting, and after a silent interval of listening +beginning to whirr again. At each brushing of Clym's feet white +miller-moths flew into the air just high enough to catch upon their +dusty wings the mellowed light from the west, which now shone +across the depressions and levels of the ground without falling +thereon to light them up.</p> + +<p>Yeobright walked on amid this quiet scene with a hope that all +would soon be well. Three miles on he came to a spot where a soft +perfume was wafted across his path, and he stood still for a +moment to inhale the familiar scent. It was the place at which, +four hours earlier, his mother had sat down exhausted on the knoll +covered with shepherd's-thyme. While he stood a sound between a +breathing and a moan suddenly reached his ears.</p> + +<p>He looked to where the sound came from; but nothing appeared there +save the verge of the hillock stretching against the sky in an +unbroken line. He moved a few steps in that direction, and now he +perceived a recumbent figure almost close at his feet.</p> + +<p>Among the different possibilities as to the person's individuality +there did not for a moment occur to Yeobright that it might be one +of his own family. Sometimes furze-cutters had been known to sleep +out of doors at these times, to save a long journey homeward and +back again; but Clym remembered the moan and looked closer, and +saw that the form was feminine; and a distress came over him like +cold air from a cave. But he was not absolutely certain that the +woman was his mother till he stooped and beheld her face, pallid, +and with closed eyes.</p> + +<p>His breath went, as it were, out of his body and the cry of +anguish which would have escaped him died upon his lips. During +the momentary interval that elapsed before he became conscious +that something must be done all sense of time and place left him, +and it seemed as if he and his mother were as when he was a child +with her many years ago on this heath at hours similar to the +present. Then he awoke to activity; and bending yet lower he found +that she still breathed, and that her breath though feeble was +regular, except when disturbed by an occasional gasp.</p> + +<p>"O, what is it! Mother, are you very ill—you are not dying?" he +cried, pressing his lips to her face. "I am your Clym. How did you +come here? What does it all mean?"</p> + +<p>At that moment the chasm in their lives which his love for +Eustacia had caused was not remembered by Yeobright, and to him +the present joined continuously with that friendly past that had +been their experience before the division.</p> + +<p>She moved her lips, appeared to know him, but could not speak; and +then Clym strove to consider how best to move her, as it would be +necessary to get her away from the spot before the dews were +intense. He was able-bodied, and his mother was thin. He clasped +his arms round her, lifted her a little, and said, "Does that hurt +you?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head, and he lifted her up; then, at a slow pace, +went onward with his load. The air was now completely cool; but +whenever he passed over a sandy patch of ground uncarpeted with +vegetation there was reflected from its surface into his face the +heat which it had imbibed during the day. At the beginning of his +undertaking he had thought but little of the distance which yet +would have to be traversed before Blooms-End could be reached; but +though he had slept that afternoon he soon began to feel the +weight of his burden. Thus he proceeded, like Aeneas with his +father; the bats circling round his head, nightjars flapping their +wings within a yard of his face, and not a human being within +call.</p> + +<p>While he was yet nearly a mile from the house his mother exhibited +signs of restlessness under the constraint of being borne along, +as if his arms were irksome to her. He lowered her upon his knees +and looked around. The point they had now reached, though far from +any road, was not more than a mile from the Blooms-End cottages +occupied by Fairway, Sam, Humphrey, and the Cantles. Moreover, +fifty yards off stood a hut, built of clods and covered with thin +turves, but now entirely disused. The simple outline of the lonely +shed was visible, and thither he determined to direct his steps. +As soon as he arrived he laid her down carefully by the entrance, +and then ran and cut with his pocketknife an armful of the dryest +fern. Spreading this within the shed, which was entirely open on +one side, he placed his mother thereon; then he ran with all his +might towards the dwelling of Fairway.</p> + +<p>Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed, disturbed only by the +broken breathing of the sufferer, when moving figures began to +animate the line between heath and sky. In a few moments Clym +arrived with Fairway, Humphrey, and Susan Nunsuch; Olly Dowden, +who had chanced to be at Fairway's, Christian and Grandfer Cantle +following helter-skelter behind. They had brought a lantern and +matches, water, a pillow, and a few other articles which had +occurred to their minds in the hurry of the moment. Sam had been +despatched back again for brandy, and a boy brought Fairway's +pony, upon which he rode off to the nearest medical man, with +directions to call at Wildeve's on his way, and inform Thomasin +that her aunt was unwell.</p> + +<p>Sam and the brandy soon arrived, and it was administered by the +light of the lantern; after which she became sufficiently +conscious to signify by signs that something was wrong with her +foot. Olly Dowden at length understood her meaning, and examined +the foot indicated. It was swollen and red. Even as they watched +the red began to assume a more livid colour, in the midst of which +appeared a scarlet speck, smaller than a pea, and it was found to +consist of a drop of blood, which rose above the smooth flesh of +her ankle in a hemisphere.</p> + +<p>"I know what it is," cried Sam. "She has been stung by an adder!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Clym instantly. "I remember when I was a child seeing +just such a bite. O, my poor mother!"</p> + +<p>"It was my father who was bit," said Sam. "And there's only one +way to cure it. You must rub the place with the fat of other +adders, and the only way to get that is by frying them. That's +what they did for him."</p> + +<p>"'Tis an old remedy," said Clym distrustfully, "and I have doubts +about it. But we can do nothing else till the doctor comes."</p> + +<p>"'Tis a sure cure," said Olly Dowden, with emphasis. "I've used it +when I used to go out nursing."</p> + +<p>"Then we must pray for daylight, to catch them," said Clym +gloomily.</p> + +<p>"I will see what I can do," said Sam.</p> + +<p>He took a green hazel which he had used as a walking-stick, split +it at the end, inserted a small pebble, and with the lantern in +his hand went out into the heath. Clym had by this time lit a +small fire, and despatched Susan Nunsuch for a frying-pan. Before +she had returned Sam came in with three adders, one briskly +coiling and uncoiling in the cleft of the stick, and the other two +hanging dead across it.</p> + +<p>"I have only been able to get one alive and fresh as he ought to +be," said Sam. "These limp ones are two I killed today at work; +but as they don't die till the sun goes down they can't be very +stale meat."</p> + +<p>The live adder regarded the assembled group with a sinister look +in its small black eye, and the beautiful brown and jet pattern on +its back seemed to intensify with indignation. Mrs. Yeobright saw +the creature, and the creature saw her: she quivered throughout, +and averted her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Look at that," murmured Christian Cantle. "Neighbours, how do we +know but that something of the old serpent in God's garden, that +gied the apple to the young woman with no clothes, lives on in +adders and snakes still? Look at his eye—for all the world like a +villainous sort of black currant. 'Tis to be hoped he can't +ill-wish us! There's folks in heath who've been overlooked +already. I will never kill another adder as long as I live."</p> + +<p>"Well, 'tis right to be afeard of things, if folks can't help it," +said Grandfer Cantle. "'Twould have saved me many a brave danger +in my time."</p> + +<p>"I fancy I heard something outside the shed," said Christian. "I +wish troubles would come in the daytime, for then a man could show +his courage, and hardly beg for mercy of the most broomstick old +woman he should see, if he was a brave man, and able to run out of +her sight!"</p> + +<p>"Even such an ignorant fellow as I should know better than do +that," said Sam.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's calamities where we least expect it, whether or no. +Neighbours, if Mrs. Yeobright were to die, d'ye think we should be +took up and tried for the manslaughter of a woman?"</p> + +<p>"No, they couldn't bring it in as that," said Sam, "unless they +could prove we had been poachers at some time of our lives. But +she'll fetch round."</p> + +<p>"Now, if I had been stung by ten adders I should hardly have lost +a day's work for't," said Grandfer Cantle. "Such is my spirit when +I am on my mettle. But perhaps 'tis natural in a man trained for +war. Yes, I've gone through a good deal; but nothing ever came +amiss to me after I joined the Locals in four." He shook his head +and smiled at a mental picture of himself in uniform. "I was +always first in the most galliantest scrapes in my younger days!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose that was because they always used to put the biggest +fool afore," said Fairway from the fire, beside which he knelt, +blowing it with his breath.</p> + +<p>"D'ye think so, Timothy?" said Grandfer Cantle, coming forward to +Fairway's side with sudden depression in his face. "Then a man may +feel for years that he is good solid company, and be wrong about +himself after all?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind that question, Grandfer. Stir your stumps and get some +more sticks. 'Tis very nonsense of an old man to prattle so when +life and death's in mangling."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Grandfer Cantle, with melancholy conviction. +"Well, this is a bad night altogether for them that have done well +in their time; and if I were ever such a dab at the hautboy or +tenor-viol, I shouldn't have the heart to play tunes upon 'em +now."</p> + +<p>Susan now arrived with the frying-pan, when the live adder was +killed and the heads of the three taken off. The remainders, being +cut into lengths and split open, were tossed into the pan, which +began hissing and crackling over the fire. Soon a rill of clear +oil trickled from the carcases, whereupon Clym dipped the corner +of his handkerchief into the liquid and anointed the wound.</p> + + +<p><a name="4-8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII</h3> +<h3>Eustacia Hears of Good Fortune, and Beholds Evil<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In the meantime Eustacia, left alone in her cottage at Alderworth, +had become considerably depressed by the posture of affairs. The +consequences which might result from Clym's discovery that his +mother had been turned from his door that day were likely to be +disagreeable, and this was a quality in events which she hated as +much as the dreadful.</p> + +<p>To be left to pass the evening by herself was irksome to her at +any time, and this evening it was more irksome than usual by +reason of the excitements of the past hours. The two visits had +stirred her into restlessness. She was not wrought to any great +pitch of uneasiness by the probability of appearing in an ill +light in the discussion between Clym and his mother, but she was +wrought to vexation; and her slumbering activities were quickened +to the extent of wishing that she had opened the door. She had +certainly believed that Clym was awake, and the excuse would be an +honest one as far as it went; but nothing could save her from +censure in refusing to answer at the first knock. Yet, instead of +blaming herself for the issue she laid the fault upon the +shoulders of some indistinct, colossal Prince of the World, who +had framed her situation and ruled her lot.</p> + +<p>At this time of the year it was pleasanter to walk by night than +by day, and when Clym had been absent about an hour she suddenly +resolved to go out in the direction of Blooms-End, on the chance +of meeting him on his return. When she reached the garden gate she +heard wheels approaching, and looking round beheld her grandfather +coming up in his car.</p> + +<p>"I can't stay a minute, thank ye," he answered to her greeting. "I +am driving to East Egdon; but I came round here just to tell you +the news. Perhaps you have heard—about Mr. Wildeve's fortune?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Eustacia blankly.</p> + +<p>"Well, he has come into a fortune of eleven thousand pounds—uncle +died in Canada, just after hearing that all his family, whom he +was sending home, had gone to the bottom in the <i>Cassiopeia</i>; +so Wildeve has come into everything, without in the least expecting +it."</p> + +<p>Eustacia stood motionless awhile. "How long has he known of this?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, it was known to him this morning early, for I knew it at +ten o'clock, when Charley came back. Now, he is what I call a +lucky man. What a fool you were, Eustacia!"</p> + +<p>"In what way?" she said, lifting her eyes in apparent calmness.</p> + +<p>"Why, in not sticking to him when you had him."</p> + +<p>"Had him, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"I did not know there had ever been anything between you till +lately; and, faith, I should have been hot and strong against it +if I had known; but since it seems that there was some sniffing +between ye, why the deuce didn't you stick to him?"</p> + +<p>Eustacia made no reply, but she looked as if she could say as much +upon that subject as he if she chose.</p> + +<p>"And how is your poor purblind husband?" continued the old man. +"Not a bad fellow either, as far as he goes."</p> + +<p>"He is quite well."</p> + +<p>"It is a good thing for his cousin what-d'ye-call-her? By George, +you ought to have been in that galley, my girl! Now I must drive +on. Do you want any assistance? What's mine is yours, you know."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, grandfather, we are not in want at present," she said +coldly. "Clym cuts furze, but he does it mostly as a useful +pastime, because he can do nothing else."</p> + +<p>"He is paid for his pastime, isn't he? Three shillings a hundred, +I heard."</p> + +<p>"Clym has money," she said, colouring, "but he likes to earn a +little."</p> + +<p>"Very well; good night." And the captain drove on.</p> + +<p>When her grandfather was gone Eustacia went on her way +mechanically; but her thoughts were no longer concerning her +mother-in-law and Clym. Wildeve, notwithstanding his complaints +against his fate, had been seized upon by destiny and placed in +the sunshine once more. Eleven thousand pounds! From every Egdon +point of view he was a rich man. In Eustacia's eyes, too, it was +an ample sum—one sufficient to supply those wants of hers which +had been stigmatized by Clym in his more austere moods as vain and +luxurious. Though she was no lover of money she loved what money +could bring; and the new accessories she imagined around him +clothed Wildeve with a great deal of interest. She recollected now +how quietly well-dressed he had been that morning: he had probably +put on his newest suit, regardless of damage by briars and thorns. +And then she thought of his manner towards herself.</p> + +<p>"O I see it, I see it," she said. "How much he wishes he had me +now, that he might give me all I desire!"</p> + +<p>In recalling the details of his glances and words—at the time +scarcely regarded—it became plain to her how greatly they had +been dictated by his knowledge of this new event. "Had he been a +man to bear a jilt ill-will he would have told me of his good +fortune in crowing tones; instead of doing that he mentioned not a +word, in deference to my misfortunes, and merely implied that he +loved me still, as one superior to him."</p> + +<p>Wildeve's silence that day on what had happened to him was just +the kind of behaviour calculated to make an impression on such a +woman. Those delicate touches of good taste were, in fact, one of +the strong points in his demeanour towards the other sex. The +peculiarity of Wildeve was that, while at one time passionate, +upbraiding, and resentful towards a woman, at another he would +treat her with such unparalleled grace as to make previous neglect +appear as no discourtesy, injury as no insult, interference as a +delicate attention, and the ruin of her honour as excess of +chivalry. This man, whose admiration today Eustacia had +disregarded, whose good wishes she had scarcely taken the trouble +to accept, whom she had shown out of the house by the back door, +was the possessor of eleven thousand pounds—a man of fair +professional education, and one who had served his articles with a +civil engineer.</p> + +<p>So intent was Eustacia upon Wildeve's fortunes that she forgot how +much closer to her own course were those of Clym; and instead of +walking on to meet him at once she sat down upon a stone. She was +disturbed in her reverie by a voice behind, and turning her head +beheld the old lover and fortunate inheritor of wealth immediately +beside her.</p> + +<p>She remained sitting, though the fluctuation in her look might +have told any man who knew her so well as Wildeve that she was +thinking of him.</p> + +<p>"How did you come here?" she said in her clear low tone. "I +thought you were at home."</p> + +<p>"I went on to the village after leaving your garden; and now I +have come back again: that's all. Which way are you walking, may I +ask?"</p> + +<p>She waved her hand in the direction of Blooms-End. "I am going to +meet my husband. I think I may possibly have got into trouble +whilst you were with me today."</p> + +<p>"How could that be?"</p> + +<p>"By not letting in Mrs. Yeobright."</p> + +<p>"I hope that visit of mine did you no harm."</p> + +<p>"None. It was not your fault," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>By this time she had risen; and they involuntarily sauntered on +together, without speaking, for two or three minutes; when +Eustacia broke silence by saying, "I assume I must congratulate +you."</p> + +<p>"On what? O yes; on my eleven thousand pounds, you mean. Well, +since I didn't get something else, I must be content with getting +that."</p> + +<p>"You seem very indifferent about it. Why didn't you tell me today +when you came?" she said in the tone of a neglected person. "I +heard of it quite by accident."</p> + +<p>"I did mean to tell you," said Wildeve. "But I—well, I will speak +frankly—I did not like to mention it when I saw, Eustacia, that +your star was not high. The sight of a man lying wearied out with +hard work, as your husband lay, made me feel that to brag of my +own fortune to you would be greatly out of place. Yet, as you +stood there beside him, I could not help feeling too that in many +respects he was a richer man than I."</p> + +<p>At this Eustacia said, with slumbering mischievousness, "What, +would you exchange with him—your fortune for me?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly would," said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"As we are imagining what is impossible and absurd, suppose we +change the subject?"</p> + +<p>"Very well; and I will tell you of my plans for the future, if you +care to hear them. I shall permanently invest nine thousand +pounds, keep one thousand as ready money, and with the remaining +thousand travel for a year or so."</p> + +<p>"Travel? What a bright idea! Where will you go to?"</p> + +<p>"From here to Paris, where I shall pass the winter and spring. +Then I shall go to Italy, Greece, Egypt, and Palestine, before the +hot weather comes on. In the summer I shall go to America; and +then, by a plan not yet settled, I shall go to Australia and round +to India. By that time I shall have begun to have had enough of +it. Then I shall probably come back to Paris again, and there I +shall stay as long as I can afford to."</p> + +<p>"Back to Paris again," she murmured in a voice that was nearly a +sigh. She had never once told Wildeve of the Parisian desires +which Clym's description had sown in her; yet here was he +involuntarily in a position to gratify them. "You think a good +deal of Paris?" she added.</p> + +<p>"Yes. In my opinion it is the central beauty-spot of the world."</p> + +<p>"And in mine! And Thomasin will go with you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if she cares to. She may prefer to stay at home."</p> + +<p>"So you will be going about, and I shall be staying here!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you will. But we know whose fault that is."</p> + +<p>"I am not blaming you," she said quickly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thought you were. If ever you <i>should</i> be inclined to +blame me, think of a certain evening by Rainbarrow, when you +promised to meet me and did not. You sent me a letter; and my heart +ached to read that as I hope yours never will. That was one point of +divergence. I then did something in haste… But she is a good +woman, and I will say no more."</p> + +<p>"I know that the blame was on my side that time," said Eustacia. +"But it had not always been so. However, it is my misfortune to be +too sudden in feeling. O, Damon, don't reproach me any more—I +can't bear that."</p> + +<p>They went on silently for a distance of two or three miles, when +Eustacia said suddenly, "Haven't you come out of your way, Mr. +Wildeve?"</p> + +<p>"My way is anywhere tonight. I will go with you as far as the hill +on which we can see Blooms-End, as it is getting late for you to +be alone."</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble. I am not obliged to be out at all. I think I would +rather you did not accompany me further. This sort of thing would +have an odd look if known."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I will leave you." He took her hand unexpectedly, and +kissed it—for the first time since her marriage. "What light is +that on the hill?" he added, as it were to hide the caress.</p> + +<p>She looked, and saw a flickering firelight proceeding from the +open side of a hovel a little way before them. The hovel, which +she had hitherto always found empty, seemed to be inhabited now.</p> + +<p>"Since you have come so far," said Eustacia, "will you see me +safely past that hut? I thought I should have met Clym somewhere +about here, but as he doesn't appear I will hasten on and get to +Blooms-End before he leaves."</p> + +<p>They advanced to the turf-shed, and when they got near it the +firelight and the lantern inside showed distinctly enough the form +of a woman reclining on a bed of fern, a group of heath men and +women standing around her. Eustacia did not recognize Mrs. +Yeobright in the reclining figure, nor Clym as one of the +standers-by till she came close. Then she quickly pressed her hand +upon Wildeve's arm and signified to him to come back from the +open side of the shed into the shadow.</p> + +<p>"It is my husband and his mother," she whispered in an agitated +voice. "What can it mean? Will you step forward and tell me?"</p> + +<p>Wildeve left her side and went to the back wall of the hut. +Presently Eustacia perceived that he was beckoning to her, and she +advanced and joined him.</p> + +<p>"It is a serious case," said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>From their position they could hear what was proceeding inside.</p> + +<p>"I cannot think where she could have been going," said Clym to +some one. "She had evidently walked a long way, but even when she +was able to speak just now she would not tell me where. What do +you really think of her?"</p> + +<p>"There is a great deal to fear," was gravely answered, in a voice +which Eustacia recognized as that of the only surgeon in the +district. "She has suffered somewhat from the bite of the adder; +but it is exhaustion which has overpowered her. My impression is +that her walk must have been exceptionally long."</p> + +<p>"I used to tell her not to overwalk herself this weather," said +Clym, with distress. "Do you think we did well in using the +adder's fat?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is a very ancient remedy—the old remedy of the +viper-catchers, I believe," replied the doctor. "It is mentioned +as an infallible ointment by Hoffman, Mead, and I think the +Abbé Fontana. Undoubtedly it was as good a thing as you +could do; though I question if some other oils would not have +been equally efficacious."</p> + +<p>"Come here, come here!" was then rapidly said in anxious female +tones; and Clym and the doctor could be heard rushing forward from +the back part of the shed to where Mrs. Yeobright lay.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is it?" whispered Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"'Twas Thomasin who spoke," said Wildeve. "Then they have fetched +her. I wonder if I had better go in—yet it might do harm."</p> + +<p>For a long time there was utter silence among the group within; +and it was broken at last by Clym saying, in an agonized voice, "O +Doctor, what does it mean?"</p> + +<p>The doctor did not reply at once; ultimately he said, "She is +sinking fast. Her heart was previously affected, and physical +exhaustion has dealt the finishing blow."</p> + +<p>Then there was a weeping of women, then waiting, then hushed +exclamations, then a strange gasping sound, then a painful +stillness.</p> + +<p>"It is all over," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>Further back in the hut the cotters whispered, "Mrs. Yeobright is +dead."</p> + +<p>Almost at the same moment the two watchers observed the form of a +small old-fashioned child entering at the open side of the shed. +Susan Nunsuch, whose boy it was, went forward to the opening and +silently beckoned to him to go back.</p> + +<p>"I've got something to tell 'ee, mother," he cried in a shrill +tone. "That woman asleep there walked along with me today; and she +said I was to say that I had seed her, and she was a +broken-hearted woman and cast off by her son, and then I came on +home."</p> + +<p>A confused sob as from a man was heard within, upon which Eustacia +gasped faintly, "That's Clym—I must go to him—yet dare I do it? +No: come away!"</p> + +<p>When they had withdrawn from the neighbourhood of the shed she +said huskily, "I am to blame for this. There is evil in store for +me."</p> + +<p>"Was she not admitted to your house after all?" Wildeve inquired.</p> + +<p>"No; and that's where it all lies! Oh, what shall I do! I shall +not intrude upon them: I shall go straight home. Damon, good-bye! +I cannot speak to you any more now."</p> + +<p>They parted company; and when Eustacia had reached the next hill +she looked back. A melancholy procession was wending its way by +the light of the lantern from the hut towards Blooms-End. Wildeve +was nowhere to be seen.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="5-1"></a> </p> +<h3>BOOK FIFTH</h3> +<h2>THE DISCOVERY</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>I</h3> +<h3>"Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>One evening, about three weeks after the funeral of Mrs. +Yeobright, when the silver face of the moon sent a bundle of beams +directly upon the floor of Clym's house at Alderworth, a woman +came forth from within. She reclined over the garden gate as if to +refresh herself awhile. The pale lunar touches which make beauties +of hags lent divinity to this face, already beautiful.</p> + +<p>She had not long been there when a man came up the road and with +some hesitation said to her, "How is he tonight, ma'am, if you +please?"</p> + +<p>"He is better, though still very unwell, Humphrey," replied +Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"Is he light-headed, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"No. He is quite sensible now."</p> + +<p>"Do he rave about his mother just the same, poor fellow?" +continued Humphrey.</p> + +<p>"Just as much, though not quite so wildly," she said in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>"It was very unfortunate, ma'am, that the boy Johnny should ever +ha' told him his mother's dying words, about her being +broken-hearted and cast off by her son. 'Twas enough to upset any +man alive."</p> + +<p>Eustacia made no reply beyond that of a slight catch in her +breath, as of one who fain would speak but could not; and +Humphrey, declining her invitation to come in, went away.</p> + +<p>Eustacia turned, entered the house, and ascended to the front +bedroom, where a shaded light was burning. In the bed lay Clym, +pale, haggard, wide awake, tossing to one side and to the other, +his eyes lit by a hot light, as if the fire in their pupils were +burning up their substance.</p> + +<p>"Is it you, Eustacia?" he said as she sat down.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Clym. I have been down to the gate. The moon is shining +beautifully, and there is not a leaf stirring."</p> + +<p>"Shining, is it? What's the moon to a man like me? Let it +shine—let anything be, so that I never see another +day!… Eustacia, I don't know where to look: my thoughts go +through me like swords. O, if any man wants to make himself +immortal by painting a picture of wretchedness, let him come +here!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you say so?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot help feeling that I did my best to kill her."</p> + +<p>"No, Clym."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was so; it is useless to excuse me! My conduct to her was +too hideous—I made no advances; and she could not bring herself +to forgive me. Now she is dead! If I had only shown myself willing +to make it up with her sooner, and we had been friends, and then +she had died, it wouldn't be so hard to bear. But I never went +near her house, so she never came near mine, and didn't know how +welcome she would have been—that's what troubles me. She did not +know I was going to her house that very night, for she was too +insensible to understand me. If she had only come to see me! I +longed that she would. But it was not to be."</p> + +<p>There escaped from Eustacia one of those shivering sighs which +used to shake her like a pestilent blast. She had not yet told.</p> + +<p>But Yeobright was too deeply absorbed in the ramblings incidental +to his remorseful state to notice her. During his illness he had +been continually talking thus. Despair had been added to his +original grief by the unfortunate disclosure of the boy who had +received the last words of Mrs. Yeobright—words too bitterly +uttered in an hour of misapprehension. Then his distress had +overwhelmed him, and he longed for death as a field labourer longs +for the shade. It was the pitiful sight of a man standing in the +very focus of sorrow. He continually bewailed his tardy journey to +his mother's house, because it was an error which could never be +rectified, and insisted that he must have been horribly perverted +by some fiend not to have thought before that it was his duty to +go to her, since she did not come to him. He would ask Eustacia to +agree with him in his self-condemnation; and when she, seared +inwardly by a secret she dared not tell, declared that she could +not give an opinion, he would say, "That's because you didn't know +my mother's nature. She was always ready to forgive if asked to do +so; but I seemed to her to be as an obstinate child, and that made +her unyielding. Yet not unyielding: she was proud and reserved, no +more… Yes, I can understand why she held out against me so long. +She was waiting for me. I dare say she said a hundred times in her +sorrow, 'What a return he makes for all the sacrifices I have made +for him!' I never went to her! When I set out to visit her it was +too late. To think of that is nearly intolerable!"</p> + +<p>Sometimes his condition had been one of utter remorse, unsoftened +by a single tear of pure sorrow: and then he writhed as he lay, +fevered far more by thought than by physical ills. "If I could +only get one assurance that she did not die in a belief that I was +resentful," he said one day when in this mood, "it would be better +to think of than a hope of heaven. But that I cannot do."</p> + +<p>"You give yourself up too much to this wearying despair," said +Eustacia. "Other men's mothers have died."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't make the loss of mine less. Yet it is less the loss +than the circumstances of the loss. I sinned against her, and on +that account there is no light for me."</p> + +<p>"She sinned against you, I think."</p> + +<p>"No, she did not. I committed the guilt; and may the whole burden +be upon my head!"</p> + +<p>"I think you might consider twice before you say that," Eustacia +replied. "Single men have, no doubt, a right to curse themselves +as much as they please; but men with wives involve two in the doom +they pray down."</p> + +<p>"I am in too sorry a state to understand what you are refining +on," said the wretched man. "Day and night shout at me, 'You have +helped to kill her.' But in loathing myself I may, I own, be +unjust to you, my poor wife. Forgive me for it, Eustacia, for I +scarcely know what I do."</p> + +<p>Eustacia was always anxious to avoid the sight of her husband in +such a state as this, which had become as dreadful to her as the +trial scene was to Judas Iscariot. It brought before her eyes the +spectre of a worn-out woman knocking at a door which she would not +open; and she shrank from contemplating it. Yet it was better for +Yeobright himself when he spoke openly of his sharp regret, for in +silence he endured infinitely more, and would sometimes remain so +long in a tense, brooding mood, consuming himself by the gnawing +of his thought, that it was imperatively necessary to make him +talk aloud, that his grief might in some degree expend itself in +the effort.</p> + +<p>Eustacia had not been long indoors after her look at the moonlight +when a soft footstep came up to the house, and Thomasin was +announced by the woman downstairs.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Thomasin! Thank you for coming tonight," said Clym when she +entered the room. "Here am I, you see. Such a wretched spectacle +am I, that I shrink from being seen by a single friend, and almost +from you."</p> + +<p>"You must not shrink from me, dear Clym," said Thomasin earnestly, +in that sweet voice of hers which came to a sufferer like fresh +air into a Black Hole. "Nothing in you can ever shock me or drive +me away. I have been here before, but you don't remember it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do; I am not delirious, Thomasin, nor have I been so at +all. Don't you believe that if they say so. I am only in great +misery at what I have done: and that, with the weakness, makes me +seem mad. But it has not upset my reason. Do you think I should +remember all about my mother's death if I were out of my mind? No +such good luck. Two months and a half, Thomasin, the last of her +life, did my poor mother live alone, distracted and mourning +because of me; yet she was unvisited by me, though I was living +only six miles off. Two months and a half—seventy-five days did +the sun rise and set upon her in that deserted state which a dog +didn't deserve! Poor people who had nothing in common with her +would have cared for her, and visited her had they known her +sickness and loneliness; but I, who should have been all to her, +stayed away like a cur. If there is any justice in God let Him +kill me now. He has nearly blinded me, but that is not enough. If +He would only strike me with more pain I would believe in Him +for ever!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush! O, pray, Clym, don't, don't say it!" implored +Thomasin, affrighted into sobs and tears; while Eustacia, at the +other side of the room, though her pale face remained calm, +writhed in her chair. Clym went on without heeding his cousin.</p> + +<p>"But I am not worth receiving further proof even of Heaven's +reprobation. Do you think, Thomasin, that she knew me—that she +did not die in that horrid mistaken notion about my not forgiving +her, which I can't tell you how she acquired? If you could only +assure me of that! Do you think so, Eustacia? Do speak to me."</p> + +<p>"I think I can assure you that she knew better at last," said +Thomasin. The pallid Eustacia said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't she come to my house? I would have taken her in and +showed her how I loved her in spite of all. But she never came; +and I didn't go to her, and she died on the heath like an animal +kicked out, nobody to help her till it was too late. If you could +have seen her, Thomasin, as I saw her—a poor dying woman, lying +in the dark upon the bare ground, moaning, nobody near, believing +she was utterly deserted by all the world, it would have moved you +to anguish, it would have moved a brute. And this poor woman my +mother! No wonder she said to the child, 'You have seen a +broken-hearted woman.' What a state she must have been brought to, +to say that! and who can have done it but I? It is too dreadful to +think of, and I wish I could be punished more heavily than I am. +How long was I what they called out of my senses?"</p> + +<p>"A week, I think."</p> + +<p>"And then I became calm."</p> + +<p>"Yes, for four days."</p> + +<p>"And now I have left off being calm."</p> + +<p>"But try to be quiet: please do, and you will soon be strong. If +you could remove that impression from your mind—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "But I don't want to get strong. +What's the use of my getting well? It would be better for me if I +die, and it would certainly be better for Eustacia. Is Eustacia +there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It would be better for you, Eustacia, if I were to die?"</p> + +<p>"Don't press such a question, dear Clym."</p> + +<p>"Well, it really is but a shadowy supposition; for unfortunately I +am going to live. I feel myself getting better. Thomasin, how long +are you going to stay at the inn, now that all this money has come +to your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Another month or two, probably; until my illness is over. We +cannot get off till then. I think it will be a month or more."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Of course. Ah, Cousin Tamsie, you will get over your +trouble—one little month will take you through it, and bring +something to console you; but I shall never get over mine, and no +consolation will come!"</p> + +<p>"Clym, you are unjust to yourself. Depend upon it, aunt thought +kindly of you. I know that, if she had lived, you would have been +reconciled with her."</p> + +<p>"But she didn't come to see me, though I asked her, before I +married, if she would come. Had she come, or had I gone there, she +would never have died saying, 'I am a broken-hearted woman, cast +off by my son.' My door has always been open to her—a welcome +here has always awaited her. But that she never came to see."</p> + +<p>"You had better not talk any more now, Clym," said Eustacia +faintly from the other part of the room, for the scene was growing +intolerable to her.</p> + +<p>"Let me talk to you instead for the little time I shall be here," +Thomasin said soothingly. "Consider what a one-sided way you have +of looking at the matter, Clym. When she said that to the little +boy you had not found her and taken her into your arms; and it +might have been uttered in a moment of bitterness. It was rather +like aunt to say things in haste. She sometimes used to speak so +to me. Though she did not come I am convinced that she thought of +coming to see you. Do you suppose a man's mother could live two or +three months without one forgiving thought? She forgave me; and +why should she not have forgiven you?"</p> + +<p>"You laboured to win her round; I did nothing. I, who was going to +teach people the higher secrets of happiness, did not know how to +keep out of that gross misery which the most untaught are wise +enough to avoid."</p> + +<p>"How did you get here tonight, Thomasin?" said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"Damon set me down at the end of the lane. He has driven into East +Egdon on business, and he will come and pick me up by-and-by."</p> + +<p>Accordingly they soon after heard the noise of wheels. Wildeve had +come, and was waiting outside with his horse and gig.</p> + +<p>"Send out and tell him I will be down in two minutes," said +Thomasin.</p> + +<p>"I will run down myself," said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>She went down. Wildeve had alighted, and was standing before the +horse's head when Eustacia opened the door. He did not turn for a +moment, thinking the comer Thomasin. Then he looked, started ever +so little, and said one word: "Well?"</p> + +<p>"I have not yet told him," she replied in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Then don't do so till he is well—it will be fatal. You are ill +yourself."</p> + +<p>"I am wretched… O Damon," she said, bursting into tears, +"I—I can't tell you how unhappy I am! I can hardly bear this. I can +tell nobody of my trouble—nobody knows of it but you."</p> + +<p>"Poor girl!" said Wildeve, visibly affected at her distress, and +at last led on so far as to take her hand. "It is hard, when you +have done nothing to deserve it, that you should have got involved +in such a web as this. You were not made for these sad scenes. I +am to blame most. If I could only have saved you from it all!"</p> + +<p>"But, Damon, please pray tell me what I must do? To sit by him +hour after hour, and hear him reproach himself as being the cause +of her death, and to know that I am the sinner, if any human being +is at all, drives me into cold despair. I don't know what to do. +Should I tell him or should I not tell him? I always am asking +myself that. O, I want to tell him; and yet I am afraid. If he +find it out he must surely kill me, for nothing else will be in +proportion to his feelings now. 'Beware the fury of a patient man' +sounds day by day in my ears as I watch him."</p> + +<p>"Well, wait till he is better, and trust to chance. And when you +tell, you must only tell part—for his own sake."</p> + +<p>"Which part should I keep back?"</p> + +<p>Wildeve paused. "That I was in the house at the time," he said in +a low tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes; it must be concealed, seeing what has been whispered. How +much easier are hasty actions than speeches that will excuse +them!"</p> + +<p>"If he were only to die—" Wildeve murmured.</p> + +<p>"Do not think of it! I would not buy hope of immunity by so +cowardly a desire even if I hated him. Now I am going up to him +again. Thomasin bade me tell you she would be down in a few +minutes. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She returned, and Thomasin soon appeared. When she was seated in +the gig with her husband, and the horse was turning to go off, +Wildeve lifted his eyes to the bedroom windows. Looking from one +of them he could discern a pale, tragic face watching him drive +away. It was Eustacia's.</p> + + +<p><a name="5-2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II</h3> +<h3>A Lurid Light Breaks In upon a Darkened Understanding<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Clym's grief became mitigated by wearing itself out. His strength +returned, and a month after the visit of Thomasin he might have +been seen walking about the garden. Endurance and despair, +equanimity and gloom, the tints of health and the pallor of death, +mingled weirdly in his face. He was now unnaturally silent upon +all of the past that related to his mother; and though Eustacia +knew that he was thinking of it none the less, she was only too +glad to escape the topic ever to bring it up anew. When his mind +had been weaker his heart had led him to speak out; but reason +having now somewhat recovered itself he sank into taciturnity.</p> + +<p>One evening when he was thus standing in the garden, abstractedly +spudding up a weed with his stick, a bony figure turned the corner +of the house and came up to him.</p> + +<p>"Christian, isn't it?" said Clym. "I am glad you have found me +out. I shall soon want you to go to Blooms-End and assist me in +putting the house in order. I suppose it is all locked up as I +left it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mister Clym."</p> + +<p>"Have you dug up the potatoes and other roots?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, without a drop o' rain, thank God. But I was coming to tell +'ee of something else which is quite different from what we have +lately had in the family. I am sent by the rich gentleman at the +Woman, that we used to call the landlord, to tell 'ee that Mrs. +Wildeve is doing well of a girl, which was born punctually at one +o'clock at noon, or a few minutes more or less; and 'tis said that +expecting of this increase is what have kept 'em there since they +came into their money."</p> + +<p>"And she is getting on well, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Only Mr. Wildeve is twanky because 'tisn't a +boy—that's what they say in the kitchen, but I was not supposed +to notice that."</p> + +<p>"Christian, now listen to me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sure, Mr. Yeobright."</p> + +<p>"Did you see my mother the day before she died?"</p> + +<p>"No, I did not."</p> + +<p>Yeobright's face expressed disappointment.</p> + +<p>"But I zeed her the morning of the same day she died."</p> + +<p>Clym's look lighted up. "That's nearer still to my meaning," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know 'twas the same day; for she said, 'I be going to see +him, Christian; so I shall not want any vegetables brought in for +dinner.'"</p> + +<p>"See whom?"</p> + +<p>"See you. She was going to your house, you understand."</p> + +<p>Yeobright regarded Christian with intense surprise. "Why did you +never mention this?" he said. "Are you sure it was my house she +was coming to?"</p> + +<p>"O yes. I didn't mention it because I've never zeed you lately. +And as she didn't get there it was all nought, and nothing to +tell."</p> + +<p>"And I have been wondering why she should have walked in the heath +on that hot day! Well, did she say what she was coming for? It is +a thing, Christian, I am very anxious to know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mister Clym. She didn't say it to me, though I think she did +to one here and there."</p> + +<p>"Do you know one person to whom she spoke of it?"</p> + +<p>"There is one man, please, sir, but I hope you won't mention my +name to him, as I have seen him in strange places, particular in +dreams. One night last summer he glared at me like Famine and +Sword, and it made me feel so low that I didn't comb out my few +hairs for two days. He was standing, as it might be, Mister +Yeobright, in the middle of the path to Mistover, and your mother +came up, looking as pale—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, when was that?"</p> + +<p>"Last summer, in my dream."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! Who's the man?"</p> + +<p>"Diggory, the reddleman. He called upon her and sat with her the +evening before she set out to see you. I hadn't gone home from +work when he came up to the gate."</p> + +<p>"I must see Venn—I wish I had known it before," said Clym +anxiously. "I wonder why he has not come to tell me?"</p> + +<p>"He went out of Egdon Heath the next day, so would not be likely +to know you wanted him."</p> + +<p>"Christian," said Clym, "you must go and find Venn. I am otherwise +engaged, or I would go myself. Find him at once, and tell him I +want to speak to him."</p> + +<p>"I am a good hand at hunting up folk by day," said Christian, +looking dubiously round at the declining light; "but as to +nighttime, never is such a bad hand as I, Mister Yeobright."</p> + +<p>"Search the heath when you will, so that you bring him soon. Bring +him tomorrow, if you can."</p> + +<p>Christian then departed. The morrow came, but no Venn. In the +evening Christian arrived, looking very weary. He had been +searching all day, and had heard nothing of the reddleman.</p> + +<p>"Inquire as much as you can tomorrow without neglecting your +work," said Yeobright. "Don't come again till you have found him."</p> + +<p>The next day Yeobright set out for the old house at Blooms-End, +which, with the garden, was now his own. His severe illness had +hindered all preparations for his removal thither; but it had +become necessary that he should go and overlook its contents, as +administrator to his mother's little property; for which purpose +he decided to pass the next night on the premises.</p> + +<p>He journeyed onward, not quickly or decisively, but in the slow +walk of one who has been awakened from a stupefying sleep. It was +early afternoon when he reached the valley. The expression of the +place, the tone of the hour, were precisely those of many such +occasions in days gone by; and these antecedent similarities +fostered the illusion that she, who was there no longer, would +come out to welcome him. The garden gate was locked and the +shutters were closed, just as he himself had left them on the +evening after the funeral. He unlocked the gate, and found that a +spider had already constructed a large web, tying the door to the +lintel, on the supposition that it was never to be opened again. +When he had entered the house and flung back the shutters he set +about his task of overhauling the cupboards and closets, burning +papers, and considering how best to arrange the place for +Eustacia's reception, until such time as he might be in a position +to carry out his long-delayed scheme, should that time ever +arrive.</p> + +<p>As he surveyed the rooms he felt strongly disinclined for the +alterations which would have to be made in the time-honoured +furnishing of his parents and grandparents, to suit Eustacia's +modern ideas. The gaunt oak-cased clock, with the picture of the +Ascension on the door-panel and the Miraculous Draught of Fishes +on the base; his grandmother's corner cupboard with the glass +door, through which the spotted china was visible; the +dumb-waiter; the wooden tea-trays; the hanging fountain with the +brass tap—whither would these venerable articles have to be +banished?</p> + +<p>He noticed that the flowers in the window had died for want of +water, and he placed them out upon the ledge, that they might be +taken away. While thus engaged he heard footsteps on the gravel +without, and somebody knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>Yeobright opened it, and Venn was standing before him.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," said the reddleman. "Is Mrs. Yeobright at home?"</p> + +<p>Yeobright looked upon the ground. "Then you have not seen +Christian or any of the Egdon folks?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No. I have only just returned after a long stay away. I called +here the day before I left."</p> + +<p>"And you have heard nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"My mother is—dead."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said Venn mechanically.</p> + +<p>"Her home now is where I shouldn't mind having mine."</p> + +<p>Venn regarded him, and then said, "If I didn't see your face I +could never believe your words. Have you been ill?"</p> + +<p>"I had an illness."</p> + +<p>"Well, the change! When I parted from her a month ago everything +seemed to say that she was going to begin a new life."</p> + +<p>"And what seemed came true."</p> + +<p>"You say right, no doubt. Trouble has taught you a deeper vein of +talk than mine. All I meant was regarding her life here. She has +died too soon."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps through my living too long. I have had a bitter +experience on that score this last month, Diggory. But come in; I +have been wanting to see you."</p> + +<p>He conducted the reddleman into the large room where the dancing +had taken place the previous Christmas; and they sat down in the +settle together. "There's the cold fireplace, you see," said Clym. +"When that half-burnt log and those cinders were alight she was +alive! Little has been changed here yet. I can do nothing. My life +creeps like a snail."</p> + +<p>"How came she to die?" said Venn.</p> + +<p>Yeobright gave him some particulars of her illness and death, and +continued: "After this no kind of pain will ever seem more than an +indisposition to me.—I began saying that I wanted to ask you +something, but I stray from subjects like a drunken man. I am +anxious to know what my mother said to you when she last saw you. +You talked with her a long time, I think?"</p> + +<p>"I talked with her more than half an hour."</p> + +<p>"About me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And it must have been on account of what we said that she +was on the heath. Without question she was coming to see you."</p> + +<p>"But why should she come to see me if she felt so bitterly against +me? There's the mystery."</p> + +<p>"Yet I know she quite forgave 'ee."</p> + +<p>"But, Diggory—would a woman, who had quite forgiven her son, say, +when she felt herself ill on the way to his house, that she was +broken-hearted because of his ill-usage? Never!"</p> + +<p>"What I know is that she didn't blame you at all. She blamed +herself for what had happened, only herself. I had it from her own +lips."</p> + +<p>"You had it from her lips that I had <i>not</i> ill-treated her; +and at the same time another had it from her lips that I <i>had</i> +ill-treated her? My mother was no impulsive woman who changed her +opinion every hour without reason. How can it be, Venn, that she +should have told such different stories in close succession?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say. It is certainly odd, when she had forgiven you, and +had forgiven your wife, and was going to see ye on purpose to make +friends."</p> + +<p>"If there was one thing wanting to bewilder me it was this +incomprehensible thing!… Diggory, if we, who remain alive, were +only allowed to hold conversation with the dead—just once, a bare +minute, even through a screen of iron bars, as with persons in +prison—what we might learn! How many who now ride smiling would +hide their heads! And this mystery—I should then be at the bottom +of it at once. But the grave has for ever shut her in; and how +shall it be found out now?"</p> + +<p>No reply was returned by his companion, since none could be given; +and when Venn left, a few minutes later, Clym had passed from the +dullness of sorrow to the fluctuation of carking incertitude.</p> + +<p>He continued in the same state all the afternoon. A bed was made +up for him in the same house by a neighbour, that he might not +have to return again the next day; and when he retired to rest in +the deserted place it was only to remain awake hour after hour +thinking the same thoughts. How to discover a solution to this +riddle of death seemed a query of more importance than highest +problems of the living. There was housed in his memory a vivid +picture of the face of a little boy as he entered the hovel where +Clym's mother lay. The round eyes, eager gaze, the piping voice +which enunciated the words, had operated like stilettos on his +brain.</p> + +<p>A visit to the boy suggested itself as a means of gleaning new +particulars; though it might be quite unproductive. To probe a +child's mind after the lapse of six weeks, not for facts which the +child had seen and understood, but to get at those which were in +their nature beyond him, did not promise much; yet when every +obvious channel is blocked we grope towards the small and obscure. +There was nothing else left to do; after that he would allow the +enigma to drop into the abyss of undiscoverable things.</p> + +<p>It was about daybreak when he had reached this decision, and he at +once arose. He locked up the house and went out into the green +patch which merged in heather further on. In front of the white +garden-palings the path branched into three like a broad-arrow. +The road to the right led to the Quiet Woman and its +neighbourhood; the middle track led to Mistover Knap; the +left-hand track led over the hill to another part of Mistover, +where the child lived. On inclining into the latter path Yeobright +felt a creeping chilliness, familiar enough to most people, and +probably caused by the unsunned morning air. In after days he +thought of it as a thing of singular significance.</p> + +<p>When Yeobright reached the cottage of Susan Nunsuch, the mother of +the boy he sought, he found that the inmates were not yet astir. +But in upland hamlets the transition from a-bed to abroad is +surprisingly swift and easy. There no dense partition of yawns and +toilets divides humanity by night from humanity by day. Yeobright +tapped at the upper window-sill, which he could reach with his +walking-stick; and in three or four minutes the woman came down.</p> + +<p>It was not till this moment that Clym recollected her to be the +person who had behaved so barbarously to Eustacia. It partly +explained the insuavity with which the woman greeted him. +Moreover, the boy had been ailing again; and Susan now, as ever +since the night when he had been pressed into Eustacia's service +at the bonfire, attributed his indispositions to Eustacia's +influence as a witch. It was one of those sentiments which lurk +like moles underneath the visible surface of manners, and may have +been kept alive by Eustacia's entreaty to the captain, at the time +that he had intended to prosecute Susan for the pricking in +church, to let the matter drop; which he accordingly had done.</p> + +<p>Yeobright overcame his repugnance, for Susan had at least borne +his mother no ill-will. He asked kindly for the boy; but her +manner did not improve.</p> + +<p>"I wish to see him," continued Yeobright, with some hesitation; +"to ask him if he remembers anything more of his walk with my +mother than what he has previously told."</p> + +<p>She regarded him in a peculiar and criticizing manner. To anybody +but a half-blind man it would have said, "You want another of the +knocks which have already laid you so low."</p> + +<p>She called the boy downstairs, asked Clym to sit down on a stool, +and continued, "Now, Johnny, tell Mr. Yeobright anything you can +call to mind."</p> + +<p>"You have not forgotten how you walked with the poor lady on that +hot day?" said Clym.</p> + +<p>"No," said the boy.</p> + +<p>"And what she said to you?"</p> + +<p>The boy repeated the exact words he had used on entering the hut. +Yeobright rested his elbow on the table and shaded his face with +his hand; and the mother looked as if she wondered how a man could +want more of what had stung him so deeply.</p> + +<p>"She was going to Alderworth when you first met her?"</p> + +<p>"No; she was coming away."</p> + +<p>"That can't be."</p> + +<p>"Yes; she walked along with me. I was coming away too."</p> + +<p>"Then where did you first see her?"</p> + +<p>"At your house."</p> + +<p>"Attend, and speak the truth!" said Clym sternly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; at your house was where I seed her first."</p> + +<p>Clym started up, and Susan smiled in an expectant way which did +not embellish her face; it seemed to mean, "Something sinister is +coming!"</p> + +<p>"What did she do at my house?"</p> + +<p>"She went and sat under the trees at the Devil's Bellows."</p> + +<p>"Good God! this is all news to me!"</p> + +<p>"You never told me this before?" said Susan.</p> + +<p>"No, mother; because I didn't like to tell 'ee I had been so far. +I was picking black-hearts, and went further than I meant."</p> + +<p>"What did she do then?" said Yeobright.</p> + +<p>"Looked at a man who came up and went into your house."</p> + +<p>"That was myself—a furze-cutter, with brambles in his hand."</p> + +<p>"No; 'twas not you. 'Twas a gentleman. You had gone in afore."</p> + +<p>"Who was he?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Now tell me what happened next."</p> + +<p>"The poor lady went and knocked at your door, and the lady with +black hair looked out of the side window at her."</p> + +<p>The boy's mother turned to Clym and said, "This is something you +didn't expect?"</p> + +<p>Yeobright took no more notice of her than if he had been of stone. +"Go on, go on," he said hoarsely to the boy.</p> + +<p>"And when she saw the young lady look out of the window the old +lady knocked again; and when nobody came she took up the +furze-hook and looked at it, and put it down again, and then she +looked at the faggot-bonds; and then she went away, and walked +across to me, and blowed her breath very hard, like this. We +walked on together, she and I, and I talked to her and she talked +to me a bit, but not much, because she couldn't blow her breath."</p> + +<p>"O!" murmured Clym, in a low tone, and bowed his head. "Let's have +more," he said.</p> + +<p>"She couldn't talk much, and she couldn't walk; and her face was, +O so queer!"</p> + +<p>"How was her face?"</p> + +<p>"Like yours is now."</p> + +<p>The woman looked at Yeobright, and beheld him colourless, in a +cold sweat. "Isn't there meaning in it?" she said stealthily. +"What do you think of her now?"</p> + +<p>"Silence!" said Clym fiercely. And, turning to the boy, "And then +you left her to die?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the woman, quickly and angrily. "He did not leave her +to die! She sent him away. Whoever says he forsook her says what's +not true."</p> + +<p>"Trouble no more about that," answered Clym, with a quivering +mouth. "What he did is a trifle in comparison with what he saw. +Door kept shut, did you say? Kept shut, she looking out of window? +Good heart of God!—what does it mean?"</p> + +<p>The child shrank away from the gaze of his questioner.</p> + +<p>"He said so," answered the mother, "and Johnny's a God-fearing boy +and tells no lies."</p> + +<p>"'Cast off by my son!' No, by my best life, dear mother, it is not +so! But by your son's, your son's—May all murderesses get the +torment they deserve!"</p> + +<p>With these words Yeobright went forth from the little dwelling. +The pupils of his eyes, fixed steadfastly on blankness, were +vaguely lit with an icy shine; his mouth had passed into the phase +more or less imaginatively rendered in studies of Oedipus. The +strangest deeds were possible to his mood. But they were not +possible to his situation. Instead of there being before him the +pale face of Eustacia, and a masculine shape unknown, there was +only the imperturbable countenance of the heath, which, having +defied the cataclysmal onsets of centuries, reduced to +insignificance by its seamed and antique features the wildest +turmoil of a single man.</p> + + +<p><a name="5-3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III</h3> +<h3>Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning<br /> </h3> + + +<p>A consciousness of a vast impassivity in all which lay around him +took possession even of Yeobright in his wild walk towards +Alderworth. He had once before felt in his own person this +overpowering of the fervid by the inanimate; but then it had +tended to enervate a passion far sweeter than that which at +present pervaded him. It was once when he stood parting from +Eustacia in the moist still levels beyond the hills.</p> + +<p>But dismissing all this he went onward home, and came to the front +of his house. The blinds of Eustacia's bedroom were still closely +drawn, for she was no early riser. All the life visible was in the +shape of a solitary thrush cracking a small snail upon the +door-stone for his breakfast, and his tapping seemed a loud noise +in the general silence which prevailed; but on going to the door +Clym found it unfastened, the young girl who attended upon +Eustacia being astir in the back part of the premises. Yeobright +entered and went straight to his wife's room.</p> + +<p>The noise of his arrival must have aroused her, for when he opened +the door she was standing before the looking-glass in her +night-dress, the ends of her hair gathered into one hand, with +which she was coiling the whole mass round her head, previous to +beginning toilette operations. She was not a woman given to +speaking first at a meeting, and she allowed Clym to walk across +in silence, without turning her head. He came behind her, and she +saw his face in the glass. It was ashy, haggard, and terrible. +Instead of starting towards him in sorrowful surprise, as even +Eustacia, undemonstrative wife as she was, would have done in days +before she burdened herself with a secret, she remained +motionless, looking at him in the glass. And while she looked the +carmine flush with which warmth and sound sleep had suffused her +cheeks and neck dissolved from view, and the deathlike pallor in +his face flew across into hers. He was close enough to see this, +and the sight instigated his tongue.</p> + +<p>"You know what is the matter," he said huskily. "I see it in your +face."</p> + +<p>Her hand relinquished the rope of hair and dropped to her side, +and the pile of tresses, no longer supported, fell from the crown +of her head about her shoulders and over the white night-gown. She +made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Speak to me," said Yeobright peremptorily.</p> + +<p>The blanching process did not cease in her, and her lips now +became as white as her face. She turned to him and said, "Yes, +Clym, I'll speak to you. Why do you return so early? Can I do +anything for you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can listen to me. It seems that my wife is not very +well?"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Your face, my dear; your face. Or perhaps it is the pale morning +light which takes your colour away? Now I am going to reveal a +secret to you. Ha-ha!"</p> + +<p>"O, that is ghastly!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Your laugh."</p> + +<p>"There's reason for ghastliness. Eustacia, you have held my +happiness in the hollow of your hand, and like a devil you have +dashed it down!"</p> + +<p>She started back from the dressing-table, retreated a few steps +from him, and looked him in the face. "Ah! you think to frighten +me," she said, with a slight laugh. "Is it worth while? I am +undefended, and alone."</p> + +<p>"How extraordinary!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"As there is ample time I will tell you, though you know well +enough. I mean that it is extraordinary that you should be alone +in my absence. Tell me, now, where is he who was with you on the +afternoon of the thirty-first of August? Under the bed? Up the +chimney?"</p> + +<p>A shudder overcame her and shook the light fabric of her +night-dress throughout. "I do not remember dates so exactly," she +said. "I cannot recollect that anybody was with me besides +yourself."</p> + +<p>"The day I mean," said Yeobright, his voice growing louder and +harsher, "was the day you shut the door against my mother and +killed her. O, it is too much—too bad!" He leant over the +footpiece of the bedstead for a few moments, with his back towards +her; then rising again: "Tell me, tell me! tell me—do you hear?" +he cried, rushing up to her and seizing her by the loose folds of +her sleeve.</p> + +<p>The superstratum of timidity which often overlies those who are +daring and defiant at heart had been passed through, and the +mettlesome substance of the woman was reached. The red blood +inundated her face, previously so pale.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" she said in a low voice, regarding him +with a proud smile. "You will not alarm me by holding on so; but +it would be a pity to tear my sleeve."</p> + +<p>Instead of letting go he drew her closer to him. "Tell me the +particulars of—my mother's death," he said in a hard, panting +whisper; "or—I'll—I'll—"</p> + +<p>"Clym," she answered slowly, "do you think you dare do anything to +me that I dare not bear? But before you strike me listen. You will +get nothing from me by a blow, even though it should kill me, as +it probably will. But perhaps you do not wish me to speak—killing +may be all you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Kill you! Do you expect it?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"No less degree of rage against me will match your previous grief +for her."</p> + +<p>"Phew—I shall not kill you," he said contemptuously, as if under +a sudden change of purpose. "I did think of it; but—I shall not. +That would be making a martyr of you, and sending you to where she +is; and I would keep you away from her till the universe come to +an end, if I could."</p> + +<p>"I almost wish you would kill me," said she with gloomy +bitterness. "It is with no strong desire, I assure you, that I +play the part I have lately played on earth. You are no blessing, +my husband."</p> + +<p>"You shut the door—you looked out of the window upon her—you had +a man in the house with you—you sent her away to die. The +inhumanity—the treachery—I will not touch you—stand away from +me—and confess every word!"</p> + +<p>"Never! I'll hold my tongue like the very death that I don't mind +meeting, even though I can clear myself of half you believe by +speaking. Yes. I will! Who of any dignity would take the trouble +to clear cobwebs from a wild man's mind after such language as +this? No; let him go on, and think his narrow thoughts, and run +his head into the mire. I have other cares."</p> + +<p>"'Tis too much—but I must spare you."</p> + +<p>"Poor charity."</p> + +<p>"By my wretched soul you sting me, Eustacia! I can keep it up, and +hotly too. Now, then, madam, tell me his name!"</p> + +<p>"Never, I am resolved."</p> + +<p>"How often does he write to you? Where does he put his +letters—when does he meet you? Ah, his letters! Do you tell me +his name?"</p> + +<p>"I do not."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll find it myself." His eyes had fallen upon a small desk +that stood near, on which she was accustomed to write her letters. +He went to it. It was locked.</p> + +<p>"Unlock this!"</p> + +<p>"You have no right to say it. That's mine."</p> + +<p>Without another word he seized the desk and dashed it to the +floor. The hinge burst open, and a number of letters tumbled out.</p> + +<p>"Stay!" said Eustacia, stepping before him with more excitement +than she had hitherto shown.</p> + +<p>"Come, come! stand away! I must see them."</p> + +<p>She looked at the letters as they lay, checked her feeling, and +moved indifferently aside; when he gathered them up, and examined +them.</p> + +<p>By no stretch of meaning could any but a harmless construction be +placed upon a single one of the letters themselves. The solitary +exception was an empty envelope directed to her, and the +handwriting was Wildeve's. Yeobright held it up. Eustacia was +doggedly silent.</p> + +<p>"Can you read, madam? Look at this envelope. Doubtless we shall +find more soon, and what was inside them. I shall no doubt be +gratified by learning in good time what a well-finished and +full-blown adept in a certain trade my lady is."</p> + +<p>"Do you say it to me—do you?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>He searched further, but found nothing more. "What was in this +letter?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Ask the writer. Am I your hound that you should talk to me in +this way?"</p> + +<p>"Do you brave me? do you stand me out, mistress? Answer. Don't +look at me with those eyes as if you would bewitch me again! Sooner +than that I die. You refuse to answer?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't tell you after this, if I were as innocent as the +sweetest babe in heaven!"</p> + +<p>"Which you are not."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I am not absolutely," she replied. "I have not done +what you suppose; but if to have done no harm at all is the only +innocence recognized, I am beyond forgiveness. But I require no +help from your conscience."</p> + +<p>"You can resist, and resist again! Instead of hating you I could, +I think, mourn for and pity you, if you were contrite, and would +confess all. Forgive you I never can. I don't speak of your +lover—I will give you the benefit of the doubt in that matter, +for it only affects me personally. But the other: had you +half-killed <i>me</i>, had it been that you wilfully took the +sight away from these feeble eyes of mine, I could have forgiven +you. But <i>that's</i> too much for nature!"</p> + +<p>"Say no more. I will do without your pity. But I would have saved +you from uttering what you will regret."</p> + +<p>"I am going away now. I shall leave you."</p> + +<p>"You need not go, as I am going myself. You will keep just as far +away from me by staying here."</p> + +<p>"Call her to mind—think of her—what goodness there was in +her: it showed in every line of her face! Most women, even when +but slightly annoyed, show a flicker of evil in some curl of the +mouth or some corner of the cheek; but as for her, never in her +angriest moments was there anything malicious in her look. She was +angered quickly, but she forgave just as readily, and underneath +her pride there was the meekness of a child. What came of +it?—what cared you? You hated her just as she was +learning to love you. O! couldn't you see what was best for you, +but must bring a curse upon me, and agony and death upon her, by +doing that cruel deed! What was the fellow's name who was keeping +you company and causing you to add cruelty to her to your wrong to +me? Was it Wildeve? Was it poor Thomasin's husband? Heaven, what +wickedness! Lost your voice, have you? It is natural after +detection of that most noble trick… Eustacia, didn't any tender +thought of your own mother lead you to think of being gentle to +mine at such a time of weariness? Did not one grain of pity enter +your heart as she turned away? Think what a vast opportunity was +then lost of beginning a forgiving and honest course. Why did not +you kick him out, and let her in, and say I'll be an honest wife +and a noble woman from this hour? Had I told you to go and quench +eternally our last flickering chance of happiness here you could +have done no worse. Well, she's asleep now; and have you a hundred +gallants, neither they nor you can insult her any more."</p> + +<p>"You exaggerate fearfully," she said in a faint, weary voice; "but +I cannot enter into my defence—it is not worth doing. You are +nothing to me in future, and the past side of the story may as +well remain untold. I have lost all through you, but I have not +complained. Your blunders and misfortunes may have been a sorrow +to you, but they have been a wrong to me. All persons of +refinement have been scared away from me since I sank into the +mire of marriage. Is this your cherishing—to put me into a hut +like this, and keep me like the wife of a hind? You deceived +me—not by words, but by appearances, which are less seen through +than words. But the place will serve as well as any other—as +somewhere to pass from—into my grave." Her words were smothered +in her throat, and her head drooped down.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by that. Am I the cause of your sin?" +(Eustacia made a trembling motion towards him.) "What, you can +begin to shed tears and offer me your hand? Good God! can you? No, +not I. I'll not commit the fault of taking that." (The hand she +had offered dropped nervelessly, but the tears continued flowing.) +"Well, yes, I'll take it, if only for the sake of my own foolish +kisses that were wasted there before I knew what I cherished. How +bewitched I was! How could there be any good in a woman that +everybody spoke ill of?"</p> + +<p>"O, O, O!" she cried, breaking down at last; and, shaking with +sobs which choked her, she sank upon her knees. "O, will you have +done! O, you are too relentless—there's a limit to the cruelty of +savages! I have held out long—but you crush me down. I beg for +mercy—I cannot bear this any longer—it is inhuman to go further +with this! If I had—killed your—mother with my own hand—I +should not deserve such a scourging to the bone as this. O, O! God +have mercy upon a miserable woman!… You have beaten me in +this game—I beg you to stay your hand in pity!… I confess that +I—wilfully did not undo the door the first time she +knocked—but—I—should have unfastened it the second—if I had not +thought you had gone to do it yourself. When I found you had not I +opened it, but she was gone. That's the extent of my +crime—towards <i>her</i>. Best natures commit bad faults sometimes, +don't they?—I think they do. Now I will leave you—for ever and +ever!"</p> + +<p>"Tell all, and I <i>will</i> pity you. Was the man in the +house with you Wildeve?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," she said desperately through her sobbing. "Don't +insist further—I cannot tell. I am going from this house. We +cannot both stay here."</p> + +<p>"You need not go: I will go. You can stay here."</p> + +<p>"No, I will dress, and then I will go."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Where I came from, or <i>else</i>where."</p> + +<p>She hastily dressed herself, Yeobright moodily walking up and down +the room the whole of the time. At last all her things were on. +Her little hands quivered so violently as she held them to her +chin to fasten her bonnet that she could not tie the strings, and +after a few moments she relinquished the attempt. Seeing this he +moved forward and said, "Let me tie them."</p> + +<p>She assented in silence, and lifted her chin. For once at least in +her life she was totally oblivious of the charm of her attitude. +But he was not, and he turned his eyes aside, that he might not be +tempted to softness.</p> + +<p>The strings were tied; she turned from him. "Do you still prefer +going away yourself to my leaving you?" he inquired again.</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Very well—let it be. And when you will confess to the man I may +pity you."</p> + +<p>She flung her shawl about her and went downstairs, leaving him +standing in the room.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Eustacia had not long been gone when there came a knock at the +door of the bedroom; and Yeobright said, "Well?"</p> + +<p>It was the servant; and she replied, "Somebody from Mrs. Wildeve's +have called to tell 'ee that the mis'ess and the baby are getting +on wonderful well, and the baby's name is to be Eustacia +Clementine." And the girl retired.</p> + +<p>"What a mockery!" said Clym. "This unhappy marriage of mine to be +perpetuated in that child's name!"</p> + + +<p><a name="5-4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<h3>The Ministrations of a Half-Forgotten One<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Eustacia's journey was at first as vague in direction as that of +thistledown on the wind. She did not know what to do. She wished +it had been night instead of morning, that she might at least have +borne her misery without the possibility of being seen. Tracing +mile after mile along between the dying ferns and the wet white +spiders' webs, she at length turned her steps towards her +grandfather's house. She found the front door closed and locked. +Mechanically she went round to the end where the stable was, and +on looking in at the stable-door she saw Charley standing within.</p> + +<p>"Captain Vye is not at home?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," said the lad in a flutter of feeling; "he's gone to +Weatherbury, and won't be home till night. And the servant is gone +home for a holiday. So the house is locked up."</p> + +<p>Eustacia's face was not visible to Charley as she stood at the +doorway, her back being to the sky, and the stable but +indifferently lighted; but the wildness of her manner arrested his +attention. She turned and walked away across the enclosure to the +gate, and was hidden by the bank.</p> + +<p>When she had disappeared Charley, with misgiving in his eyes, +slowly came from the stable door, and going to another point in +the bank he looked over. Eustacia was leaning against it on the +outside, her face covered with her hands, and her head pressing +the dewy heather which bearded the bank's outer side. She appeared +to be utterly indifferent to the circumstance that her bonnet, +hair, and garments were becoming wet and disarranged by the +moisture of her cold, harsh pillow. Clearly something was wrong.</p> + +<p>Charley had always regarded Eustacia as Eustacia had regarded Clym +when she first beheld him—as a romantic and sweet vision, +scarcely incarnate. He had been so shut off from her by the +dignity of her look and the pride of her speech, except at that +one blissful interval when he was allowed to hold her hand, that +he had hardly deemed her a woman, wingless and earthly, subject to +household conditions and domestic jars. The inner details of her +life he had only conjectured. She had been a lovely wonder, +predestined to an orbit in which the whole of his own was but a +point; and this sight of her leaning like a helpless, despairing +creature against a wild wet bank filled him with an amazed horror. +He could no longer remain where he was. Leaping over, he came up, +touched her with his finger, and said tenderly, "You are poorly, +ma'am. What can I do?"</p> + +<p>Eustacia started up, and said, "Ah, Charley—you have followed me. +You did not think when I left home in the summer that I should +come back like this!"</p> + +<p>"I did not, dear ma'am. Can I help you now?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not. I wish I could get into the house. I feel +giddy—that's all."</p> + +<p>"Lean on my arm, ma'am, till we get to the porch, and I will try +to open the door."</p> + +<p>He supported her to the porch, and there depositing her on a seat +hastened to the back, climbed to a window by the help of a ladder, +and descending inside opened the door. Next he assisted her into +the room, where there was an old-fashioned horsehair settee as +large as a donkey-waggon. She lay down here, and Charley covered +her with a cloak he found in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Shall I get you something to eat and drink?" he said.</p> + +<p>"If you please, Charley. But I suppose there is no fire?"</p> + +<p>"I can light it, ma'am."</p> + +<p>He vanished, and she heard a splitting of wood and a blowing of +bellows; and presently he returned, saying, "I have lighted a fire +in the kitchen, and now I'll light one here."</p> + +<p>He lit the fire, Eustacia dreamily observing him from her couch. +When it was blazing up he said, "Shall I wheel you round in front +of it, ma'am, as the morning is chilly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you like."</p> + +<p>"Shall I go and bring the victuals now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, do," she murmured languidly.</p> + +<p>When he had gone, and the dull sounds occasionally reached her +ears of his movements in the kitchen, she forgot where she was, +and had for a moment to consider by an effort what the sounds +meant. After an interval which seemed short to her whose thoughts +were elsewhere, he came in with a tray on which steamed tea and +toast, though it was nearly lunch-time.</p> + +<p>"Place it on the table," she said. "I shall be ready soon."</p> + +<p>He did so, and retired to the door; when, however, he perceived +that she did not move he came back a few steps.</p> + +<p>"Let me hold it to you, if you don't wish to get up," said +Charley. He brought the tray to the front of the couch, where he +knelt down, adding, "I will hold it for you."</p> + +<p>Eustacia sat up and poured out a cup of tea. "You are very kind to +me, Charley," she murmured as she sipped.</p> + +<p>"Well, I ought to be," said he diffidently, taking great trouble +not to rest his eyes upon her, though this was their only natural +position, Eustacia being immediately before him. "You have been +kind to me."</p> + +<p>"How have I?" said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"You let me hold your hand when you were a maiden at home."</p> + +<p>"Ah, so I did. Why did I do that? My mind is lost—it had to do +with the mumming, had it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you wanted to go in my place."</p> + +<p>"I remember. I do indeed remember—too well!"</p> + +<p>She again became utterly downcast; and Charley, seeing that she +was not going to eat or drink any more, took away the tray.</p> + +<p>Afterwards he occasionally came in to see if the fire was burning, +to ask her if she wanted anything, to tell her that the wind had +shifted from south to west, to ask her if she would like him to +gather her some blackberries; to all which inquiries she replied +in the negative or with indifference.</p> + +<p>She remained on the settee some time longer, when she aroused +herself and went upstairs. The room in which she had formerly +slept still remained much as she had left it, and the recollection +that this forced upon her of her own greatly changed and +infinitely worsened situation again set on her face the +undetermined and formless misery which it had worn on her first +arrival. She peeped into her grandfather's room, through which the +fresh autumn air was blowing from the open window. Her eye was +arrested by what was a familiar sight enough, though it broke upon +her now with a new significance.</p> + +<p>It was a brace of pistols, hanging near the head of her +grandfather's bed, which he always kept there loaded, as a +precaution against possible burglars, the house being very lonely. +Eustacia regarded them long, as if they were the page of a book in +which she read a new and a strange matter. Quickly, like one +afraid of herself, she returned downstairs and stood in deep +thought.</p> + +<p>"If I could only do it!" she said. "It would be doing much good to +myself and all connected with me, and no harm to a single one."</p> + +<p>The idea seemed to gather force within her, and she remained in a +fixed attitude nearly ten minutes, when a certain finality was +expressed in her gaze, and no longer the blankness of indecision.</p> + +<p>She turned and went up the second time—softly and stealthily +now—and entered her grandfather's room, her eyes at once seeking +the head of the bed. The pistols were gone.</p> + +<p>The instant quashing of her purpose by their absence affected her +brain as a sudden vacuum affects the body: she nearly fainted. Who +had done this? There was only one person on the premises besides +herself. Eustacia involuntarily turned to the open window which +overlooked the garden as far as the bank that bounded it. On the +summit of the latter stood Charley, sufficiently elevated by its +height to see into the room. His gaze was directed eagerly and +solicitously upon her.</p> + +<p>She went downstairs to the door and beckoned to him.</p> + +<p>"You have taken them away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Why did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"I saw you looking at them too long."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"You have been heart-broken all the morning, as if you did not +want to live."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"And I could not bear to leave them in your way. There was meaning +in your look at them."</p> + +<p>"Where are they now?"</p> + +<p>"Locked up."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"In the stable."</p> + +<p>"Give them to me."</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You refuse?"</p> + +<p>"I do. I care too much for you to give 'em up."</p> + +<p>She turned aside, her face for the first time softening from the +stony immobility of the earlier day, and the corners of her mouth +resuming something of that delicacy of cut which was always lost +in her moments of despair. At last she confronted him again.</p> + +<p>"Why should I not die if I wish?" she said tremulously. "I have +made a bad bargain with life, and I am weary of it—weary. And now +you have hindered my escape. O, why did you, Charley! What makes +death painful except the thought of others' grief?—and that is +absent in my case, for not a sigh would follow me!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is trouble that has done this! I wish in my very soul that +he who brought it about might die and rot, even if 'tis +transportation to say it!"</p> + +<p>"Charley, no more of that. What do you mean to do about this you +have seen?"</p> + +<p>"Keep it close as night, if you promise not to think of it again."</p> + +<p>"You need not fear. The moment has passed. I promise." She then +went away, entered the house, and lay down.</p> + +<p>Later in the afternoon her grandfather returned. He was about to +question her categorically; but on looking at her he withheld his +words.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is too bad to talk of," she slowly returned in answer to +his glance. "Can my old room be got ready for me tonight, +grandfather? I shall want to occupy it again."</p> + +<p>He did not ask what it all meant, or why she had left her husband, +but ordered the room to be prepared.</p> + + +<p><a name="5-5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V</h3> +<h3>An Old Move Inadvertently Repeated<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Charley's attentions to his former mistress were unbounded. The +only solace to his own trouble lay in his attempts to relieve +hers. Hour after hour he considered her wants: he thought of her +presence there with a sort of gratitude, and, while uttering +imprecations on the cause of her unhappiness, in some measure +blessed the result. Perhaps she would always remain there, he +thought, and then he would be as happy as he had been before. His +dread was lest she should think fit to return to Alderworth, and +in that dread his eyes, with all the inquisitiveness of affection, +frequently sought her face when she was not observing him, as he +would have watched the head of a stockdove to learn if it +contemplated flight. Having once really succoured her, and +possibly preserved her from the rashest of acts, he mentally +assumed in addition a guardian's responsibility for her welfare.</p> + +<p>For this reason he busily endeavoured to provide her with pleasant +distractions, bringing home curious objects which he found in the +heath, such as white trumpet-shaped mosses, red-headed lichens, +stone arrow-heads used by the old tribes on Egdon, and faceted +crystals from the hollows of flints. These he deposited on the +premises in such positions that she should see them as if by +accident.</p> + +<p>A week passed, Eustacia never going out of the house. Then she +walked into the enclosed plot and looked through her grandfather's +spy-glass, as she had been in the habit of doing before her +marriage. One day she saw, at a place where the high-road crossed +the distant valley, a heavily laden waggon passing along. It was +piled with household furniture. She looked again and again, and +recognized it to be her own. In the evening her grandfather came +indoors with a rumour that Yeobright had removed that day from +Alderworth to the old house at Blooms-End.</p> + +<p>On another occasion when reconnoitring thus she beheld two female +figures walking in the vale. The day was fine and clear; and the +persons not being more than half a mile off she could see their +every detail with the telescope. The woman walking in front +carried a white bundle in her arms, from one end of which hung a +long appendage of drapery; and when the walkers turned, so that +the sun fell more directly upon them, Eustacia could see that the +object was a baby. She called Charley, and asked him if he knew +who they were, though she well guessed.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wildeve and the nurse-girl," said Charley.</p> + +<p>"The nurse is carrying the baby?" said Eustacia.</p> + +<p>"No, 'tis Mrs. Wildeve carrying that," he answered, "and the nurse +walks behind carrying nothing."</p> + +<p>The lad was in good spirits that day, for the Fifth of November +had again come round, and he was planning yet another scheme to +divert her from her too absorbing thoughts. For two successive +years his mistress had seemed to take pleasure in lighting a +bonfire on the bank overlooking the valley; but this year she had +apparently quite forgotten the day and the customary deed. He was +careful not to remind her, and went on with his secret +preparations for a cheerful surprise, the more zealously that he +had been absent last time and unable to assist. At every vacant +minute he hastened to gather furze-stumps, thorn-tree roots, and +other solid materials from the adjacent slopes, hiding them from +cursory view.</p> + +<p>The evening came, and Eustacia was still seemingly unconscious of +the anniversary. She had gone indoors after her survey through the +glass, and had not been visible since. As soon as it was quite +dark Charley began to build the bonfire, choosing precisely that +spot on the bank which Eustacia had chosen at previous times.</p> + +<p>When all the surrounding bonfires had burst into existence Charley +kindled his, and arranged its fuel so that it should not require +tending for some time. He then went back to the house, and +lingered round the door and windows till she should by some means +or other learn of his achievement and come out to witness it. But +the shutters were closed, the door remained shut, and no heed +whatever seemed to be taken of his performance. Not liking to call +her he went back and replenished the fire, continuing to do this +for more than half an hour. It was not till his stock of fuel had +greatly diminished that he went to the back door and sent in to +beg that Mrs. Yeobright would open the window-shutters and see the +sight outside.</p> + +<p>Eustacia, who had been sitting listlessly in the parlour, started +up at the intelligence and flung open the shutters. Facing her on +the bank blazed the fire, which at once sent a ruddy glare into +the room where she was, and overpowered the candles.</p> + +<p>"Well done, Charley!" said Captain Vye from the chimney-corner. +"But I hope it is not my wood that he's burning… Ah, it was +this time last year that I met with that man Venn, bringing home +Thomasin Yeobright—to be sure it was! Well, who would have +thought that girl's troubles would have ended so well? What a +snipe you were in that matter, Eustacia! Has your husband written +to you yet?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Eustacia, looking vaguely through the window at the +fire, which just then so much engaged her mind that she did not +resent her grandfather's blunt opinion. She could see Charley's +form on the bank, shovelling and stirring the fire; and there +flashed upon her imagination some other form which that fire might +call up.</p> + +<p>She left the room, put on her garden-bonnet and cloak, and went +out. Reaching the bank, she looked over with a wild curiosity and +misgiving, when Charley said to her, with a pleased sense of +himself, "I made it o' purpose for you, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said hastily. "But I wish you to put it out now."</p> + +<p>"It will soon burn down," said Charley, rather disappointed. "Is +it not a pity to knock it out?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she musingly answered.</p> + +<p>They stood in silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames, +till Charley, perceiving that she did not want to talk to him, +moved reluctantly away.</p> + +<p>Eustacia remained within the bank looking at the fire, intending +to go indoors, yet lingering still. Had she not by her situation +been inclined to hold in indifference all things honoured of the +gods and of men she would probably have come away. But her state +was so hopeless that she could play with it. To have lost is less +disturbing than to wonder if we may possibly have won: and +Eustacia could now, like other people at such a stage, take a +standing-point outside herself, observe herself as a disinterested +spectator, and think what a sport for Heaven this woman Eustacia +was.</p> + +<p>While she stood she heard a sound. It was the splash of a stone in +the pond.</p> + +<p>Had Eustacia received the stone full in the bosom her heart could +not have given a more decided thump. She had thought of the +possibility of such a signal in answer to that which had been +unwittingly given by Charley; but she had not expected it yet. How +prompt Wildeve was! Yet how could he think her capable of +deliberately wishing to renew their assignations now? An impulse +to leave the spot, a desire to stay, struggled within her; and the +desire held its own. More than that it did not do, for she +refrained even from ascending the bank and looking over. She +remained motionless, not disturbing a muscle of her face or +raising her eyes; for were she to turn up her face the fire on the +bank would shine upon it, and Wildeve might be looking down.</p> + +<p>There was a second splash into the pond.</p> + +<p>Why did he stay so long without advancing and looking over? +Curiosity had its way: she ascended one or two of the earth-steps +in the bank and glanced out.</p> + +<p>Wildeve was before her. He had come forward after throwing the +last pebble, and the fire now shone into each of their faces from +the bank stretching breast-high between them.</p> + +<p>"I did not light it!" cried Eustacia quickly. "It was lit without +my knowledge. Don't, don't come over to me!"</p> + +<p>"Why have you been living here all these days without telling me? +You have left your home. I fear I am something to blame for this?"</p> + +<p>"I did not let in his mother; that's how it is!"</p> + +<p>"You do not deserve what you have got, Eustacia; you are in great +misery; I see it in your eyes, your mouth, and all over you. My +poor, poor girl!" He stepped over the bank. "You are beyond +everything unhappy!"</p> + +<p>"No, no; not exactly—"</p> + +<p>"It has been pushed too far—it is killing you: I do think it!"</p> + +<p>Her usually quiet breathing had grown quicker with his words. +"I—I—" she began, and then burst into quivering sobs, shaken to +the very heart by the unexpected voice of pity—a sentiment whose +existence in relation to herself she had almost forgotten.</p> + +<p>This outbreak of weeping took Eustacia herself so much by surprise +that she could not leave off, and she turned aside from him in +some shame, though turning hid nothing from him. She sobbed on +desperately; then the outpour lessened, and she became quieter. +Wildeve had resisted the impulse to clasp her, and stood without +speaking.</p> + +<p>"Are you not ashamed of me, who used never to be a crying animal?" +she asked in a weak whisper as she wiped her eyes. "Why didn't you +go away? I wish you had not seen quite all that; it reveals too +much by half."</p> + +<p>"You might have wished it, because it makes me as sad as you," he +said with emotion and deference. "As for revealing—the word is +impossible between us two."</p> + +<p>"I did not send for you—don't forget it, Damon; I am in pain, but +I did not send for you! As a wife, at least, I've been straight."</p> + +<p>"Never mind—I came. O, Eustacia, forgive me for the harm I have +done you in these two past years! I see more and more that I have +been your ruin."</p> + +<p>"Not you. This place I live in."</p> + +<p>"Ah, your generosity may naturally make you say that. But I am the +culprit. I should either have done more or nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"I ought never to have hunted you out, or, having done it, I ought +to have persisted in retaining you. But of course I have no right +to talk of that now. I will only ask this: can I do anything for +you? Is there anything on the face of the earth that a man can do +to make you happier than you are at present? If there is, I will +do it. You may command me, Eustacia, to the limit of my influence; +and don't forget that I am richer now. Surely something can be +done to save you from this! Such a rare plant in such a wild place +it grieves me to see. Do you want anything bought? Do you want to +go anywhere? Do you want to escape the place altogether? Only say +it, and I'll do anything to put an end to those tears, which but +for me would never have been at all."</p> + +<p>"We are each married to another person," she said faintly; "and +assistance from you would have an evil sound—after—after—"</p> + +<p>"Well, there's no preventing slanderers from having their fill at +any time; but you need not be afraid. Whatever I may feel I +promise you on my word of honour never to speak to you about—or +act upon—until you say I may. I know my duty to Thomasin quite as +well as I know my duty to you as a woman unfairly treated. What +shall I assist you in?"</p> + +<p>"In getting away from here."</p> + +<p>"Where do you wish to go to?"</p> + +<p>"I have a place in my mind. If you could help me as far as +Budmouth I can do all the rest. Steamers sail from there across +the Channel, and so I can get to Paris, where I want to be. Yes," +she pleaded earnestly, "help me to get to Budmouth harbour without +my grandfather's or my husband's knowledge, and I can do all the +rest."</p> + +<p>"Will it be safe to leave you there alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. I know Budmouth well."</p> + +<p>"Shall I go with you? I am rich now."</p> + +<p>She was silent.</p> + +<p>"Say yes, sweet!"</p> + +<p>She was silent still.</p> + +<p>"Well, let me know when you wish to go. We shall be at our present +house till December; after that we remove to Casterbridge. Command +me in anything till that time."</p> + +<p>"I will think of this," she said hurriedly. "Whether I can +honestly make use of you as a friend, or must close with you as a +lover—that is what I must ask myself. If I wish to go and decide +to accept your company I will signal to you some evening at eight +o'clock punctually, and this will mean that you are to be ready +with a horse and trap at twelve o'clock the same night to drive me +to Budmouth harbour in time for the morning boat."</p> + +<p>"I will look out every night at eight, and no signal shall escape +me."</p> + +<p>"Now please go away. If I decide on this escape I can only meet +you once more unless—I cannot go without you. Go—I cannot bear +it longer. Go—go!"</p> + +<p>Wildeve slowly went up the steps and descended into the darkness +on the other side; and as he walked he glanced back, till the bank +blotted out her form from his further view.</p> + + +<p><a name="5-6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI</h3> +<h3>Thomasin Argues with Her Cousin, +and He Writes a Letter<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Yeobright was at this time at Blooms-End, hoping that Eustacia +would return to him. The removal of furniture had been +accomplished only that day, though Clym had lived in the old house +for more than a week. He had spent the time in working about the +premises, sweeping leaves from the garden-paths, cutting dead +stalks from the flower-beds, and nailing up creepers which had +been displaced by the autumn winds. He took no particular pleasure +in these deeds, but they formed a screen between himself and +despair. Moreover, it had become a religion with him to preserve +in good condition all that had lapsed from his mother's hands to +his own.</p> + +<p>During these operations he was constantly on the watch for +Eustacia. That there should be no mistake about her knowing where +to find him he had ordered a notice board to be affixed to the +garden gate at Alderworth, signifying in white letters whither he +had removed. When a leaf floated to the earth he turned his head, +thinking it might be her footfall. A bird searching for worms in +the mould of the flower-beds sounded like her hand on the latch of +the gate; and at dusk, when soft, strange ventriloquisms came from +holes in the ground, hollow stalks, curled dead leaves, and other +crannies wherein breezes, worms, and insects can work their will, +he fancied that they were Eustacia, standing without and breathing +wishes of reconciliation.</p> + +<p>Up to this hour he had persevered in his resolve not to invite her +back. At the same time the severity with which he had treated her +lulled the sharpness of his regret for his mother, and awoke some +of his old solicitude for his mother's supplanter. Harsh feelings +produce harsh usage, and this by reaction quenches the sentiments +that gave it birth. The more he reflected the more he softened. +But to look upon his wife as innocence in distress was impossible, +though he could ask himself whether he had given her quite time +enough—if he had not come a little too suddenly upon her on that +sombre morning.</p> + +<p>Now that the first flush of his anger had paled he was disinclined +to ascribe to her more than an indiscreet friendship with Wildeve, +for there had not appeared in her manner the signs of dishonour. +And this once admitted, an absolutely dark interpretation of her +act towards his mother was no longer forced upon him.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the fifth November his thoughts of Eustacia were +intense. Echoes from those past times when they had exchanged +tender words all the day long came like the diffused murmur of a +seashore left miles behind. "Surely," he said, "she might have +brought herself to communicate with me before now, and confess +honestly what Wildeve was to her."</p> + +<p>Instead of remaining at home that night he determined to go and +see Thomasin and her husband. If he found opportunity he would +allude to the cause of the separation between Eustacia and +himself, keeping silence, however, on the fact that there was a +third person in his house when his mother was turned away. If it +proved that Wildeve was innocently there he would doubtless openly +mention it. If he were there with unjust intentions Wildeve, being +a man of quick feeling, might possibly say something to reveal the +extent to which Eustacia was compromised.</p> + +<p>But on reaching his cousin's house he found that only Thomasin was +at home, Wildeve being at that time on his way towards the bonfire +innocently lit by Charley at Mistover. Thomasin then, as always, +was glad to see Clym, and took him to inspect the sleeping baby, +carefully screening the candlelight from the infant's eyes with +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Tamsin, have you heard that Eustacia is not with me +now?" he said when they had sat down again.</p> + +<p>"No," said Thomasin, alarmed.</p> + +<p>"And not that I have left Alderworth?"</p> + +<p>"No. I never hear tidings from Alderworth unless you bring them. +What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Clym in a disturbed voice related to her his visit to Susan +Nunsuch's boy, the revelation he had made, and what had resulted +from his charging Eustacia with having wilfully and heartlessly +done the deed. He suppressed all mention of Wildeve's presence +with her.</p> + +<p>"All this, and I not knowing it!" murmured Thomasin in an +awestruck tone. "Terrible! What could have made her—O, Eustacia! +And when you found it out you went in hot haste to her? Were you +too cruel?—or is she really so wicked as she seems?"</p> + +<p>"Can a man be too cruel to his mother's enemy?"</p> + +<p>"I can fancy so."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then—I'll admit that he can. But now what is to be +done?"</p> + +<p>"Make it up again—if a quarrel so deadly can ever be made up. I +almost wish you had not told me. But do try to be reconciled. +There are ways, after all, if you both wish to."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that we do both wish to make it up," said Clym. "If +she had wished it, would she not have sent to me by this time?"</p> + +<p>"You seem to wish to, and yet you have not sent to her."</p> + +<p>"True; but I have been tossed to and fro in doubt if I ought, +after such strong provocation. To see me now, Thomasin, gives you +no idea of what I have been; of what depths I have descended to in +these few last days. O, it was a bitter shame to shut out my +mother like that! Can I ever forget it, or even agree to see her +again?"</p> + +<p>"She might not have known that anything serious would come of it, +and perhaps she did not mean to keep aunt out altogether."</p> + +<p>"She says herself that she did not. But the fact remains that keep +her out she did."</p> + +<p>"Believe her sorry, and send for her."</p> + +<p>"How if she will not come?"</p> + +<p>"It will prove her guilty, by showing that it is her habit to +nourish enmity. But I do not think that for a moment."</p> + +<p>"I will do this. I will wait for a day or two longer—not longer +than two days certainly; and if she does not send to me in that +time I will indeed send to her. I thought to have seen Wildeve +here tonight. Is he from home?"</p> + +<p>Thomasin blushed a little. "No," she said. "He is merely gone out +for a walk."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't he take you with him? The evening is fine. You want +fresh air as well as he."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't care for going anywhere; besides, there is baby."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Well, I have been thinking whether I should not consult +your husband about this as well as you," said Clym steadily.</p> + +<p>"I fancy I would not," she quickly answered. "It can do no good."</p> + +<p>Her cousin looked her in the face. No doubt Thomasin was ignorant +that her husband had any share in the events of that tragic +afternoon; but her countenance seemed to signify that she +concealed some suspicion or thought of the reputed tender +relations between Wildeve and Eustacia in days gone by.</p> + +<p>Clym, however, could make nothing of it, and he rose to depart, +more in doubt than when he came.</p> + +<p>"You will write to her in a day or two?" said the young woman +earnestly. "I do so hope the wretched separation may come to an +end."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Clym; "I don't rejoice in my present state at all."</p> + +<p>And he left her and climbed over the hill to Blooms-End. Before +going to bed he sat down and wrote the following letter:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Dear +Eustacia</span>,—I must obey my heart without consulting my +reason too closely. Will you come back to me? Do so, and the past +shall never be mentioned. I was too severe; but O, Eustacia, the +provocation! You don't know, you never will know, what those words +of anger cost me which you drew down upon yourself. All that an +honest man can promise you I promise now, which is that from me +you shall never suffer anything on this score again. After all the +vows we have made, Eustacia, I think we had better pass the +remainder of our lives in trying to keep them. Come to me, then, +even if you reproach me. I have thought of your sufferings that +morning on which I parted from you; I know they were genuine, and +they are as much as you ought to bear. Our love must still +continue. Such hearts as ours would never have been given us but +to be concerned with each other. I could not ask you back at +first, Eustacia, for I was unable to persuade myself that he who +was with you was not there as a lover. But if you will come and +explain distracting appearances I do not question that you can +show your honesty to me. Why have you not come before? Do you +think I will not listen to you? Surely not, when you remember the +kisses and vows we exchanged under the summer moon. Return then, +and you shall be warmly welcomed. I can no longer think of you to +your prejudice—I am but too much absorbed in justifying +you.—Your husband as ever,</p> + +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">Clym</span>. + <br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"There," he said, as he laid it in his desk, "that's a good thing +done. If she does not come before tomorrow night I will send it to +her."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, at the house he had just left Thomasin sat sighing +uneasily. Fidelity to her husband had that evening induced her to +conceal all suspicion that Wildeve's interest in Eustacia had not +ended with his marriage. But she knew nothing positive; and though +Clym was her well-beloved cousin there was one nearer to her +still.</p> + +<p>When, a little later, Wildeve returned from his walk to Mistover, +Thomasin said, "Damon, where have you been? I was getting quite +frightened, and thought you had fallen into the river. I dislike +being in the house by myself."</p> + +<p>"Frightened?" he said, touching her cheek as if she were some +domestic animal. "Why, I thought nothing could frighten you. It is +that you are getting proud, I am sure, and don't like living here +since we have risen above our business. Well, it is a tedious +matter, this getting a new house; but I couldn't have set about it +sooner, unless our ten thousand pounds had been a hundred +thousand, when we could have afforded to despise caution."</p> + +<p>"No—I don't mind waiting—I would rather stay here twelve months +longer than run any risk with baby. But I don't like your +vanishing so in the evenings. There's something on your mind—I +know there is, Damon. You go about so gloomily, and look at the +heath as if it were somebody's gaol instead of a nice wild place +to walk in."</p> + +<p>He looked towards her with pitying surprise. "What, do you like +Egdon Heath?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I like what I was born near to; I admire its grim old face."</p> + +<p>"Pooh, my dear. You don't know what you like."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I do. There's only one thing unpleasant about Egdon."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"You never take me with you when you walk there. Why do you wander +so much in it yourself if you so dislike it?"</p> + +<p>The inquiry, though a simple one, was plainly disconcerting, and +he sat down before replying. "I don't think you often see me +there. Give an instance."</p> + +<p>"I will," she answered triumphantly. "When you went out this +evening I thought that as baby was asleep I would see where you +were going to so mysteriously without telling me. So I ran out and +followed behind you. You stopped at the place where the road +forks, looked round at the bonfires, and then said, 'Damn it, I'll +go!' And you went quickly up the left-hand road. Then I stood and +watched you."</p> + +<p>Wildeve frowned, afterwards saying, with a forced smile, "Well, +what wonderful discovery did you make?"</p> + +<p>"There—now you are angry, and we won't talk of this any more." +She went across to him, sat on a footstool, and looked up in his +face.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" he said, "that's how you always back out. We will go +on with it now we have begun. What did you next see? I +particularly want to know."</p> + +<p>"Don't be like that, Damon!" she murmured. "I didn't see anything. +You vanished out of sight, and then I looked round at the bonfires +and came in."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps this is not the only time you have dogged my steps. Are +you trying to find out something bad about me?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all! I have never done such a thing before, and I +shouldn't have done it now if words had not sometimes been dropped +about you."</p> + +<p>"What <i>do</i> you mean?" he impatiently asked.</p> + +<p>"They say—they say you used to go to Alderworth in the evenings, +and it puts into my mind what I have heard about—"</p> + +<p>Wildeve turned angrily and stood up in front of her. "Now," he +said, flourishing his hand in the air, "just out with it, madam! I +demand to know what remarks you have heard."</p> + +<p>"Well, I heard that you used to be very fond of Eustacia—nothing +more than that, though dropped in a bit-by-bit way. You ought not +to be angry!"</p> + +<p>He observed that her eyes were brimming with tears. "Well," he +said, "there is nothing new in that, and of course I don't mean to +be rough towards you, so you need not cry. Now, don't let us speak +of the subject any more."</p> + +<p>And no more was said, Thomasin being glad enough of a reason for +not mentioning Clym's visit to her that evening, and his story.</p> + + +<p><a name="5-7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII</h3> +<h3>The Night of the Sixth of November<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Having resolved on flight Eustacia at times seemed anxious that +something should happen to thwart her own intention. The only +event that could really change her position was the appearance of +Clym. The glory which had encircled him as her lover was departed +now; yet some good simple quality of his would occasionally return +to her memory and stir a momentary throb of hope that he would +again present himself before her. But calmly considered it was not +likely that such a severance as now existed would ever close +up: she would have to live on as a painful object, isolated, and +out of place. She had used to think of the heath alone as an +uncongenial spot to be in; she felt it now of the whole world.</p> + +<p>Towards evening on the sixth her determination to go away again +revived. About four o'clock she packed up anew the few small +articles she had brought in her flight from Alderworth, and also +some belonging to her which had been left here: the whole formed a +bundle not too large to be carried in her hand for a distance of a +mile or two. The scene without grew darker; mud-coloured clouds +bellied downwards from the sky like vast hammocks slung across it, +and with the increase of night a stormy wind arose; but as yet +there was no rain.</p> + +<p>Eustacia could not rest indoors, having nothing more to do, and +she wandered to and fro on the hill, not far from the house she +was soon to leave. In these desultory ramblings she passed the +cottage of Susan Nunsuch, a little lower down than her +grandfather's. The door was ajar, and a riband of bright firelight +fell over the ground without. As Eustacia crossed the firebeams +she appeared for an instant as distinct as a figure in a +phantasmagoria—a creature of light surrounded by an area of +darkness: the moment passed, and she was absorbed in night again.</p> + +<p>A woman who was sitting inside the cottage had seen and recognized +her in that momentary irradiation. This was Susan herself, +occupied in preparing a posset for her little boy, who, often +ailing, was now seriously unwell. Susan dropped the spoon, shook +her fist at the vanished figure, and then proceeded with her work +in a musing, absent way.</p> + +<p>At eight o'clock, the hour at which Eustacia had promised to +signal Wildeve if ever she signalled at all, she looked around the +premises to learn if the coast was clear, went to the furze-rick, +and pulled thence a long-stemmed bough of that fuel. This she +carried to the corner of the bank, and, glancing behind to see if +the shutters were all closed, she struck a light, and kindled the +furze. When it was thoroughly ablaze Eustacia took it by the stem +and waved it in the air above her head till it had burned itself +out.</p> + +<p>She was gratified, if gratification were possible to such a mood, +by seeing a similar light in the vicinity of Wildeve's residence a +minute or two later. Having agreed to keep watch at this hour +every night, in case she should require assistance, this +promptness proved how strictly he had held to his word. Four hours +after the present time, that is, at midnight, he was to be ready +to drive her to Budmouth, as prearranged.</p> + +<p>Eustacia returned to the house. Supper having been got over she +retired early, and sat in her bedroom waiting for the time to go +by. The night being dark and threatening, Captain Vye had not +strolled out to gossip in any cottage or to call at the inn, as +was sometimes his custom on these long autumn nights; and he sat +sipping grog alone downstairs. About ten o'clock there was a knock +at the door. When the servant opened it the rays of the candle +fell upon the form of Fairway.</p> + +<p>"I was a-forced to go to Lower Mistover tonight," he said, "and +Mr. Yeobright asked me to leave this here on my way; but, faith, I +put it in the lining of my hat, and thought no more about it till +I got back and was hasping my gate before going to bed. So I have +run back with it at once."</p> + +<p>He handed in a letter and went his way. The girl brought it to the +captain, who found that it was directed to Eustacia. He turned it +over and over, and fancied that the writing was her husband's, +though he could not be sure. However, he decided to let her have +it at once if possible, and took it upstairs for that purpose; but +on reaching the door of her room and looking in at the keyhole he +found there was no light within, the fact being that Eustacia, +without undressing, had flung herself upon the bed, to rest and +gather a little strength for her coming journey. Her grandfather +concluded from what he saw that he ought not to disturb her; and +descending again to the parlour he placed the letter on the +mantelpiece to give it to her in the morning.</p> + +<p>At eleven o'clock he went to bed himself, smoked for some time in +his bedroom, put out his light at half-past eleven, and then, as +was his invariable custom, pulled up the blind before getting into +bed, that he might see which way the wind blew on opening his eyes +in the morning, his bedroom window commanding a view of the +flagstaff and vane. Just as he had lain down he was surprised to +observe the white pole of the staff flash into existence like a +streak of phosphorus drawn downwards across the shade of night +without. Only one explanation met this—a light had been suddenly +thrown upon the pole from the direction of the house. As everybody +had retired to rest the old man felt it necessary to get out of +bed, open the window softly, and look to the right and left. +Eustacia's bedroom was lighted up, and it was the shine from her +window which had lighted the pole. Wondering what had aroused her, +he remained undecided at the window, and was thinking of fetching +the letter to slip it under her door, when he heard a slight +brushing of garments on the partition dividing his room from the +passage.</p> + +<p>The captain concluded that Eustacia, feeling wakeful, had gone for +a book, and would have dismissed the matter as unimportant if he +had not also heard her distinctly weeping as she passed.</p> + +<p>"She is thinking of that husband of hers," he said to himself. +"Ah, the silly goose! she had no business to marry him. I wonder +if that letter is really his?"</p> + +<p>He arose, threw his boat-cloak round him, opened the door, and +said, "Eustacia!" There was no answer. "Eustacia!" he repeated +louder, "there is a letter on the mantelpiece for you."</p> + +<p>But no response was made to this statement save an imaginary one +from the wind, which seemed to gnaw at the corners of the house, +and the stroke of a few drops of rain upon the windows.</p> + +<p>He went on to the landing, and stood waiting nearly five minutes. +Still she did not return. He went back for a light, and prepared +to follow her; but first he looked into her bedroom. There, on the +outside of the quilt, was the impression of her form, showing that +the bed had not been opened; and, what was more significant, she +had not taken her candlestick downstairs. He was now thoroughly +alarmed; and hastily putting on his clothes he descended to the +front door, which he himself had bolted and locked. It was now +unfastened. There was no longer any doubt that Eustacia had left +the house at this midnight hour; and whither could she have gone? +To follow her was almost impossible. Had the dwelling stood in an +ordinary road, two persons setting out, one in each direction, +might have made sure of overtaking her; but it was a hopeless task +to seek for anybody on a heath in the dark, the practicable +directions for flight across it from any point being as numerous +as the meridians radiating from the pole. Perplexed what to do, he +looked into the parlour, and was vexed to find that the letter +still lay there untouched.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>At half-past eleven, finding that the house was silent, Eustacia +had lighted her candle, put on some warm outer wrappings, taken +her bag in her hand, and, extinguishing the light again, descended +the staircase. When she got into the outer air she found that it +had begun to rain, and as she stood pausing at the door it +increased, threatening to come on heavily. But having committed +herself to this line of action there was no retreating for bad +weather. Even the receipt of Clym's letter would not have stopped +her now. The gloom of the night was funereal; all nature seemed +clothed in crape. The spiky points of the fir trees behind the +house rose into the sky like the turrets and pinnacles of an +abbey. Nothing below the horizon was visible save a light which +was still burning in the cottage of Susan Nunsuch.</p> + +<p>Eustacia opened her umbrella and went out from the enclosure by +the steps over the bank, after which she was beyond all danger of +being perceived. Skirting the pool, she followed the path towards +Rainbarrow, occasionally stumbling over twisted furze-roots, tufts +of rushes, or oozing lumps of fleshy fungi, which at this season +lay scattered about the heath like the rotten liver and lungs of +some colossal animal. The moon and stars were closed up by cloud +and rain to the degree of extinction. It was a night which led the +traveller's thoughts instinctively to dwell on nocturnal scenes of +disaster in the chronicles of the world, on all that is terrible +and dark in history and legend—the last plague of Egypt, the +destruction of Sennacherib's host, the agony in Gethsemane.</p> + +<p>Eustacia at length reached Rainbarrow, and stood still there to +think. Never was harmony more perfect than that between the chaos +of her mind and the chaos of the world without. A sudden +recollection had flashed on her this moment: she had not money +enough for undertaking a long journey. Amid the fluctuating +sentiments of the day her unpractical mind had not dwelt on the +necessity of being well-provided, and now that she thoroughly +realized the condition she sighed bitterly and ceased to stand +erect, gradually crouching down under the umbrella as if she were +drawn into the Barrow by a hand from beneath. Could it be that she +was to remain a captive still? Money: she had never felt its value +before. Even to efface herself from the country means were +required. To ask Wildeve for pecuniary aid without allowing him to +accompany her was impossible to a woman with a shadow of pride +left in her; to fly as his mistress—and she knew that he loved +her—was of the nature of humiliation.</p> + +<p>Anyone who had stood by now would have pitied her, not so much on +account of her exposure to weather, and isolation from all of +humanity except the mouldered remains inside the tumulus; but for +that other form of misery which was denoted by the slightly +rocking movement that her feelings imparted to her person. Extreme +unhappiness weighed visibly upon her. Between the drippings of the +rain from her umbrella to her mantle, from her mantle to the +heather, from the heather to the earth, very similar sounds could +be heard coming from her lips; and the tearfulness of the outer +scene was repeated upon her face. The wings of her soul were +broken by the cruel obstructiveness of all about her; and even had +she seen herself in a promising way of getting to Budmouth, +entering a steamer, and sailing to some opposite port, she would +have been but little more buoyant, so fearfully malignant were +other things. She uttered words aloud. When a woman in such a +situation, neither old, deaf, crazed, nor whimsical, takes upon +herself to sob and soliloquize aloud there is something grievous +the matter.</p> + +<p>"Can I go, can I go?" she moaned. "He's not <i>great</i> enough +for me to give myself to—he does not suffice for my +desire!… If he had been a Saul or a Buonaparte—ah! But +to break my marriage vow for him—it is too poor a +luxury!… And I have no money to go alone! And if I could, +what comfort to me? I must drag on next year, as I +have dragged on this year, and the year after that as before. How +I have tried and tried to be a splendid woman, and how destiny has +been against me!… I do not deserve my lot!" she cried in a +frenzy of bitter revolt. "O, the cruelty of putting me into this +ill-conceived world! I was capable of much; but I have been +injured and blighted and crushed by things beyond my control! O, +how hard it is of Heaven to devise such tortures for me, who have +done no harm to Heaven at all!"</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>The distant light which Eustacia had cursorily observed in leaving +the house came, as she had divined, from the cottage window of +Susan Nunsuch. What Eustacia did not divine was the occupation of +the woman within at that moment. Susan's sight of her passing +figure earlier in the evening, not five minutes after the sick +boy's exclamation, "Mother, I do feel so bad!" persuaded the +matron that an evil influence was certainly exercised by +Eustacia's propinquity.</p> + +<p>On this account Susan did not go to bed as soon as the evening's +work was over, as she would have done at ordinary times. To +counteract the malign spell which she imagined poor Eustacia to be +working, the boy's mother busied herself with a ghastly invention +of superstition, calculated to bring powerlessness, atrophy, and +annihilation on any human being against whom it was directed. It +was a practice well known on Egdon at that date, and one that is +not quite extinct at the present day.</p> + +<p>She passed with her candle into an inner room, where, among other +utensils, were two large brown pans, containing together perhaps a +hundredweight of liquid honey, the produce of the bees during the +foregoing summer. On a shelf over the pans was a smooth and solid +yellow mass of a hemispherical form, consisting of beeswax from +the same take of honey. Susan took down the lump, and cutting off +several thin slices, heaped them in an iron ladle, with which she +returned to the living-room, and placed the vessel in the hot +ashes of the fireplace. As soon as the wax had softened to the +plasticity of dough she kneaded the pieces together. And now her +face became more intent. She began moulding the wax; and it was +evident from her manner of manipulation that she was endeavouring +to give it some preconceived form. The form was human.</p> + +<p>By warming and kneading, cutting and twisting, dismembering and +re-joining the incipient image she had in about a quarter of an +hour produced a shape which tolerably well resembled a woman, and +was about six inches high. She laid it on the table to get cold +and hard. Meanwhile she took the candle and went upstairs to where +the little boy was lying.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice, my dear, what Mrs. Eustacia wore this afternoon +besides the dark dress?"</p> + +<p>"A red ribbon round her neck."</p> + +<p>"Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"No—except sandal-shoes."</p> + +<p>"A red ribbon and sandal-shoes," she said to herself.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Nunsuch went and searched till she found a fragment of the +narrowest red ribbon, which she took downstairs and tied round the +neck of the image. Then fetching ink and a quill from the rickety +bureau by the window, she blackened the feet of the image to the +extent presumably covered by shoes; and on the instep of each foot +marked cross-lines in the shape taken by the sandal-strings of +those days. Finally she tied a bit of black thread round the upper +part of the head, in faint resemblance to a snood worn for +confining the hair.</p> + +<p>Susan held the object at arm's length and contemplated it with a +satisfaction in which there was no smile. To anybody acquainted +with the inhabitants of Egdon Heath the image would have suggested +Eustacia Yeobright.</p> + +<p>From her work-basket in the window-seat the woman took a paper of +pins, of the old long and yellow sort whose heads were disposed +to come off at their first usage. These she began to thrust into +the image in all directions, with apparently excruciating energy. +Probably as many as fifty were thus inserted, some into the head +of the wax model, some into the shoulders, some into the trunk, +some upwards through the soles of the feet, till the figure was +completely permeated with pins.</p> + +<p>She turned to the fire. It had been of turf; and though the high +heap of ashes which turf fires produce was somewhat dark and dead +on the outside, upon raking it abroad with the shovel the inside +of the mass showed a glow of red heat. She took a few pieces of +fresh turf from the chimney-corner and built them together over +the glow, upon which the fire brightened. Seizing with the tongs +the image that she had made of Eustacia, she held it in the heat, +and watched it as it began to waste slowly away. And while she +stood thus engaged there came from between her lips a murmur of +words.</p> + +<p>It was a strange jargon—the Lord's Prayer repeated backwards—the +incantation usual in proceedings for obtaining unhallowed +assistance against an enemy. Susan uttered the lugubrious +discourse three times slowly, and when it was completed the image +had considerably diminished. As the wax dropped into the fire a +long flame arose from the spot, and curling its tongue round the +figure ate still further into its substance. A pin occasionally +dropped with the wax, and the embers heated it red as it lay.</p> + + +<p><a name="5-8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII</h3> +<h3>Rain, Darkness, and Anxious Wanderers<br /> </h3> + + +<p>While the effigy of Eustacia was melting to nothing, and the fair +woman herself was standing on Rainbarrow, her soul in an abyss of +desolation seldom plumbed by one so young, Yeobright sat lonely at +Blooms-End. He had fulfilled his word to Thomasin by sending off +Fairway with the letter to his wife, and now waited with increased +impatience for some sound or signal of her return. Were Eustacia +still at Mistover the very least he expected was that she would +send him back a reply tonight by the same hand; though, to leave +all to her inclination, he had cautioned Fairway not to ask for an +answer. If one were handed to him he was to bring it immediately; +if not, he was to go straight home without troubling to come round +to Blooms-End again that night.</p> + +<p>But secretly Clym had a more pleasing hope. Eustacia might +possibly decline to use her pen—it was rather her way to work +silently—and surprise him by appearing at his door. How fully her +mind was made up to do otherwise he did not know.</p> + +<p>To Clym's regret it began to rain and blow hard as the evening +advanced. The wind rasped and scraped at the corners of the house, +and filliped the eavesdroppings like peas against the panes. He +walked restlessly about the untenanted rooms, stopping strange +noises in windows and doors by jamming splinters of wood into the +casements and crevices, and pressing together the lead-work of the +quarries where it had become loosened from the glass. It was one +of those nights when cracks in the walls of old churches widen, +when ancient stains on the ceilings of decayed manor houses are +renewed and enlarged from the size of a man's hand to an area of +many feet. The little gate in the palings before his dwelling +continually opened and clicked together again, but when he looked +out eagerly nobody was there; it was as if invisible shapes of the +dead were passing in on their way to visit him.</p> + +<p>Between ten and eleven o'clock, finding that neither Fairway nor +anybody else came to him, he retired to rest, and despite his +anxieties soon fell asleep. His sleep, however, was not very +sound, by reason of the expectancy he had given way to, and he was +easily awakened by a knocking which began at the door about an +hour after. Clym arose and looked out of the window. Rain was +still falling heavily, the whole expanse of heath before him +emitting a subdued hiss under the downpour. It was too dark to see +anything at all.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he cried.</p> + +<p>Light footsteps shifted their position in the porch, and he could +just distinguish in a plaintive female voice the words, "O Clym, +come down and let me in!"</p> + +<p>He flushed hot with agitation. "Surely it is Eustacia!" he +murmured. If so, she had indeed come to him unawares.</p> + +<p>He hastily got a light, dressed himself, and went down. On his +flinging open the door the rays of the candle fell upon a woman +closely wrapped up, who at once came forward.</p> + +<p>"Thomasin!" he exclaimed in an indescribable tone of +disappointment. "It is Thomasin, and on such a night as this! O, +where is Eustacia?"</p> + +<p>Thomasin it was, wet, frightened, and panting.</p> + +<p>"Eustacia? I don't know, Clym; but I can think," she said with +much perturbation. "Let me come in and rest—I will explain this. +There is a great trouble brewing—my husband and Eustacia!"</p> + +<p>"What, what?"</p> + +<p>"I think my husband is going to leave me or do something +dreadful—I don't know what—Clym, will you go and see? I have +nobody to help me but you! Eustacia has not yet come home?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>She went on breathlessly: "Then they are going to run off +together! He came indoors tonight about eight o'clock and said in +an off-hand way, 'Tamsie, I have just found that I must go a +journey.' 'When?' I said. 'Tonight,' he said. 'Where?' I asked +him. 'I cannot tell you at present,' he said; 'I shall be back +again tomorrow.' He then went and busied himself in looking up his +things, and took no notice of me at all. I expected to see him +start, but he did not, and then it came to be ten o'clock, when he +said, 'You had better go to bed.' I didn't know what to do, and I +went to bed. I believe he thought I fell asleep, for half an hour +after that he came up and unlocked the oak chest we keep money in +when we have much in the house and took out a roll of something +which I believe was bank-notes, though I was not aware that he had +'em there. These he must have got from the bank when he went there +the other day. What does he want bank-notes for, if he is only +going off for a day? When he had gone down I thought of Eustacia, +and how he had met her the night before—I know he did meet her, +Clym, for I followed him part of the way; but I did not like to +tell you when you called, and so make you think ill of him, as I +did not think it was so serious. Then I could not stay in bed; I +got up and dressed myself, and when I heard him out in the stable +I thought I would come and tell you. So I came downstairs without +any noise and slipped out."</p> + +<p>"Then he was not absolutely gone when you left?"</p> + +<p>"No. Will you, dear Cousin Clym, go and try to persuade him not to +go? He takes no notice of what I say, and puts me off with the +story of his going on a journey, and will be home tomorrow, and +all that; but I don't believe it. I think you could influence +him."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," said Clym. "O, Eustacia!"</p> + +<p>Thomasin carried in her arms a large bundle; and having by this +time seated herself she began to unroll it, when a baby appeared +as the kernel to the husks—dry, warm, and unconscious of travel +or rough weather. Thomasin briefly kissed the baby, and then found +time to begin crying as she said, "I brought baby, for I was +afraid what might happen to her. I suppose it will be her death, +but I couldn't leave her with Rachel!"</p> + +<p>Clym hastily put together the logs on the hearth, raked abroad the +embers, which were scarcely yet extinct, and blew up a flame with +the bellows.</p> + +<p>"Dry yourself," he said. "I'll go and get some more wood."</p> + +<p>"No, no—don't stay for that. I'll make up the fire. Will you go +at once—please will you?"</p> + +<p>Yeobright ran upstairs to finish dressing himself. While he was +gone another rapping came to the door. This time there was no +delusion that it might be Eustacia's: the footsteps just preceding +it had been heavy and slow. Yeobright thinking it might possibly +be Fairway with a note in answer, descended again and opened the +door.</p> + +<p>"Captain Vye?" he said to a dripping figure.</p> + +<p>"Is my granddaughter here?" said the captain.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then where is she?".</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"But you ought to know—you are her husband."</p> + +<p>"Only in name apparently," said Clym with rising excitement. "I +believe she means to elope tonight with Wildeve. I am just going +to look to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, she has left my house; she left about half an hour ago. +Who's sitting there?"</p> + +<p>"My cousin Thomasin."</p> + +<p>The captain bowed in a preoccupied way to her. "I only hope it is +no worse than an elopement," he said.</p> + +<p>"Worse? What's worse than the worst a wife can do?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I have been told a strange tale. Before starting in search +of her I called up Charley, my stable lad. I missed my pistols the +other day."</p> + +<p>"Pistols?"</p> + +<p>"He said at the time that he took them down to clean. He has now +owned that he took them because he saw Eustacia looking curiously +at them; and she afterwards owned to him that she was thinking of +taking her life, but bound him to secrecy, and promised never to +think of such a thing again. I hardly suppose she will ever have +bravado enough to use one of them; but it shows what has been +lurking in her mind; and people who think of that sort of thing +once think of it again."</p> + +<p>"Where are the pistols?"</p> + +<p>"Safely locked up. O no, she won't touch them again. But there are +more ways of letting out life than through a bullet-hole. What did +you quarrel about so bitterly with her to drive her to all this? +You must have treated her badly indeed. Well, I was always against +the marriage, and I was right."</p> + +<p>"Are you going with me?" said Yeobright, paying no attention to +the captain's latter remark. "If so I can tell you what we +quarrelled about as we walk along."</p> + +<p>"Where to?"</p> + +<p>"To Wildeve's—that was her destination, depend upon it."</p> + +<p>Thomasin here broke in, still weeping: "He said he was only going +on a sudden short journey; but if so why did he want so much +money? O, Clym, what do you think will happen? I am afraid that +you, my poor baby, will soon have no father left to you!"</p> + +<p>"I am off now," said Yeobright, stepping into the porch.</p> + +<p>"I would fain go with 'ee," said the old man doubtfully. "But I +begin to be afraid that my legs will hardly carry me there such a +night as this. I am not so young as I was. If they are interrupted +in their flight she will be sure to come back to me, and I ought +to be at the house to receive her. But be it as 'twill I can't +walk to the Quiet Woman, and that's an end on't. I'll go straight +home."</p> + +<p>"It will perhaps be best," said Clym. "Thomasin, dry yourself, and +be as comfortable as you can."</p> + +<p>With this he closed the door upon her, and left the house in +company with Captain Vye, who parted from him outside the gate, +taking the middle path, which led to Mistover. Clym crossed by the +right-hand track towards the inn.</p> + +<p>Thomasin, being left alone, took off some of her wet garments, +carried the baby upstairs to Clym's bed, and then came down to the +sitting-room again, where she made a larger fire, and began drying +herself. The fire soon flared up the chimney, giving the room an +appearance of comfort that was doubled by contrast with the +drumming of the storm without, which snapped at the window-panes +and breathed into the chimney strange low utterances that seemed +to be the prologue to some tragedy.</p> + +<p>But the least part of Thomasin was in the house, for her heart +being at ease about the little girl upstairs she was mentally +following Clym on his journey. Having indulged in this imaginary +peregrination for some considerable interval, she became impressed +with a sense of the intolerable slowness of time. But she sat on. +The moment then came when she could scarcely sit longer; and it +was like a satire on her patience to remember that Clym could +hardly have reached the inn as yet. At last she went to the baby's +bedside. The child was sleeping soundly; but her imagination of +possibly disastrous events at her home, the predominance within +her of the unseen over the seen, agitated her beyond endurance. +She could not refrain from going down and opening the door. The +rain still continued, the candlelight falling upon the nearest +drops and making glistening darts of them as they descended across +the throng of invisible ones behind. To plunge into that medium +was to plunge into water slightly diluted with air. But the +difficulty of returning to her house at this moment made her all +the more desirous of doing so: anything was better than suspense. +"I have come here well enough," she said, "and why shouldn't I go +back again? It is a mistake for me to be away."</p> + +<p>She hastily fetched the infant, wrapped it up, cloaked herself as +before, and shoveling the ashes over the fire, to prevent +accidents, went into the open air. Pausing first to put the door +key in its old place behind the shutter, she resolutely turned her +face to the confronting pile of firmamental darkness beyond the +palings, and stepped into its midst. But Thomasin's imagination +being so actively engaged elsewhere, the night and the weather had +for her no terror beyond that of their actual discomfort and +difficulty.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>She was soon ascending Blooms-End valley and traversing the +undulations on the side of the hill. The noise of the wind over +the heath was shrill, and as if it whistled for joy at finding a +night so congenial as this. Sometimes the path led her to hollows +between thickets of tall and dripping bracken, dead, though not +yet prostrate, which enclosed her like a pool. When they were more +than usually tall she lifted the baby to the top of her head, that +it might be out of the reach of their drenching fronds. On higher +ground, where the wind was brisk and sustained, the rain flew in a +level flight without sensible descent, so that it was beyond all +power to imagine the remoteness of the point at which it left the +bosoms of the clouds. Here self-defence was impossible, and +individual drops stuck into her like the arrows into Saint +Sebastian. She was enabled to avoid puddles by the nebulous +paleness which signified their presence, though beside anything +less dark than the heath they themselves would have appeared as +blackness.</p> + +<p>Yet in spite of all this Thomasin was not sorry that she had +started. To her there were not, as to Eustacia, demons in the air, +and malice in every bush and bough. The drops which lashed her +face were not scorpions, but prosy rain; Egdon in the mass was no +monster whatever, but impersonal open ground. Her fears of the +place were rational, her dislikes of its worst moods reasonable. +At this time it was in her view a windy, wet place, in which a +person might experience much discomfort, lose the path without +care, and possibly catch cold.</p> + +<p>If the path is well known the difficulty at such times of keeping +therein is not altogether great, from its familiar feel to the +feet; but once lost it is irrecoverable. Owing to her baby, who +somewhat impeded Thomasin's view forward and distracted her mind, +she did at last lose the track. This mishap occurred when she was +descending an open slope about two-thirds home. Instead of +attempting, by wandering hither and thither, the hopeless task of +finding such a mere thread, she went straight on, trusting for +guidance to her general knowledge of the contours, which was +scarcely surpassed by Clym's or by that of the heath-croppers +themselves.</p> + +<p>At length Thomasin reached a hollow and began to discern through +the rain a faint blotted radiance, which presently assumed the +oblong form of an open door. She knew that no house stood +hereabouts, and was soon aware of the nature of the door by its +height above the ground.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is Diggory Venn's van, surely!" she said.</p> + +<p>A certain secluded spot near Rainbarrow was, she knew, often +Venn's chosen centre when staying in this neighbourhood; and she +guessed at once that she had stumbled upon this mysterious +retreat. The question arose in her mind whether or not she should +ask him to guide her into the path. In her anxiety to reach home +she decided that she would appeal to him, notwithstanding the +strangeness of appearing before his eyes at this place and season. +But when, in pursuance of this resolve, Thomasin reached the van +and looked in she found it to be untenanted; though there was no +doubt that it was the reddleman's. The fire was burning in the +stove, the lantern hung from the nail. Round the doorway the floor +was merely sprinkled with rain, and not saturated, which told her +that the door had not long been opened.</p> + +<p>While she stood uncertainly looking in Thomasin heard a footstep +advancing from the darkness behind her, and turning, beheld the +well-known form in corduroy, lurid from head to foot, the lantern +beams falling upon him through an intervening gauze of raindrops.</p> + +<p>"I thought you went down the slope," he said, without noticing her +face. "How do you come back here again?"</p> + +<p>"Diggory?" said Thomasin faintly.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" said Venn, still unperceiving. "And why were you +crying so just now?"</p> + +<p>"O, Diggory! don't you know me?" said she. "But of course you +don't, wrapped up like this. What do you mean? I have not been +crying here, and I have not been here before."</p> + +<p>Venn then came nearer till he could see the illuminated side of +her form.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wildeve!" he exclaimed, starting. "What a time for us to +meet! And the baby too! What dreadful thing can have brought you +out on such a night as this?"</p> + +<p>She could not immediately answer; and without asking her +permission he hopped into his van, took her by the arm, and drew +her up after him.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he continued when they stood within.</p> + +<p>"I have lost my way coming from Blooms-End, and I am in a great +hurry to get home. Please show me as quickly as you can! It is so +silly of me not to know Egdon better, and I cannot think how I +came to lose the path. Show me quickly, Diggory, please."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. I will go with 'ee. But you came to me before +this, Mrs. Wildeve?"</p> + +<p>"I only came this minute."</p> + +<p>"That's strange. I was lying down here asleep about five minutes +ago, with the door shut to keep out the weather, when the brushing +of a woman's clothes over the heath-bushes just outside woke me +up (for I don't sleep heavy), and at the same time I heard a +sobbing or crying from the same woman. I opened my door and held +out my lantern, and just as far as the light would reach I saw a +woman: she turned her head when the light sheened on her, and then +hurried on downhill. I hung up the lantern, and was curious enough +to pull on my things and dog her a few steps, but I could see +nothing of her any more. That was where I had been when you came +up; and when I saw you I thought you were the same one."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it was one of the heath-folk going home?"</p> + +<p>"No, it couldn't be. 'Tis too late. The noise of her gown over the +he'th was of a whistling sort that nothing but silk will make."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't I, then. My dress is not silk, you see… Are we +anywhere in a line between Mistover and the inn?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; not far out."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I wonder if it was she! Diggory, I must go at once!"</p> + +<p>She jumped down from the van before he was aware, when Venn +unhooked the lantern and leaped down after her. "I'll take the +baby, ma'am," he said. "You must be tired out by the weight."</p> + +<p>Thomasin hesitated a moment, and then delivered the baby into +Venn's hands. "Don't squeeze her, Diggory," she said, "or hurt her +little arm; and keep the cloak close over her like this, so that +the rain may not drop in her face."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Venn earnestly. "As if I could hurt anything +belonging to you!"</p> + +<p>"I only meant accidentally," said Thomasin.</p> + +<p>"The baby is dry enough, but you are pretty wet," said the +reddleman when, in closing the door of his cart to padlock it, he +noticed on the floor a ring of water drops where her cloak had +hung from her.</p> + +<p>Thomasin followed him as he wound right and left to avoid the +larger bushes, stopping occasionally and covering the lantern, +while he looked over his shoulder to gain some idea of the +position of Rainbarrow above them, which it was necessary to keep +directly behind their backs to preserve a proper course.</p> + +<p>"You are sure the rain does not fall upon baby?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure. May I ask how old he is, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"He!" said Thomasin reproachfully. "Anybody can see better than +that in a moment. She is nearly two months old. How far is it now +to the inn?"</p> + +<p>"A little over a quarter of a mile."</p> + +<p>"Will you walk a little faster?"</p> + +<p>"I was afraid you could not keep up."</p> + +<p>"I am very anxious to get there. Ah, there is a light from the +window!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis not from the window. That's a gig-lamp, to the best of my +belief."</p> + +<p>"O!" said Thomasin in despair. "I wish I had been there +sooner—give me the baby, Diggory—you can go back now."</p> + +<p>"I must go all the way," said Venn. "There is a quag between us +and that light, and you will walk into it up to your neck unless I +take you round."</p> + +<p>"But the light is at the inn, and there is no quag in front of +that."</p> + +<p>"No, the light is below the inn some two or three hundred yards."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Thomasin hurriedly. "Go towards the light, and +not towards the inn."</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Venn, swerving round in obedience; and, after a +pause, "I wish you would tell me what this great trouble is. I +think you have proved that I can be trusted."</p> + +<p>"There are some things that cannot be—cannot be told to—" And +then her heart rose into her throat, and she could say no more.</p> + + +<p><a name="5-9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IX</h3> +<h3>Sights and Sounds Draw the Wanderers Together<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Having seen Eustacia's signal from the hill at eight o'clock, +Wildeve immediately prepared to assist her in her flight, and, as +he hoped, accompany her. He was somewhat perturbed, and his manner +of informing Thomasin that he was going on a journey was in itself +sufficient to rouse her suspicions. When she had gone to bed he +collected the few articles he would require, and went upstairs to +the money-chest, whence he took a tolerably bountiful sum in +notes, which had been advanced to him on the property he was so +soon to have in possession, to defray expenses incidental to the +removal.</p> + +<p>He then went to the stable and coach-house to assure himself that +the horse, gig, and harness were in a fit condition for a long +drive. Nearly half an hour was spent thus, and on returning to the +house Wildeve had no thought of Thomasin being anywhere but in +bed. He had told the stable-lad not to stay up, leading the boy to +understand that his departure would be at three or four in the +morning; for this, though an exceptional hour, was less strange +than midnight, the time actually agreed on, the packet from +Budmouth sailing between one and two.</p> + +<p>At last all was quiet, and he had nothing to do but to wait. By no +effort could he shake off the oppression of spirits which he had +experienced ever since his last meeting with Eustacia, but he +hoped there was that in his situation which money could cure. He +had persuaded himself that to act not ungenerously towards his +gentle wife by settling on her the half of his property, and with +chivalrous devotion towards another and greater woman by sharing +her fate, was possible. And though he meant to adhere to +Eustacia's instructions to the letter, to deposit her where she +wished and to leave her, should that be her will, the spell that +she had cast over him intensified, and his heart was beating fast +in the anticipated futility of such commands in the face of a +mutual wish that they should throw in their lot together.</p> + +<p>He would not allow himself to dwell long upon these conjectures, +maxims, and hopes, and at twenty minutes to twelve he again went +softly to the stable, harnessed the horse, and lit the lamps; +whence, taking the horse by the head, he led him with the covered +car out of the yard to a spot by the roadside some quarter of a +mile below the inn.</p> + +<p>Here Wildeve waited, slightly sheltered from the driving rain by a +high bank that had been cast up at this place. Along the surface +of the road where lit by the lamps the loosened gravel and small +stones scudded and clicked together before the wind, which, +leaving them in heaps, plunged into the heath and boomed across +the bushes into darkness. Only one sound rose above this din of +weather, and that was the roaring of a ten-hatch weir to the +southward, from a river in the meads which formed the boundary of +the heath in this direction.</p> + +<p>He lingered on in perfect stillness till he began to fancy that +the midnight hour must have struck. A very strong doubt had arisen +in his mind if Eustacia would venture down the hill in such +weather; yet knowing her nature he felt that she might. "Poor +thing! 'tis like her ill-luck," he murmured.</p> + +<p>At length he turned to the lamp and looked at his watch. To his +surprise it was nearly a quarter past midnight. He now wished that +he had driven up the circuitous road to Mistover, a plan not +adopted because of the enormous length of the route in proportion +to that of the pedestrian's path down the open hillside, and the +consequent increase of labour for the horse.</p> + +<p>At this moment a footstep approached; but the light of the lamps +being in a different direction the comer was not visible. The step +paused, then came on again.</p> + +<p>"Eustacia?" said Wildeve.</p> + +<p>The person came forward, and the light fell upon the form of Clym, +glistening with wet, whom Wildeve immediately recognized; but +Wildeve, who stood behind the lamp, was not at once recognized by +Yeobright.</p> + +<p>He stopped as if in doubt whether this waiting vehicle could have +anything to do with the flight of his wife or not. The sight of +Yeobright at once banished Wildeve's sober feelings, who saw him +again as the deadly rival from whom Eustacia was to be kept at all +hazards. Hence Wildeve did not speak, in the hope that Clym would +pass by without particular inquiry.</p> + +<p>While they both hung thus in hesitation a dull sound became +audible above the storm and wind. Its origin was unmistakable—it +was the fall of a body into the stream in the adjoining mead, +apparently at a point near the weir.</p> + +<p>Both started. "Good God! can it be she?" said Clym.</p> + +<p>"Why should it be she?" said Wildeve, in his alarm forgetting that +he had hitherto screened himself.</p> + +<p>"Ah!—that's you, you traitor, is it?" cried Yeobright. "Why +should it be she? Because last week she would have put an end to +her life if she had been able. She ought to have been watched! +Take one of the lamps and come with me."</p> + +<p>Yeobright seized the one on his side and hastened on; Wildeve did +not wait to unfasten the other, but followed at once along the +meadow-track to the weir, a little in the rear of Clym.</p> + +<p>Shadwater Weir had at its foot a large circular pool, fifty feet +in diameter, into which the water flowed through ten huge hatches, +raised and lowered by a winch and cogs in the ordinary manner. The +sides of the pool were of masonry, to prevent the water from +washing away the bank; but the force of the stream in winter was +sometimes such as to undermine the retaining wall and precipitate +it into the hole. Clym reached the hatches, the framework of which +was shaken to its foundations by the velocity of the current. +Nothing but the froth of the waves could be discerned in the pool +below. He got upon the plank bridge over the race, and holding to +the rail, that the wind might not blow him off, crossed to the +other side of the river. There he leant over the wall and lowered +the lamp, only to behold the vortex formed at the curl of the +returning current.</p> + +<p>Wildeve meanwhile had arrived on the former side, and the light +from Yeobright's lamp shed a flecked and agitated radiance across +the weir pool, revealing to the ex-engineer the tumbling courses +of the currents from the hatches above. Across this gashed and +puckered mirror a dark body was slowly borne by one of the +backward currents.</p> + +<p>"O, my darling!" exclaimed Wildeve in an agonized voice; and, +without showing sufficient presence of mind even to throw off his +greatcoat, he leaped into the boiling caldron.</p> + +<p>Yeobright could now also discern the floating body, though but +indistinctly; and imagining from Wildeve's plunge that there was +life to be saved he was about to leap after. Bethinking himself of +a wiser plan he placed the lamp against a post to make it stand +upright, and running round to the lower part of the pool, where +there was no wall, he sprang in and boldly waded upwards towards +the deeper portion. Here he was taken off his legs, and in +swimming was carried round into the centre of the basin, where he +perceived Wildeve struggling.</p> + +<p>While these hasty actions were in progress here, Venn and Thomasin +had been toiling through the lower corner of the heath in the +direction of the light. They had not been near enough to the river +to hear the plunge, but they saw the removal of the carriage-lamp, +and watched its motion into the mead. As soon as they reached the +car and horse Venn guessed that something new was amiss, and +hastened to follow in the course of the moving light. Venn walked +faster than Thomasin, and came to the weir alone.</p> + +<p>The lamp placed against the post by Clym still shone across the +water, and the reddleman observed something floating motionless. +Being encumbered with the infant, he ran back to meet Thomasin.</p> + +<p>"Take the baby, please, Mrs. Wildeve," he said hastily. "Run home +with her, call the stable-lad, and make him send down to me any +men who may be living near. Somebody has fallen into the weir."</p> + +<p>Thomasin took the child and ran. When she came to the covered car +the horse, though fresh from the stable, was standing perfectly +still, as if conscious of misfortune. She saw for the first time +whose it was. She nearly fainted, and would have been unable to +proceed another step but that the necessity of preserving the +little girl from harm nerved her to an amazing self-control. In +this agony of suspense she entered the house, put the baby in a +place of safety, woke the lad and the female domestic, and ran out +to give the alarm at the nearest cottage.</p> + +<p>Diggory, having returned to the brink of the pool, observed that +the small upper hatches or floats were withdrawn. He found one of +these lying upon the grass, and taking it under one arm, and with +his lantern in his hand, entered at the bottom of the pool as Clym +had done. As soon as he began to be in deep water he flung himself +across the hatch; thus supported he was able to keep afloat as +long as he chose, holding the lantern aloft with his disengaged +hand. Propelled by his feet he steered round and round the pool, +ascending each time by one of the back streams and descending in +the middle of the current.</p> + +<p>At first he could see nothing. Then amidst the glistening of the +whirlpools and the white clots of foam he distinguished a woman's +bonnet floating alone. His search was now under the left wall, +when something came to the surface almost close beside him. It was +not, as he had expected, a woman, but a man. The reddleman put the +ring of the lantern between his teeth, seized the floating man by +the collar, and, holding on to the hatch with his remaining arm, +struck out into the strongest race, by which the unconscious man, +the hatch, and himself were carried down the stream. As soon as +Venn found his feet dragging over the pebbles of the shallower +part below he secured his footing and waded towards the brink. +There, where the water stood at about the height of his waist, he +flung away the hatch, and attempted to drag forth the man. This +was a matter of great difficulty, and he found as the reason that +the legs of the unfortunate stranger were tightly embraced by the +arms of another man, who had hitherto been entirely beneath the +surface.</p> + +<p>At this moment his heart bounded to hear footsteps running towards +him, and two men, roused by Thomasin, appeared at the brink above. +They ran to where Venn was, and helped him in lifting out the +apparently drowned persons, separating them, and laying them out +upon the grass. Venn turned the light upon their faces. The one +who had been uppermost was Yeobright; he who had been completely +submerged was Wildeve.</p> + +<p>"Now we must search the hole again," said Venn. "A woman is in +there somewhere. Get a pole."</p> + +<p>One of the men went to the foot-bridge and tore off the handrail. +The reddleman and the two others then entered the water together +from below as before, and with their united force probed the pool +forwards to where it sloped down to its central depth. Venn was +not mistaken in supposing that any person who had sunk for the +last time would be washed down to this point, for when they had +examined to about half-way across something impeded their thrust.</p> + +<p>"Pull it forward," said Venn, and they raked it in with the pole +till it was close to their feet.</p> + +<p>Venn vanished under the stream, and came up with an armful of wet +drapery enclosing a woman's cold form, which was all that remained +of the desperate Eustacia.</p> + +<p>When they reached the bank there stood Thomasin, in a stress of +grief, bending over the two unconscious ones who already lay +there. The horse and cart were brought to the nearest point in the +road, and it was the work of a few minutes only to place the three +in the vehicle. Venn led on the horse, supporting Thomasin upon +his arm, and the two men followed, till they reached the inn.</p> + +<p>The woman who had been shaken out of her sleep by Thomasin had +hastily dressed herself and lighted a fire, the other servant +being left to snore on in peace at the back of the house. The +insensible forms of Eustacia, Clym, and Wildeve were then brought +in and laid on the carpet, with their feet to the fire, when such +restorative processes as could be thought of were adopted at once, +the stableman being in the meantime sent for a doctor. But there +seemed to be not a whiff of life left in either of the bodies. Then +Thomasin, whose stupor of grief had been thrust off awhile by +frantic action, applied a bottle of hartshorn to Clym's nostrils, +having tried it in vain upon the other two. He sighed.</p> + +<p>"Clym's alive!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>He soon breathed distinctly, and again and again did she attempt +to revive her husband by the same means; but Wildeve gave no sign. +There was too much reason to think that he and Eustacia both were +for ever beyond the reach of stimulating perfumes. Their exertions +did not relax till the doctor arrived, when one by one, the +senseless three were taken upstairs and put into warm beds.</p> + +<p>Venn soon felt himself relieved from further attendance, and went +to the door, scarcely able yet to realize the strange catastrophe +that had befallen the family in which he took so great an +interest. Thomasin surely would be broken down by the sudden and +overwhelming nature of this event. No firm and sensible Mrs. +Yeobright lived now to support the gentle girl through the ordeal; +and, whatever an unimpassioned spectator might think of her loss +of such a husband as Wildeve, there could be no doubt that for the +moment she was distracted and horrified by the blow. As for +himself, not being privileged to go to her and comfort her, he saw +no reason for waiting longer in a house where he remained only as +a stranger.</p> + +<p>He returned across the heath to his van. The fire was not yet out, +and everything remained as he had left it. Venn now bethought +himself of his clothes, which were saturated with water to the +weight of lead. He changed them, spread them before the fire, and +lay down to sleep. But it was more than he could do to rest here +while excited by a vivid imagination of the turmoil they were in +at the house he had quitted, and, blaming himself for coming away, +he dressed in another suit, locked up the door, and again hastened +across to the inn. Rain was still falling heavily when he entered +the kitchen. A bright fire was shining from the hearth, and two +women were bustling about, one of whom was Olly Dowden.</p> + +<p>"Well, how is it going on now?" said Venn in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Yeobright is better; but Mrs. Yeobright and Mr. Wildeve are +dead and cold. The doctor says they were quite gone before they +were out of the water."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I thought as much when I hauled 'em up. And Mrs. Wildeve?"</p> + +<p>"She is as well as can be expected. The doctor had her put between +blankets, for she was almost as wet as they that had been in the +river, poor young thing. You don't seem very dry, reddleman."</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'tis not much. I have changed my things. This is only a +little dampness I've got coming through the rain again."</p> + +<p>"Stand by the fire. Mis'ess says you be to have whatever you want, +and she was sorry when she was told that you'd gone away."</p> + +<p>Venn drew near to the fireplace, and looked into the flames in an +absent mood. The steam came from his leggings and ascended the +chimney with the smoke, while he thought of those who were +upstairs. Two were corpses, one had barely escaped the jaws of +death, another was sick and a widow. The last occasion on which he +had lingered by that fireplace was when the raffle was in +progress; when Wildeve was alive and well; Thomasin active and +smiling in the next room; Yeobright and Eustacia just made husband +and wife, and Mrs. Yeobright living at Blooms-End. It had seemed +at that time that the then position of affairs was good for at +least twenty years to come. Yet, of all the circle, he himself was +the only one whose situation had not materially changed.</p> + +<p>While he ruminated a footstep descended the stairs. It was the +nurse, who brought in her hand a rolled mass of wet paper. The +woman was so engrossed with her occupation that she hardly saw +Venn. She took from a cupboard some pieces of twine, which she +strained across the fireplace, tying the end of each piece to the +firedog, previously pulled forward for the purpose, and, unrolling +the wet papers, she began pinning them one by one to the strings +in a manner of clothes on a line.</p> + +<p>"What be they?" said Venn.</p> + +<p>"Poor master's bank-notes," she answered. "They were found in his +pocket when they undressed him."</p> + +<p>"Then he was not coming back again for some time?" said Venn.</p> + +<p>"That we shall never know," said she.</p> + +<p>Venn was loth to depart, for all on earth that interested him lay +under this roof. As nobody in the house had any more sleep that +night, except the two who slept for ever, there was no reason why +he should not remain. So he retired into the niche of the +fireplace where he had used to sit, and there he continued, +watching the steam from the double row of bank-notes as they waved +backwards and forwards in the draught of the chimney till their +flaccidity was changed to dry crispness throughout. Then the woman +came and unpinned them, and, folding them together, carried the +handful upstairs. Presently the doctor appeared from above with +the look of a man who could do no more, and, pulling on his +gloves, went out of the house, the trotting of his horse soon +dying away upon the road.</p> + +<p>At four o'clock there was a gentle knock at the door. It was from +Charley, who had been sent by Captain Vye to inquire if anything +had been heard of Eustacia. The girl who admitted him looked in +his face as if she did not know what answer to return, and showed +him in to where Venn was seated, saying to the reddleman, "Will +you tell him, please?"</p> + +<p>Venn told. Charley's only utterance was a feeble, indistinct +sound. He stood quite still; then he burst out spasmodically, "I +shall see her once more?"</p> + +<p>"I dare say you may see her," said Diggory gravely. "But hadn't +you better run and tell Captain Vye?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Only I do hope I shall see her just once again."</p> + +<p>"You shall," said a low voice behind; and starting round they +beheld by the dim light a thin, pallid, almost spectral form, +wrapped in a blanket, and looking like Lazarus coming from the +tomb.</p> + +<p>It was Yeobright. Neither Venn nor Charley spoke, and Clym +continued, "You shall see her. There will be time enough to tell +the captain when it gets daylight. You would like to see her +too—would you not, Diggory? She looks very beautiful now."</p> + +<p>Venn assented by rising to his feet, and with Charley he followed +Clym to the foot of the staircase, where he took off his boots; +Charley did the same. They followed Yeobright upstairs to the +landing, where there was a candle burning, which Yeobright took in +his hand, and with it led the way into an adjoining room. Here he +went to the bedside and folded back the sheet.</p> + +<p>They stood silently looking upon Eustacia, who, as she lay there +still in death, eclipsed all her living phases. Pallor did not +include all the quality of her complexion, which seemed more than +whiteness; it was almost light. The expression of her finely +carved mouth was pleasant, as if a sense of dignity had just +compelled her to leave off speaking. Eternal rigidity had seized +upon it in a momentary transition between fervour and resignation. +Her black hair was looser now than either of them had ever seen it +before, and surrounded her brow like a forest. The stateliness of +look which had been almost too marked for a dweller in a country +domicile had at last found an artistically happy background.</p> + +<p>Nobody spoke, till at length Clym covered her and turned aside. +"Now come here," he said.</p> + +<p>They went to a recess in the same room, and there, on a smaller +bed, lay another figure—Wildeve. Less repose was visible in his +face than in Eustacia's, but the same luminous youthfulness +overspread it, and the least sympathetic observer would have felt +at sight of him now that he was born for a higher destiny than +this. The only sign upon him of his recent struggle for life was +in his finger-tips, which were worn and sacrificed in his dying +endeavours to obtain a hold on the face of the weir-wall.</p> + +<p>Yeobright's manner had been so quiet, he had uttered so few +syllables since his reappearance, that Venn imagined him resigned. +It was only when they had left the room and stood upon the landing +that the true state of his mind was apparent. Here he said, with a +wild smile, inclining his head towards the chamber in which +Eustacia lay, "She is the second woman I have killed this year. I +was a great cause of my mother's death, and I am the chief cause +of hers."</p> + +<p>"How?" said Venn.</p> + +<p>"I spoke cruel words to her, and she left my house. I did not +invite her back till it was too late. It is I who ought to have +drowned myself. It would have been a charity to the living had the +river overwhelmed me and borne her up. But I cannot die. Those who +ought to have lived lie dead; and here am I alive!"</p> + +<p>"But you can't charge yourself with crimes in that way," said +Venn. "You may as well say that the parents be the cause of a +murder by the child, for without the parents the child would never +have been begot."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Venn, that is very true; but you don't know all the +circumstances. If it had pleased God to put an end to me it would +have been a good thing for all. But I am getting used to the +horror of my existence. They say that a time comes when men laugh +at misery through long acquaintance with it. Surely that time will +soon come to me!"</p> + +<p>"Your aim has always been good," said Venn. "Why should you say +such desperate things?"</p> + +<p>"No, they are not desperate. They are only hopeless; and my great +regret is that for what I have done no man or law can punish me!"</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="6-1"></a> </p> +<h3>BOOK SIXTH</h3> +<h2>AFTERCOURSES</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>I</h3> +<h3>The Inevitable Movement Onward<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The story of the deaths of Eustacia and Wildeve was told +throughout Egdon, and far beyond, for many weeks and months. All +the known incidents of their love were enlarged, distorted, +touched up, and modified, till the original reality bore but a +slight resemblance to the counterfeit presentation by surrounding +tongues. Yet, upon the whole, neither the man nor the woman lost +dignity by sudden death. Misfortune had struck them gracefully, +cutting off their erratic histories with a catastrophic dash, +instead of, as with many, attenuating each life to an +uninteresting meagreness, through long years of wrinkles, neglect, +and decay.</p> + +<p>On those most nearly concerned the effect was somewhat different. +Strangers who had heard of many such cases now merely heard of one +more; but immediately where a blow falls no previous imaginings +amount to appreciable preparation for it. The very suddenness of +her bereavement dulled, to some extent, Thomasin's feelings; yet, +irrationally enough, a consciousness that the husband she had lost +ought to have been a better man did not lessen her mourning at +all. On the contrary, this fact seemed at first to set off the +dead husband in his young wife's eyes, and to be the necessary +cloud to the rainbow.</p> + +<p>But the horrors of the unknown had passed. Vague misgivings about +her future as a deserted wife were at an end. The worst had once +been matter of trembling conjecture; it was now matter of reason +only, a limited badness. Her chief interest, the little Eustacia, +still remained. There was humility in her grief, no defiance in +her attitude; and when this is the case a shaken spirit is apt to +be stilled.</p> + +<p>Could Thomasin's mournfulness now and Eustacia's serenity during +life have been reduced to common measure, they would have touched +the same mark nearly. But Thomasin's former brightness made shadow +of that which in a sombre atmosphere was light itself.</p> + +<p>The spring came and calmed her; the summer came and soothed her; +the autumn arrived, and she began to be comforted, for her little +girl was strong and happy, growing in size and knowledge every +day. Outward events flattered Thomasin not a little. Wildeve had +died intestate, and she and the child were his only relatives. +When administration had been granted, all the debts paid, and the +residue of her husband's uncle's property had come into her hands, +it was found that the sum waiting to be invested for her own and +the child's benefit was little less than ten thousand pounds.</p> + +<p>Where should she live? The obvious place was Blooms-End. The old +rooms, it is true, were not much higher than the between-decks of +a frigate, necessitating a sinking in the floor under the new +clock-case she brought from the inn, and the removal of the +handsome brass knobs on its head, before there was height for it +to stand; but, such as the rooms were, there were plenty of them, +and the place was endeared to her by every early recollection. +Clym very gladly admitted her as a tenant, confining his own +existence to two rooms at the top of the back staircase, where he +lived on quietly, shut off from Thomasin and the three servants +she had thought fit to indulge in now that she was a mistress of +money, going his own ways, and thinking his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>His sorrows had made some change in his outward appearance; and +yet the alteration was chiefly within. It might have been said +that he had a wrinkled mind. He had no enemies, and he could get +nobody to reproach him, which was why he so bitterly reproached +himself.</p> + +<p>He did sometimes think he had been ill-used by fortune, so far as +to say that to be born is a palpable dilemma, and that instead of +men aiming to advance in life with glory they should calculate how +to retreat out of it without shame. But that he and his had been +sarcastically and pitilessly handled in having such irons thrust +into their souls he did not maintain long. It is usually so, +except with the sternest of men. Human beings, in their generous +endeavour to construct a hypothesis that shall not degrade a First +Cause, have always hesitated to conceive a dominant power of lower +moral quality than their own; and, even while they sit down and +weep by the waters of Babylon, invent excuses for the oppression +which prompts their tears.</p> + +<p>Thus, though words of solace were vainly uttered in his presence, +he found relief in a direction of his own choosing when left to +himself. For a man of his habits the house and the hundred and +twenty pounds a year which he had inherited from his mother were +enough to supply all worldly needs. Resources do not depend upon +gross amounts, but upon the proportion of spendings to takings.</p> + +<p>He frequently walked the heath alone, when the past seized upon +him with its shadowy hand, and held him there to listen to its +tale. His imagination would then people the spot with its ancient +inhabitants: forgotten Celtic tribes trod their tracks about him, +and he could almost live among them, look in their faces, and see +them standing beside the barrows which swelled around, untouched +and perfect as at the time of their erection. Those of the dyed +barbarians who had chosen the cultivable tracts were, in +comparison with those who had left their marks here, as writers on +paper beside writers on parchment. Their records had perished long +ago by the plough, while the works of these remained. Yet they all +had lived and died unconscious of the different fates awaiting +their relics. It reminded him that unforeseen factors operate in +the evolution of immortality.</p> + +<p>Winter again came round, with its winds, frosts, tame robins, and +sparkling starlight. The year previous Thomasin had hardly been +conscious of the season's advance; this year she laid her heart +open to external influences of every kind. The life of this sweet +cousin, her baby, and her servants, came to Clym's senses only in +the form of sounds through a wood partition as he sat over books +of exceptionally large type; but his ear became at last so +accustomed to these slight noises from the other part of the house +that he almost could witness the scenes they signified. A faint +beat of half-seconds conjured up Thomasin rocking the cradle, a +wavering hum meant that she was singing the baby to sleep, a +crunching of sand as between millstones raised the picture of +Humphrey's, Fairway's, or Sam's heavy feet crossing the stone +floor of the kitchen; a light boyish step, and a gay tune in a +high key, betokened a visit from Grandfer Cantle; a sudden +break-off in the Grandfer's utterances implied the application to +his lips of a mug of small beer, a bustling and slamming of doors +meant starting to go to market; for Thomasin, in spite of her +added scope of gentility, led a ludicrously narrow life, to the +end that she might save every possible pound for her little +daughter.</p> + +<p>One summer day Clym was in the garden, immediately outside the +parlour window, which was as usual open. He was looking at the +pot-flowers on the sill; they had been revived and restored by +Thomasin to the state in which his mother had left them. He heard +a slight scream from Thomasin, who was sitting inside the room.</p> + +<p>"O, how you frightened me!" she said to some one who had entered. +"I thought you were the ghost of yourself."</p> + +<p>Clym was curious enough to advance a little further and look in at +the window. To his astonishment there stood within the room +Diggory Venn, no longer a reddleman, but exhibiting the strangely +altered hues of an ordinary Christian countenance, white +shirt-front, light flowered waistcoat, blue-spotted neckerchief, +and bottle-green coat. Nothing in this appearance was at all +singular but the fact of its great difference from what he had +formerly been. Red, and all approach to red, was carefully +excluded from every article of clothes upon him; for what is there +that persons just out of harness dread so much as reminders of the +trade which has enriched them?</p> + +<p>Yeobright went round to the door and entered.</p> + +<p>"I was so alarmed!" said Thomasin, smiling from one to the other. +"I couldn't believe that he had got white of his own accord! It +seemed supernatural."</p> + +<p>"I gave up dealing in reddle last Christmas," said Venn. "It was a +profitable trade, and I found that by that time I had made enough +to take the dairy of fifty cows that my father had in his +lifetime. I always thought of getting to that place again if I +changed at all, and now I am there."</p> + +<p>"How did you manage to become white, Diggory?" Thomasin asked.</p> + +<p>"I turned so by degrees, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You look much better than ever you did before."</p> + +<p>Venn appeared confused; and Thomasin, seeing how inadvertently she +had spoken to a man who might possibly have tender feelings for +her still, blushed a little. Clym saw nothing of this, and added +good-humouredly—</p> + +<p>"What shall we have to frighten Thomasin's baby with, now you have +become a human being again?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Diggory," said Thomasin, "and stay to tea."</p> + +<p>Venn moved as if he would retire to the kitchen, when Thomasin +said with pleasant pertness as she went on with some sewing, "Of +course you must sit down here. And where does your fifty-cow dairy +lie, Mr. Venn?"</p> + +<p>"At Stickleford—about two miles to the right of Alderworth, +ma'am, where the meads begin. I have thought that if Mr. Yeobright +would like to pay me a visit sometimes he shouldn't stay away for +want of asking. I'll not bide to tea this afternoon, thank'ee, for +I've got something on hand that must be settled. 'Tis Maypole-day +tomorrow, and the Shadwater folk have clubbed with a few of your +neighbours here to have a pole just outside your palings in the +heath, as it is a nice green place." Venn waved his elbow towards +the patch in front of the house. "I have been talking to Fairway +about it," he continued, "and I said to him that before we put up +the pole it would be as well to ask Mrs. Wildeve."</p> + +<p>"I can say nothing against it," she answered. "Our property does +not reach an inch further than the white palings."</p> + +<p>"But you might not like to see a lot of folk going crazy round a +stick, under your very nose?"</p> + +<p>"I shall have no objection at all."</p> + +<p>Venn soon after went away, and in the evening Yeobright strolled +as far as Fairway's cottage. It was a lovely May sunset, and the +birch trees which grew on this margin of the vast Egdon wilderness +had put on their new leaves, delicate as butterflies' wings, and +diaphanous as amber. Beside Fairway's dwelling was an open space +recessed from the road, and here were now collected all the young +people from within a radius of a couple of miles. The pole lay +with one end supported on a trestle, and women were engaged in +wreathing it from the top downwards with wildflowers. The +instincts of merry England lingered on here with exceptional +vitality, and the symbolic customs which tradition has attached to +each season of the year were yet a reality on Egdon. Indeed, the +impulses of all such outlandish hamlets are pagan still: in these +spots homage to nature, self-adoration, frantic gaieties, +fragments of Teutonic rites to divinities whose names are +forgotten, seem in some way or other to have survived mediaeval +doctrine.</p> + +<p>Yeobright did not interrupt the preparations, and went home again. +The next morning, when Thomasin withdrew the curtains of her +bedroom window, there stood the Maypole in the middle of the +green, its top cutting into the sky. It had sprung up in the +night, or rather early morning, like Jack's bean-stalk. She opened +the casement to get a better view of the garlands and posies that +adorned it. The sweet perfume of the flowers had already spread +into the surrounding air, which, being free from every taint, +conducted to her lips a full measure of the fragrance received +from the spire of blossom in its midst. At the top of the pole +were crossed hoops decked with small flowers; beneath these came a +milk-white zone of Maybloom; then a zone of bluebells, then of +cowslips, then of lilacs, then of ragged-robins, daffodils, and so +on, till the lowest stage was reached. Thomasin noticed all these, +and was delighted that the May revel was to be so near.</p> + +<p>When afternoon came people began to gather on the green, and +Yeobright was interested enough to look out upon them from the +open window of his room. Soon after this Thomasin walked out from +the door immediately below and turned her eyes up to her cousin's +face. She was dressed more gaily than Yeobright had ever seen her +dressed since the time of Wildeve's death, eighteen months before; +since the day of her marriage even she had not exhibited herself +to such advantage.</p> + +<p>"How pretty you look today, Thomasin!" he said. "Is it because of +the Maypole?"</p> + +<p>"Not altogether." And then she blushed and dropped her eyes, which +he did not specially observe, though her manner seemed to him to +be rather peculiar, considering that she was only addressing +himself. Could it be possible that she had put on her summer +clothes to please him?</p> + +<p>He recalled her conduct towards him throughout the last few weeks, +when they had often been working together in the garden, just as +they had formerly done when they were boy and girl under his +mother's eye. What if her interest in him were not so entirely +that of a relative as it had formerly been? To Yeobright any +possibility of this sort was a serious matter; and he almost felt +troubled at the thought of it. Every pulse of loverlike feeling +which had not been stilled during Eustacia's lifetime had gone +into the grave with her. His passion for her had occurred too far +on in his manhood to leave fuel enough on hand for another fire of +that sort, as may happen with more boyish loves. Even supposing +him capable of loving again, that love would be a plant of slow +and laboured growth, and in the end only small and sickly, like an +autumn-hatched bird.</p> + +<p>He was so distressed by this new complexity that when the +enthusiastic brass band arrived and struck up, which it did about +five o'clock, with apparently wind enough among its members to +blow down his house, he withdrew from his rooms by the back door, +went down the garden, through the gate in the hedge, and away out +of sight. He could not bear to remain in the presence of enjoyment +today, though he had tried hard.</p> + +<p>Nothing was seen of him for four hours. When he came back by the +same path it was dusk, and the dews were coating every green +thing. The boisterous music had ceased; but, entering the premises +as he did from behind, he could not see if the May party had all +gone till he had passed through Thomasin's division of the house +to the front door. Thomasin was standing within the porch alone.</p> + +<p>She looked at him reproachfully. "You went away just when it +began, Clym," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I felt I could not join in. You went out with them, of +course?"</p> + +<p>"No, I did not."</p> + +<p>"You appeared to be dressed on purpose."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I could not go out alone; so many people were there. One +is there now."</p> + +<p>Yeobright strained his eyes across the dark-green patch beyond the +paling, and near the black form of the Maypole he discerned a +shadowy figure, sauntering idly up and down. "Who is it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Venn," said Thomasin.</p> + +<p>"You might have asked him to come in, I think, Tamsie. He has been +very kind to you first and last."</p> + +<p>"I will now," she said; and, acting on the impulse, went through +the wicket to where Venn stood under the Maypole.</p> + +<p>"It is Mr. Venn, I think?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>Venn started as if he had not seen her—artful man that he +was—and said, "Yes."</p> + +<p>"Will you come in?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that I—"</p> + +<p>"I have seen you dancing this evening, and you had the very best +of the girls for your partners. Is it that you won't come in +because you wish to stand here, and think over the past hours of +enjoyment?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's partly it," said Mr. Venn, with ostentatious +sentiment. "But the main reason why I am biding here like this is +that I want to wait till the moon rises."</p> + +<p>"To see how pretty the Maypole looks in the moonlight?"</p> + +<p>"No. To look for a glove that was dropped by one of the maidens."</p> + +<p>Thomasin was speechless with surprise. That a man who had to walk +some four or five miles to his home should wait here for such a +reason pointed to only one conclusion: the man must be amazingly +interested in that glove's owner.</p> + +<p>"Were you dancing with her, Diggory?" she asked, in a voice which +revealed that he had made himself considerably more interesting to +her by this disclosure.</p> + +<p>"No," he sighed.</p> + +<p>"And you will not come in, then?"</p> + +<p>"Not tonight, thank you, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Shall I lend you a lantern to look for the young person's glove, +Mr. Venn?"</p> + +<p>"O no; it is not necessary, Mrs. Wildeve, thank you. The moon will +rise in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>Thomasin went back to the porch. "Is he coming in?" said Clym, who +had been waiting where she had left him.</p> + +<p>"He would rather not tonight," she said, and then passed by him +into the house; whereupon Clym too retired to his own rooms.</p> + +<p>When Clym was gone Thomasin crept upstairs in the dark, and, just +listening by the cot, to assure herself that the child was asleep, +she went to the window, gently lifted the corner of the white +curtain, and looked out. Venn was still there. She watched the +growth of the faint radiance appearing in the sky by the eastern +hill, till presently the edge of the moon burst upwards and +flooded the valley with light. Diggory's form was now distinct on +the green; he was moving about in a bowed attitude, evidently +scanning the grass for the precious missing article, walking in +zigzags right and left till he should have passed over every foot +of the ground.</p> + +<p>"How very ridiculous!" Thomasin murmured to herself, in a tone +which was intended to be satirical. "To think that a man should be +so silly as to go mooning about like that for a girl's glove! A +respectable dairyman, too, and a man of money as he is now. What a +pity!"</p> + +<p>At last Venn appeared to find it; whereupon he stood up and raised +it to his lips. Then placing it in his breast-pocket—the nearest +receptacle to a man's heart permitted by modern raiment—he +ascended the valley in a mathematically direct line towards his +distant home in the meadows.</p> + + +<p><a name="6-2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II</h3> +<h3>Thomasin Walks in a Green Place by the Roman Road<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Clym saw little of Thomasin for several days after this; and when +they met she was more silent than usual. At length he asked her +what she was thinking of so intently.</p> + +<p>"I am thoroughly perplexed," she said candidly. "I cannot for my +life think who it is that Diggory Venn is so much in love with. +None of the girls at the Maypole were good enough for him, and yet +she must have been there."</p> + +<p>Clym tried to imagine Venn's choice for a moment; but ceasing to +be interested in the question he went on again with his gardening.</p> + +<p>No clearing up of the mystery was granted her for some time. But +one afternoon Thomasin was upstairs getting ready for a walk, when +she had occasion to come to the landing and call "Rachel." Rachel +was a girl about thirteen, who carried the baby out for airings; +and she came upstairs at the call.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen one of my last new gloves about the house, Rachel?" +inquired Thomasin. "It is the fellow to this one."</p> + +<p>Rachel did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you answer?" said her mistress.</p> + +<p>"I think it is lost, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Lost? Who lost it? I have never worn them but once."</p> + +<p>Rachel appeared as one dreadfully troubled, and at last began to +cry. "Please, ma'am, on the day of the Maypole I had none to wear, +and I seed yours on the table, and I thought I would borrow 'em. I +did not mean to hurt 'em at all, but one of them got lost. +Somebody gave me some money to buy another pair for you, but I +have not been able to go anywhere to get 'em."</p> + +<p>"Who's somebody?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Venn."</p> + +<p>"Did he know it was my glove?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I told him."</p> + +<p>Thomasin was so surprised by the explanation that she quite forgot +to lecture the girl, who glided silently away. Thomasin did not +move further than to turn her eyes upon the grass-plat where the +Maypole had stood. She remained thinking, then said to herself +that she would not go out that afternoon, but would work hard at +the baby's unfinished lovely plaid frock, cut on the cross in the +newest fashion. How she managed to work hard, and yet do no more +than she had done at the end of two hours, would have been a +mystery to anyone not aware that the recent incident was of a kind +likely to divert her industry from a manual to a mental channel.</p> + +<p>Next day she went her ways as usual, and continued her custom of +walking in the heath with no other companion than little Eustacia, +now of the age when it is a matter of doubt with such characters +whether they are intended to walk through the world on their hands +or on their feet; so that they get into painful complications by +trying both. It was very pleasant to Thomasin, when she had +carried the child to some lonely place, to give her a little +private practice on the green turf and shepherd's-thyme, which +formed a soft mat to fall headlong upon when equilibrium was +lost.</p> + +<p>Once, when engaged in this system of training, and stooping to +remove bits of stick, fern-stalks, and other such fragments from +the child's path, that the journey might not be brought to an +untimely end by some insuperable barrier a quarter of an inch +high, she was alarmed by discovering that a man on horseback was +almost close beside her, the soft natural carpet having muffled +the horse's tread. The rider, who was Venn, waved his hat in the +air and bowed gallantly.</p> + +<p>"Diggory, give me my glove," said Thomasin, whose manner it was +under any circumstances to plunge into the midst of a subject +which engrossed her.</p> + +<p>Venn immediately dismounted, put his hand in his breastpocket, and +handed the glove.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. It was very good of you to take care of it."</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you to say so."</p> + +<p>"O no. I was quite glad to find you had it. Everybody gets so +indifferent that I was surprised to know you thought of me."</p> + +<p>"If you had remembered what I was once you wouldn't have been +surprised."</p> + +<p>"Ah, no," she said quickly. "But men of your character are mostly +so independent."</p> + +<p>"What is my character?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly know," said Thomasin simply, "except it is to +cover up your feelings under a practical manner, and only to show +them when you are alone."</p> + +<p>"Ah, how do you know that?" said Venn strategically.</p> + +<p>"Because," said she, stopping to put the little girl, who had +managed to get herself upside down, right end up again, "because I +do."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't judge by folks in general," said Venn. "Still I don't +know much what feelings are now-a-days. I have got so mixed up with +business of one sort and t'other that my soft sentiments are gone +off in vapour like. Yes, I am given up body and soul to the making +of money. Money is all my dream."</p> + +<p>"O Diggory, how wicked!" said Thomasin reproachfully, and looking +at him in exact balance between taking his words seriously and +judging them as said to tease her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'tis rather a rum course," said Venn, in the bland tone of +one comfortably resigned to sins he could no longer overcome.</p> + +<p>"You, who used to be so nice!"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's an argument I rather like, because what a man has +once been he may be again." Thomasin blushed. "Except that it is +rather harder now," Venn continued.</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Because you be richer than you were at that time."</p> + +<p>"O no—not much. I have made it nearly all over to the baby, as it +was my duty to do, except just enough to live on."</p> + +<p>"I am rather glad of that," said Venn softly, and regarding her +from the corner of his eye, "for it makes it easier for us to be +friendly."</p> + +<p>Thomasin blushed again, and, when a few more words had been said +of a not unpleasing kind, Venn mounted his horse and rode on.</p> + +<p>This conversation had passed in a hollow of the heath near the old +Roman road, a place much frequented by Thomasin. And it might have +been observed that she did not in future walk that way less often +from having met Venn there now. Whether or not Venn abstained from +riding thither because he had met Thomasin in the same place might +easily have been guessed from her proceedings about two months +later in the same year.</p> + + +<p><a name="6-3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III</h3> +<h3>The Serious Discourse of Clym with His Cousin<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Throughout this period Yeobright had more or less pondered on his +duty to his cousin Thomasin. He could not help feeling that it +would be a pitiful waste of sweet material if the tender-natured +thing should be doomed from this early stage of her life onwards +to dribble away her winsome qualities on lonely gorse and fern. +But he felt this as an economist merely, and not as a lover. His +passion for Eustacia had been a sort of conserve of his whole +life, and he had nothing more of that supreme quality left to +bestow. So far the obvious thing was not to entertain any idea of +marriage with Thomasin, even to oblige her.</p> + +<p>But this was not all. Years ago there had been in his mother's +mind a great fancy about Thomasin and himself. It had not +positively amounted to a desire, but it had always been a +favourite dream. That they should be man and wife in good time, if +the happiness of neither were endangered thereby, was the fancy in +question. So that what course save one was there now left for any +son who reverenced his mother's memory as Yeobright did? It is an +unfortunate fact that any particular whim of parents, which might +have been dispersed by half an hour's conversation during their +lives, becomes sublimated by their deaths into a fiat the most +absolute, with such results to conscientious children as those +parents, had they lived, would have been the first to decry.</p> + +<p>Had only Yeobright's own future been involved he would have +proposed to Thomasin with a ready heart. He had nothing to lose by +carrying out a dead mother's hope. But he dreaded to contemplate +Thomasin wedded to the mere corpse of a lover that he now felt +himself to be. He had but three activities alive in him. One was +his almost daily walk to the little graveyard wherein his mother +lay; another, his just as frequent visits by night to the more +distant enclosure, which numbered his Eustacia among its dead; the +third was self-preparation for a vocation which alone seemed +likely to satisfy his cravings—that of an itinerant preacher of +the eleventh commandment. It was difficult to believe that +Thomasin would be cheered by a husband with such tendencies as +these.</p> + +<p>Yet he resolved to ask her, and let her decide for herself. It was +even with a pleasant sense of doing his duty that he went +downstairs to her one evening for this purpose, when the sun was +printing on the valley the same long shadow of the housetop that +he had seen lying there times out of number while his mother +lived.</p> + +<p>Thomasin was not in her room, and he found her in the front +garden. "I have long been wanting, Thomasin," he began, "to say +something about a matter that concerns both our futures."</p> + +<p>"And you are going to say it now?" she remarked quickly, colouring +as she met his gaze. "Do stop a minute, Clym, and let me speak +first, for oddly enough, I have been wanting to say something to +you."</p> + +<p>"By all means say on, Tamsie."</p> + +<p>"I suppose nobody can overhear us?" she went on, casting her eyes +around and lowering her voice. "Well, first you will promise me +this—that you won't be angry and call me anything harsh if you +disagree with what I propose?"</p> + +<p>Yeobright promised, and she continued: "What I want is your +advice, for you are my relation—I mean, a sort of guardian to +me—aren't you, Clym?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I suppose I am; a sort of guardian. In fact, I am, of +course," he said, altogether perplexed as to her drift.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking of marrying," she then observed blandly. "But I +shall not marry unless you assure me that you approve of such a +step. Why don't you speak?"</p> + +<p>"I was taken rather by surprise. But, nevertheless, I am very glad +to hear such news. I shall approve, of course, dear Tamsie. Who +can it be? I am quite at a loss to guess. No I am not—'tis the +old doctor!—not that I mean to call him old, for he is not very +old after all. Ah—I noticed when he attended you last time!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," she said hastily. "'Tis Mr. Venn."</p> + +<p>Clym's face suddenly became grave.</p> + +<p>"There, now, you don't like him, and I wish I hadn't mentioned +him!" she exclaimed almost petulantly. "And I shouldn't have done +it, either, only he keeps on bothering me so till I don't know +what to do!"</p> + +<p>Clym looked at the heath. "I like Venn well enough," he answered +at last. "He is a very honest and at the same time astute man. He +is clever too, as is proved by his having got you to favour him. +But really, Thomasin, he is not quite—"</p> + +<p>"Gentleman enough for me? That is just what I feel. I am sorry now +that I asked you, and I won't think any more of him. At the same +time I must marry him if I marry anybody—that I <i>will</i> say!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that," said Clym, carefully concealing every clue to +his own interrupted intention, which she plainly had not guessed. +"You might marry a professional man, or somebody of that sort, by +going into the town to live and forming acquaintances there."</p> + +<p>"I am not fit for town life—so very rural and silly as I always +have been. Do not you yourself notice my countrified ways?"</p> + +<p>"Well, when I came home from Paris I did, a little; but I don't +now."</p> + +<p>"That's because you have got countrified too. O, I couldn't live +in a street for the world! Egdon is a ridiculous old place; but I +have got used to it, and I couldn't be happy anywhere else at +all."</p> + +<p>"Neither could I," said Clym.</p> + +<p>"Then how could you say that I should marry some town man? I am +sure, say what you will, that I must marry Diggory, if I marry at +all. He has been kinder to me than anybody else, and has helped me +in many ways that I don't know of!" Thomasin almost pouted now.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has," said Clym in a neutral tone. "Well, I wish with all +my heart that I could say, marry him. But I cannot forget what my +mother thought on that matter, and it goes rather against me not +to respect her opinion. There is too much reason why we should do +the little we can to respect it now."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," sighed Thomasin. "I will say no more."</p> + +<p>"But you are not bound to obey my wishes. I merely say what I +think."</p> + +<p>"O no—I don't want to be rebellious in that way," she said sadly. +"I had no business to think of him—I ought to have thought of my +family. What dreadfully bad impulses there are in me!" Her lips +trembled, and she turned away to hide a tear.</p> + +<p>Clym, though vexed at what seemed her unaccountable taste, was in +a measure relieved to find that at any rate the marriage question +in relation to himself was shelved. Through several succeeding +days he saw her at different times from the window of his room +moping disconsolately about the garden. He was half angry with her +for choosing Venn; then he was grieved at having put himself in +the way of Venn's happiness, who was, after all, as honest and +persevering a young fellow as any on Egdon, since he had turned +over a new leaf. In short, Clym did not know what to do.</p> + +<p>When next they met she said abruptly, "He is much more respectable +now than he was then!"</p> + +<p>"Who? O yes—Diggory Venn."</p> + +<p>"Aunt only objected because he was a reddleman."</p> + +<p>"Well, Thomasin, perhaps I don't know all the particulars of my +mother's wish. So you had better use your own discretion."</p> + +<p>"You will always feel that I slighted your mother's memory."</p> + +<p>"No, I will not. I shall think you are convinced that, had she +seen Diggory in his present position, she would have considered +him a fitting husband for you. Now, that's my real feeling. Don't +consult me any more, but do as you like, Thomasin. I shall be +content."</p> + +<p>It is to be supposed that Thomasin was convinced; for a few days +after this, when Clym strayed into a part of the heath that he had +not lately visited, Humphrey, who was at work there, said to him, +"I am glad to see that Mrs. Wildeve and Venn have made it up +again, seemingly."</p> + +<p>"Have they?" said Clym abstractedly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and he do contrive to stumble upon her whenever she walks +out on fine days with the chiel. But, Mr. Yeobright, I can't help +feeling that your cousin ought to have married you. 'Tis a pity to +make two chimley-corners where there need be only one. You could +get her away from him now, 'tis my belief, if you were only to set +about it."</p> + +<p>"How can I have the conscience to marry after having driven two +women to their deaths? Don't think such a thing, Humphrey. After +my experience I should consider it too much of a burlesque to go +to church and take a wife. In the words of Job, 'I have made a +covenant with mine eyes; why then should I think upon a maid?'"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Clym, don't fancy that about driving two women to their +deaths. You shouldn't say it."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll leave that out," said Yeobright. "But anyhow God has +set a mark upon me which wouldn't look well in a lovemaking +scene. I have two ideas in my head, and no others. I am going to +keep a night-school; and I am going to turn preacher. What have +you got to say to that, Humphrey?"</p> + +<p>"I'll come and hear 'ee with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. 'Tis all I wish."</p> + +<p>As Clym descended into the valley Thomasin came down by the other +path, and met him at the gate. "What do you think I have to tell +you, Clym?" she said, looking archly over her shoulder at him.</p> + +<p>"I can guess," he replied.</p> + +<p>She scrutinized his face. "Yes, you guess right. It is going to be +after all. He thinks I may as well make up my mind, and I have got +to think so too. It is to be on the twenty-fifth of next month, if +you don't object."</p> + +<p>"Do what you think right, dear. I am only too glad that you see +your way clear to happiness again. My sex owes you every amends +for the treatment you received in days gone by."</p> + + +<p><a name="6-4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<h3>Cheerfulness Again Asserts Itself at Blooms-End,<br /> + and Clym Finds His Vocation<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Anybody who had passed through Blooms-End about eleven o'clock on +the morning fixed for the wedding would have found that, while +Yeobright's house was comparatively quiet, sounds denoting great +activity came from the dwelling of his nearest neighbour, Timothy +Fairway. It was chiefly a noise of feet, briskly crunching hither +and thither over the sanded floor within. One man only was visible +outside, and he seemed to be later at an appointment than he had +intended to be, for he hastened up to the door, lifted the latch, +and walked in without ceremony.</p> + +<p>The scene within was not quite the customary one. Standing about +the room was the little knot of men who formed the chief part of +the Egdon coterie, there being present Fairway himself, Grandfer +Cantle, Humphrey, Christian, and one or two turf-cutters. It was a +warm day, and the men were as a matter of course in their +shirtsleeves, except Christian, who had always a nervous fear of +parting with a scrap of his clothing when in anybody's house but +his own. Across the stout oak table in the middle of the room was +thrown a mass of striped linen, which Grandfer Cantle held down on +one side, and Humphrey on the other, while Fairway rubbed its +surface with a yellow lump, his face being damp and creased with +the effort of the labour.</p> + +<p>"Waxing a bed-tick, souls?" said the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sam," said Grandfer Cantle, as a man too busy to waste +words. "Shall I stretch this corner a shade tighter, Timothy?"</p> + +<p>Fairway replied, and the waxing went on with unabated vigour. +"'Tis going to be a good bed, by the look o't," continued Sam, +after an interval of silence. "Who may it be for?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis a present for the new folks that's going to set up +housekeeping," said Christian, who stood helpless and overcome by +the majesty of the proceedings.</p> + +<p>"Ah, to be sure; and a valuable one, 'a b'lieve."</p> + +<p>"Beds be dear to fokes that don't keep geese, bain't they, Mister +Fairway?" said Christian, as to an omniscient being.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the furze-dealer, standing up, giving his forehead a +thorough mopping, and handing the beeswax to Humphrey, who +succeeded at the rubbing forthwith. "Not that this couple be in +want of one, but 'twas well to show 'em a bit of friendliness at +this great racketing vagary of their lives. I set up both my own +daughters in one when they was married, and there have been +feathers enough for another in the house the last twelve months. +Now then, neighbours, I think we have laid on enough wax. Grandfer +Cantle, you turn the tick the right way outwards, and then I'll +begin to shake in the feathers."</p> + +<p>When the bed was in proper trim Fairway and Christian brought +forward vast paper bags, stuffed to the full, but light as +balloons, and began to turn the contents of each into the +receptacle just prepared. As bag after bag was emptied, airy tufts +of down and feathers floated about the room in increasing quantity +till, through a mishap of Christian's, who shook the contents of +one bag outside the tick, the atmosphere of the room became dense +with gigantic flakes, which descended upon the workers like a +windless snowstorm.</p> + +<p>"I never saw such a clumsy chap as you, Christian," said Grandfer +Cantle severely. "You might have been the son of a man that's +never been outside Blooms-End in his life for all the wit you +have. Really all the soldiering and smartness in the world in the +father seems to count for nothing in forming the nater of the son. +As far as that chiel Christian is concerned I might as well have +stayed at home and seed nothing, like all the rest of ye here. +Though, as far as myself is concerned, a dashing spirit has +counted for sommat, to be sure!"</p> + +<p>"Don't ye let me down so, father; I feel no bigger than a ninepin +after it. I've made but a bruckle hit, I'm afeard."</p> + +<p>"Come, come. Never pitch yerself in such a low key as that, +Christian; you should try more," said Fairway.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you should try more," echoed the Grandfer with insistence, +as if he had been the first to make the suggestion. "In common +conscience every man ought either to marry or go for a soldier. +'Tis a scandal to the nation to do neither one nor t'other. I did +both, thank God! Neither to raise men nor to lay 'em low—that +shows a poor do-nothing spirit indeed."</p> + +<p>"I never had the nerve to stand fire," faltered Christian. "But as +to marrying, I own I've asked here and there, though without much +fruit from it. Yes, there's some house or other that might have +had a man for a master—such as he is—that's now ruled by a woman +alone. Still it might have been awkward if I had found her; for, +d'ye see, neighbours, there'd have been nobody left at home to +keep down father's spirits to the decent pitch that becomes a old +man."</p> + +<p>"And you've your work cut out to do that, my son," said Grandfer +Cantle smartly. "I wish that the dread of infirmities was not so +strong in me!—I'd start the very first thing tomorrow to see the +world over again! But seventy-one, though nothing at home, is a +high figure for a rover… Ay, seventy-one, last Candlemasday. +Gad, I'd sooner have it in guineas than in years!" And the old man +sighed.</p> + +<p>"Don't you be mournful, Grandfer," said Fairway. "Empt some more +feathers into the bed-tick, and keep up yer heart. Though rather +lean in the stalks you be a green-leaved old man still. There's +time enough left to ye yet to fill whole chronicles."</p> + +<p>"Begad, I'll go to 'em, Timothy—to the married pair!" said +Granfer Cantle in an encouraged voice, and starting round briskly. +"I'll go to 'em tonight and sing a wedding song, hey? 'Tis like me +to do so, you know; and they'd see it as such. My 'Down in Cupid's +Gardens' was well liked in four; still, I've got others as good, +and even better. What do you say to my<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind2">She +cal´-led to´ her love´</span><br /> +<span class="ind2">From the lat´-tice a-bove,</span><br /> +'O come in´ from +the fog´-gy fog´-gy dew´.'<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"'Twould please 'em well at such a time! Really, now I come to +think of it, I haven't turned my tongue in my head to the shape of +a real good song since Old Midsummer night, when we had the +'Barley Mow' at the Woman; and 'tis a pity to neglect your strong +point where there's few that have the compass for such things!"</p> + +<p>"So 'tis, so 'tis," said Fairway. "Now gie the bed a shake down. +We've put in seventy pound of best feathers, and I think that's +as many as the tick will fairly hold. A bit and a drap wouldn't be +amiss now, I reckon. Christian, maul down the victuals from +corner-cupboard if canst reach, man, and I'll draw a drap o' +sommat to wet it with."</p> + +<p>They sat down to a lunch in the midst of their work, feathers +around, above, and below them; the original owners of which +occasionally came to the open door and cackled begrudgingly at +sight of such a quantity of their old clothes.</p> + +<p>"Upon my soul I shall be chokt," said Fairway when, having +extracted a feather from his mouth, he found several others +floating on the mug as it was handed round.</p> + +<p>"I've swallered several; and one had a tolerable quill," said Sam +placidly from the corner.</p> + +<p>"Hullo—what's that—wheels I hear coming?" Grandfer Cantle +exclaimed, jumping up and hastening to the door. "Why, 'tis they +back again: I didn't expect 'em yet this half-hour. To be sure, +how quick marrying can be done when you are in the mind for't!"</p> + +<p>"O yes, it can soon be <i>done</i>," said Fairway, as if +something should be added to make the statement complete.</p> + +<p>He arose and followed the Grandfer, and the rest also went to the +door. In a moment an open fly was driven past, in which sat Venn +and Mrs. Venn, Yeobright, and a grand relative of Venn's who had +come from Budmouth for the occasion. The fly had been hired at the +nearest town, regardless of distance and cost, there being nothing +on Egdon Heath, in Venn's opinion, dignified enough for such an +event when such a woman as Thomasin was the bride; and the church +was too remote for a walking bridal-party.</p> + +<p>As the fly passed the group which had run out from the homestead +they shouted "Hurrah!" and waved their hands; feathers and down +floating from their hair, their sleeves, and the folds of their +garments at every motion, and Grandfer Cantle's seals dancing +merrily in the sunlight as he twirled himself about. The driver of +the fly turned a supercilious gaze upon them; he even treated the +wedded pair themselves with something like condescension; for in +what other state than heathen could people, rich or poor, exist +who were doomed to abide in such a world's end as Egdon? Thomasin +showed no such superiority to the group at the door, fluttering +her hand as quickly as a bird's wing towards them, and asking +Diggory, with tears in her eyes, if they ought not to alight and +speak to these kind neighbours. Venn, however, suggested that, as +they were all coming to the house in the evening, this was hardly +necessary.</p> + +<p>After this excitement the saluting party returned to their +occupation, and the stuffing and sewing were soon afterwards +finished, when Fairway harnessed a horse, wrapped up the cumbrous +present, and drove off with it in the cart to Venn's house at +Stickleford.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Yeobright, having filled the office at the wedding service which +naturally fell to his hands, and afterwards returned to the house +with the husband and wife, was indisposed to take part in the +feasting and dancing that wound up the evening. Thomasin was +disappointed.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could be there without dashing your spirits," he said. +"But I might be too much like the skull at the banquet."</p> + +<p>"No, no."</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, apart from that, if you would excuse me, I should be +glad. I know it seems unkind; but, dear Thomasin, I fear I should +not be happy in the company—there, that's the truth of it. I +shall always be coming to see you at your new home, you know, so +that my absence now will not matter."</p> + +<p>"Then I give in. Do whatever will be most comfortable to +yourself."</p> + +<p>Clym retired to his lodging at the housetop much relieved, and +occupied himself during the afternoon in noting down the heads of +a sermon, with which he intended to initiate all that really +seemed practicable of the scheme that had originally brought him +hither, and that he had so long kept in view under various +modifications, and through evil and good report. He had tested and +weighed his convictions again and again, and saw no reason to +alter them, though he had considerably lessened his plan. His +eyesight, by long humouring in his native air, had grown stronger, +but not sufficiently strong to warrant his attempting his +extensive educational project. Yet he did not repine: there was +still more than enough of an unambitious sort to tax all his +energies and occupy all his hours.</p> + +<p>Evening drew on, and sounds of life and movement in the lower part +of the domicile became more pronounced, the gate in the palings +clicking incessantly. The party was to be an early one, and all +the guests were assembled long before it was dark. Yeobright went +down the back staircase and into the heath by another path than +that in front, intending to walk in the open air till the party +was over, when he would return to wish Thomasin and her husband +good-bye as they departed. His steps were insensibly bent towards +Mistover by the path that he had followed on that terrible morning +when he learnt the strange news from Susan's boy.</p> + +<p>He did not turn aside to the cottage, but pushed on to an +eminence, whence he could see over the whole quarter that had once +been Eustacia's home. While he stood observing the darkening scene +somebody came up. Clym, seeing him but dimly, would have let him +pass silently, had not the pedestrian, who was Charley, recognized +the young man and spoken to him.</p> + +<p>"Charley, I have not seen you for a length of time," said +Yeobright. "Do you often walk this way?"</p> + +<p>"No," the lad replied. "I don't often come outside the bank."</p> + +<p>"You were not at the Maypole."</p> + +<p>"No," said Charley, in the same listless tone. "I don't care for +that sort of thing now."</p> + +<p>"You rather liked Miss Eustacia, didn't you?" Yeobright gently +asked. Eustacia had frequently told him of Charley's romantic +attachment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very much. Ah, I wish—"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I wish, Mr. Yeobright, you could give me something to keep that +once belonged to her—if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"I shall be very happy to. It will give me very great pleasure, +Charley. Let me think what I have of hers that you would like. But +come with me to the house, and I'll see."</p> + +<p>They walked towards Blooms-End together. When they reached the +front it was dark, and the shutters were closed, so that nothing +of the interior could be seen.</p> + +<p>"Come round this way," said Clym. "My entrance is at the back for +the present."</p> + +<p>The two went round and ascended the crooked stair in darkness till +Clym's sitting-room on the upper floor was reached, where he lit a +candle, Charley entering gently behind. Yeobright searched his +desk, and taking out a sheet of tissue-paper unfolded from it two +or three undulating locks of raven hair, which fell over the paper +like black streams. From these he selected one, wrapped it up, and +gave it to the lad, whose eyes had filled with tears. He kissed +the packet, put it in his pocket, and said in a voice of emotion, +"O, Mr. Clym, how good you are to me!"</p> + +<p>"I will go a little way with you," said Clym. And amid the noise +of merriment from below they descended. Their path to the front +led them close to a little side-window, whence the rays of candles +streamed across the shrubs. The window, being screened from +general observation by the bushes, had been left unblinded, so +that a person in this private nook could see all that was going on +within the room which contained the wedding-guests, except in so +far as vision was hindered by the green antiquity of the panes.</p> + +<p>"Charley, what are they doing?" said Clym. "My sight is weaker +again tonight, and the glass of this window is not good."</p> + +<p>Charley wiped his own eyes, which were rather blurred with +moisture, and stepped closer to the casement. "Mr. Venn is asking +Christian Cantle to sing," he replied, "and Christian is moving +about in his chair as if he were much frightened at the question, +and his father has struck up a stave instead of him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can hear the old man's voice," said Clym. "So there's to +be no dancing, I suppose. And is Thomasin in the room? I see +something moving in front of the candles that resembles her shape, +I think."</p> + +<p>"Yes. She do seem happy. She is red in the face, and laughing at +something Fairway has said to her. O my!"</p> + +<p>"What noise was that?" said Clym.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Venn is so tall that he knocked his head against the beam in +gieing a skip as he passed under. Mrs. Venn has run up quite +frightened and now she's put her hand to his head to feel if +there's a lump. And now they be all laughing again as if nothing +had happened."</p> + +<p>"Do any of them seem to care about my not being there?" Clym +asked.</p> + +<p>"No, not a bit in the world. Now they are all holding up their +glasses and drinking somebody's health."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if it is mine?"</p> + +<p>"No, 'tis Mr. and Mrs. Venn's, because he is making a hearty sort +of speech. There—now Mrs. Venn has got up, and is going away to +put on her things, I think."</p> + +<p>"Well, they haven't concerned themselves about me, and it is quite +right they should not. It is all as it should be, and Thomasin at +least is happy. We will not stay any longer now, as they will soon +be coming out to go home."</p> + +<p>He accompanied the lad into the heath on his way home, and, +returning alone to the house a quarter of an hour later, found +Venn and Thomasin ready to start, all the guests having departed +in his absence. The wedded pair took their seats in the +four-wheeled dogcart which Venn's head milker and handy man had +driven from Stickleford to fetch them in; little Eustacia and the +nurse were packed securely upon the open flap behind; and the +milker, on an ancient overstepping pony, whose shoes clashed like +cymbals at every tread, rode in the rear, in the manner of a +body-servant of the last century.</p> + +<p>"Now we leave you in absolute possession of your own house again," +said Thomasin as she bent down to wish her cousin good night. "It +will be rather lonely for you, Clym, after the hubbub we have been +making."</p> + +<p>"O, that's no inconvenience," said Clym, smiling rather sadly. And +then the party drove off and vanished in the night shades, and +Yeobright entered the house. The ticking of the clock was the only +sound that greeted him, for not a soul remained; Christian, who +acted as cook, valet, and gardener to Clym, sleeping at his +father's house. Yeobright sat down in one of the vacant chairs, +and remained in thought a long time. His mother's old chair was +opposite; it had been sat in that evening by those who had +scarcely remembered that it ever was hers. But to Clym she was +almost a presence there, now as always. Whatever she was in other +people's memories, in his she was the sublime saint whose radiance +even his tenderness for Eustacia could not obscure. But his heart +was heavy; that mother had <i>not</i> crowned him in the day of his +espousals and in the day of the gladness of his heart. And events +had borne out the accuracy of her judgment, and proved the +devotedness of her care. He should have heeded her for Eustacia's +sake even more than for his own. "It was all my fault," he +whispered. "O, my mother, my mother! would to God that I could +live my life again, and endure for you what you endured for me!"</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>On the Sunday after this wedding an unusual sight was to be seen +on Rainbarrow. From a distance there simply appeared to be a +motionless figure standing on the top of the tumulus, just as +Eustacia had stood on that lonely summit some two years and a half +before. But now it was fine warm weather, with only a summer +breeze blowing, and early afternoon instead of dull twilight. +Those who ascended to the immediate neighbourhood of the Barrow +perceived that the erect form in the centre, piercing the sky, was +not really alone. Round him upon the slopes of the Barrow a number +of heathmen and women were reclining or sitting at their ease. +They listened to the words of the man in their midst, who was +preaching, while they abstractedly pulled heather, stripped ferns, +or tossed pebbles down the slope. This was the first of a series +of moral lectures or Sermons on the Mount, which were to be +delivered from the same place every Sunday afternoon as long as +the fine weather lasted.</p> + +<p>The commanding elevation of Rainbarrow had been chosen for two +reasons: first, that it occupied a central position among the +remote cottages around; secondly, that the preacher thereon could +be seen from all adjacent points as soon as he arrived at his +post, the view of him being thus a convenient signal to those +stragglers who wished to draw near. The speaker was bareheaded, +and the breeze at each waft gently lifted and lowered his hair, +somewhat too thin for a man of his years, these still numbering +less than thirty-three. He wore a shade over his eyes, and his +face was pensive and lined; but, though these bodily features were +marked with decay there was no defect in the tones of his voice, +which were rich, musical, and stirring. He stated that his +discourses to people were to be sometimes secular, and sometimes +religious, but never dogmatic; and that his texts would be taken +from all kinds of books. This afternoon the words were as +follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>"'And the king rose up to meet her, and bowed himself unto her, +and sat down on his throne, and caused a seat to be set for the +king's mother; and she sat on his right hand. Then she said, I +desire one small petition of thee; I pray thee say me not nay. And +the king said unto her, Ask, on, my mother: for I will not say +thee nay.'"<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Yeobright had, in fact, found his vocation in the career of an +itinerant open-air preacher and lecturer on morally unimpeachable +subjects; and from this day he laboured incessantly in that +office, speaking not only in simple language on Rainbarrow and in +the hamlets round, but in a more cultivated strain elsewhere—from +the steps and porticoes of town-halls, from market-crosses, from +conduits, on esplanades and on wharves, from the parapets of +bridges, in barns and outhouses, and all other such places in the +neighbouring Wessex towns and villages. He left alone creeds and +systems of philosophy, finding enough and more than enough to +occupy his tongue in the opinions and actions common to all good +men. Some believed him, and some believed not; some said that his +words were commonplace, others complained of his want of +theological doctrine; while others again remarked that it was well +enough for a man to take to preaching who could not see to do +anything else. But everywhere he was kindly received, for the +story of his life had become generally known. </p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 17500-h.txt or 17500-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/5/0/17500">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/0/17500</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Return of the Native + + +Author: Thomas Hardy + + + +Release Date: January 12, 2006 [eBook #17500] +Most recently updated: March 13, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE*** + + +E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D., and John Hamm + + + +THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE + +by + +THOMAS HARDY + +1912 + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + AUTHOR'S PREFACE + + BOOK FIRST: THE THREE WOMEN + + I. A Face on Which Time Makes But Little Impression + II. Humanity Appears upon the Scene, Hand in Hand with Trouble + III. The Custom of the Country + IV. The Halt on the Turnpike Road + V. Perplexity among Honest People + VI. The Figure against the Sky + VII. Queen of Night + VIII. Those Who Are Found Where There Is Said to Be Nobody + IX. Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy + X. A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion + XI. The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman + + BOOK SECOND: THE ARRIVAL + + I. Tidings of the Comer + II. The People at Blooms-End Make Ready + III. How a Little Sound Produced a Great Dream + IV. Eustacia Is Led On to an Adventure + V. Through the Moonlight + VI. The Two Stand Face to Face + VII. A Coalition between Beauty and Oddness + VIII. Firmness Is Discovered in a Gentle Heart + + BOOK THIRD: THE FASCINATION + + I. "My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is" + II. The New Course Causes Disappointment + III. The First Act in a Timeworn Drama + IV. An Hour of Bliss and Many Hours of Sadness + V. Sharp Words Are Spoken, and a Crisis Ensues + VI. Yeobright Goes, and the Breach Is Complete + VII. The Morning and the Evening of a Day + VIII. A New Force Disturbs the Current + + BOOK FOURTH: THE CLOSED DOOR + + I. The Rencounter by the Pool + II. He Is Set Upon by Adversities; but He Sings a Song + III. She Goes Out to Battle against Depression + IV. Rough Coercion Is Employed + V. The Journey across the Heath + VI. A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian + VII. The Tragic Meeting of Two Old Friends + VIII. Eustacia Hears of Good Fortune, and Beholds Evil + + BOOK FIFTH: THE DISCOVERY + + I. "Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery" + II. A Lurid Light Breaks In upon a Darkened Understanding + III. Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning + IV. The Ministrations of a Half-Forgotten One + V. An Old Move Inadvertently Repeated + VI. Thomasin Argues with Her Cousin, and He Writes a Letter + VII. The Night of the Sixth of November + VIII. Rain, Darkness, and Anxious Wanderers + IX. Sights and Sounds Draw the Wanderers Together + + BOOK SIXTH: AFTERCOURSES + + I. The Inevitable Movement Onward + II. Thomasin Walks in a Green Place by the Roman Road + III. The Serious Discourse of Clym with His Cousin + IV. Cheerfulness Again Asserts Itself at Blooms-End, + and Clym Finds His Vocation + + + + + + "To sorrow + I bade good morrow, + And thought to leave her far away behind; + But cheerly, cheerly, + She loves me dearly; + She is so constant to me, and so kind. + I would deceive her, + And so leave her, + But ah! she is so constant and so kind." + + + + + +AUTHOR'S PREFACE + + +The date at which the following events are assumed to have occurred +may be set down as between 1840 and 1850, when the old watering-place +herein called "Budmouth" still retained sufficient afterglow from its +Georgian gaiety and prestige to lend it an absorbing attractiveness to +the romantic and imaginative soul of a lonely dweller inland. + +Under the general name of "Egdon Heath," which has been given to the +sombre scene of the story, are united or typified heaths of various +real names, to the number of at least a dozen; these being virtually +one in character and aspect, though their original unity, or partial +unity, is now somewhat disguised by intrusive strips and slices +brought under the plough with varying degrees of success, or planted +to woodland. + +It is pleasant to dream that some spot in the extensive tract whose +south-western quarter is here described, may be the heath of that +traditionary King of Wessex--Lear. + +July 1895 + + + +POSTSCRIPT + + +To prevent disappointment to searchers for scenery it should be added +that though the action of the narrative is supposed to proceed in the +central and most secluded part of the heaths united into one whole, +as above described, certain topographical features resembling those +delineated really lie on the margin of the waste, several miles to the +westward of the centre. In some other respects also there has been a +bringing together of scattered characteristics. + +The first edition of this novel was published in three volumes in +1878. + +April 1912 T. H. + + + + +BOOK FIRST +THE THREE WOMEN + + +I + +A Face on Which Time Makes But Little Impression + + +A Saturday afternoon in November was approaching the time of twilight, +and the vast tract of unenclosed wild known as Egdon Heath embrowned +itself moment by moment. Overhead the hollow stretch of whitish cloud +shutting out the sky was as a tent which had the whole heath for its +floor. + +The heaven being spread with this pallid screen and the earth with +the darkest vegetation, their meeting-line at the horizon was +clearly marked. In such contrast the heath wore the appearance of +an instalment of night which had taken up its place before its +astronomical hour was come: darkness had to a great extent arrived +hereon, while day stood distinct in the sky. Looking upwards, a +furze-cutter would have been inclined to continue work; looking down, +he would have decided to finish his faggot and go home. The distant +rims of the world and of the firmament seemed to be a division in time +no less than a division in matter. The face of the heath by its mere +complexion added half an hour to evening; it could in like manner +retard the dawn, sadden noon, anticipate the frowning of storms +scarcely generated, and intensify the opacity of a moonless midnight +to a cause of shaking and dread. + +In fact, precisely at this transitional point of its nightly roll into +darkness the great and particular glory of the Egdon waste began, and +nobody could be said to understand the heath who had not been there at +such a time. It could best be felt when it could not clearly be seen, +its complete effect and explanation lying in this and the succeeding +hours before the next dawn; then, and only then, did it tell its true +tale. The spot was, indeed, a near relation of night, and when night +showed itself an apparent tendency to gravitate together could be +perceived in its shades and the scene. The sombre stretch of rounds +and hollows seemed to rise and meet the evening gloom in pure +sympathy, the heath exhaling darkness as rapidly as the heavens +precipitated it. And so the obscurity in the air and the obscurity in +the land closed together in a black fraternization towards which each +advanced half-way. + +The place became full of a watchful intentness now; for when other +things sank brooding to sleep the heath appeared slowly to awake and +listen. Every night its Titanic form seemed to await something; but +it had waited thus, unmoved, during so many centuries, through the +crises of so many things, that it could only be imagined to await one +last crisis--the final overthrow. + +It was a spot which returned upon the memory of those who loved it +with an aspect of peculiar and kindly congruity. Smiling champaigns of +flowers and fruit hardly do this, for they are permanently harmonious +only with an existence of better reputation as to its issues than the +present. Twilight combined with the scenery of Egdon Heath to evolve +a thing majestic without severity, impressive without showiness, +emphatic in its admonitions, grand in its simplicity. The +qualifications which frequently invest the facade of a prison with far +more dignity than is found in the facade of a palace double its size +lent to this heath a sublimity in which spots renowned for beauty of +the accepted kind are utterly wanting. Fair prospects wed happily +with fair times; but alas, if times be not fair! Men have oftener +suffered from the mockery of a place too smiling for their reason +than from the oppression of surroundings oversadly tinged. Haggard +Egdon appealed to a subtler and scarcer instinct, to a more recently +learnt emotion, than that which responds to the sort of beauty called +charming and fair. + +Indeed, it is a question if the exclusive reign of this orthodox +beauty is not approaching its last quarter. The new Vale of Tempe +may be a gaunt waste in Thule; human souls may find themselves in +closer and closer harmony with external things wearing a sombreness +distasteful to our race when it was young. The time seems near, if it +has not actually arrived, when the chastened sublimity of a moor, a +sea, or a mountain will be all of nature that is absolutely in keeping +with the moods of the more thinking among mankind. And ultimately, +to the commonest tourist, spots like Iceland may become what the +vineyards and myrtle-gardens of South Europe are to him now; and +Heidelberg and Baden be passed unheeded as he hastens from the Alps to +the sand-dunes of Scheveningen. + +The most thorough-going ascetic could feel that he had a natural right +to wander on Egdon: he was keeping within the line of legitimate +indulgence when he laid himself open to influences such as these. +Colours and beauties so far subdued were, at least, the birthright of +all. Only in summer days of highest feather did its mood touch the +level of gaiety. Intensity was more usually reached by way of the +solemn than by way of the brilliant, and such a sort of intensity was +often arrived at during winter darkness, tempests, and mists. Then +Egdon was aroused to reciprocity; for the storm was its lover, and +the wind its friend. Then it became the home of strange phantoms; and +it was found to be the hitherto unrecognized original of those wild +regions of obscurity which are vaguely felt to be compassing us about +in midnight dreams of flight and disaster, and are never thought of +after the dream till revived by scenes like this. + +It was at present a place perfectly accordant with man's +nature--neither ghastly, hateful, nor ugly; neither commonplace, +unmeaning, nor tame; but, like man, slighted and enduring; and withal +singularly colossal and mysterious in its swarthy monotony. As with +some persons who have long lived apart, solitude seemed to look +out of its countenance. It had a lonely face, suggesting tragical +possibilities. + +This obscure, obsolete, superseded country figures in Domesday. +Its condition is recorded therein as that of heathy, furzy, briary +wilderness--"Bruaria." Then follows the length and breadth in +leagues; and, though some uncertainty exists as to the exact extent of +this ancient lineal measure, it appears from the figures that the area +of Egdon down to the present day has but little diminished. "Turbaria +Bruaria"--the right of cutting heath-turf--occurs in charters relating +to the district. "Overgrown with heth and mosse," says Leland of the +same dark sweep of country. + +Here at least were intelligible facts regarding +landscape--far-reaching proofs productive of genuine satisfaction. +The untameable, Ishmaelitish thing that Egdon now was it always had +been. Civilization was its enemy; and ever since the beginning of +vegetation its soil had worn the same antique brown dress, the natural +and invariable garment of the particular formation. In its venerable +one coat lay a certain vein of satire on human vanity in clothes. A +person on a heath in raiment of modern cut and colours has more or +less an anomalous look. We seem to want the oldest and simplest human +clothing where the clothing of the earth is so primitive. + +To recline on a stump of thorn in the central valley of Egdon, between +afternoon and night, as now, where the eye could reach nothing of the +world outside the summits and shoulders of heathland which filled the +whole circumference of its glance, and to know that everything around +and underneath had been from prehistoric times as unaltered as the +stars overhead, gave ballast to the mind adrift on change, and +harassed by the irrepressible New. The great inviolate place had +an ancient permanence which the sea cannot claim. Who can say of a +particular sea that it is old? Distilled by the sun, kneaded by the +moon, it is renewed in a year, in a day, or in an hour. The sea +changed, the fields changed, the rivers, the villages, and the people +changed, yet Egdon remained. Those surfaces were neither so steep as +to be destructible by weather, nor so flat as to be the victims of +floods and deposits. With the exception of an aged highway, and a +still more aged barrow presently to be referred to--themselves almost +crystallized to natural products by long continuance--even the +trifling irregularities were not caused by pickaxe, plough, or spade, +but remained as the very finger-touches of the last geological change. + + +The above-mentioned highway traversed the lower levels of the heath, +from one horizon to another. In many portions of its course it +overlaid an old vicinal way, which branched from the great Western +road of the Romans, the Via Iceniana, or Ikenild Street, hard by. +On the evening under consideration it would have been noticed that, +though the gloom had increased sufficiently to confuse the minor +features of the heath, the white surface of the road remained almost +as clear as ever. + + + + +II + +Humanity Appears upon the Scene, Hand in Hand with Trouble + + +Along the road walked an old man. He was white-headed as a mountain, +bowed in the shoulders, and faded in general aspect. He wore a +glazed hat, an ancient boat-cloak, and shoes; his brass buttons +bearing an anchor upon their face. In his hand was a silver-headed +walking-stick, which he used as a veritable third leg, perseveringly +dotting the ground with its point at every few inches' interval. One +would have said that he had been, in his day, a naval officer of some +sort or other. + +Before him stretched the long, laborious road, dry, empty, and white. +It was quite open to the heath on each side, and bisected that +vast dark surface like the parting-line on a head of black hair, +diminishing and bending away on the furthest horizon. + +The old man frequently stretched his eyes ahead to gaze over the tract +that he had yet to traverse. At length he discerned, a long distance +in front of him, a moving spot, which appeared to be a vehicle, and +it proved to be going the same way as that in which he himself was +journeying. It was the single atom of life that the scene contained, +and it only served to render the general loneliness more evident. Its +rate of advance was slow, and the old man gained upon it sensibly. + +When he drew nearer he perceived it to be a spring van, ordinary in +shape, but singular in colour, this being a lurid red. The driver +walked beside it; and, like his van, he was completely red. One dye +of that tincture covered his clothes, the cap upon his head, his +boots, his face, and his hands. He was not temporarily overlaid with +the colour; it permeated him. + +The old man knew the meaning of this. The traveller with the cart +was a reddleman--a person whose vocation it was to supply farmers +with redding for their sheep. He was one of a class rapidly becoming +extinct in Wessex, filling at present in the rural world the place +which, during the last century, the dodo occupied in the world of +animals. He is a curious, interesting, and nearly perished link +between obsolete forms of life and those which generally prevail. + +The decayed officer, by degrees, came up alongside his +fellow-wayfarer, and wished him good evening. The reddleman turned +his head, and replied in sad and occupied tones. He was young, and +his face, if not exactly handsome, approached so near to handsome that +nobody would have contradicted an assertion that it really was so in +its natural colour. His eye, which glared so strangely through his +stain, was in itself attractive--keen as that of a bird of prey, and +blue as autumn mist. He had neither whisker nor moustache, which +allowed the soft curves of the lower part of his face to be apparent. +His lips were thin, and though, as it seemed, compressed by thought, +there was a pleasant twitch at their corners now and then. He was +clothed throughout in a tight-fitting suit of corduroy, excellent in +quality, not much worn, and well-chosen for its purpose, but deprived +of its original colour by his trade. It showed to advantage the good +shape of his figure. A certain well-to-do air about the man suggested +that he was not poor for his degree. The natural query of an observer +would have been, Why should such a promising being as this have hidden +his prepossessing exterior by adopting that singular occupation? + +After replying to the old man's greeting he showed no inclination to +continue in talk, although they still walked side by side, for the +elder traveller seemed to desire company. There were no sounds but +that of the booming wind upon the stretch of tawny herbage around +them, the crackling wheels, the tread of the men, and the footsteps +of the two shaggy ponies which drew the van. They were small, hardy +animals, of a breed between Galloway and Exmoor, and were known as +"heath-croppers" here. + +Now, as they thus pursued their way, the reddleman occasionally left +his companion's side, and, stepping behind the van, looked into its +interior through a small window. The look was always anxious. He +would then return to the old man, who made another remark about +the state of the country and so on, to which the reddleman again +abstractedly replied, and then again they would lapse into silence. +The silence conveyed to neither any sense of awkwardness; in these +lonely places wayfarers, after a first greeting, frequently plod on +for miles without speech; contiguity amounts to a tacit conversation +where, otherwise than in cities, such contiguity can be put an end +to on the merest inclination, and where not to put an end to it is +intercourse in itself. + +Possibly these two might not have spoken again till their parting, had +it not been for the reddleman's visits to his van. When he returned +from his fifth time of looking in the old man said, "You have +something inside there besides your load?" + +"Yes." + +"Somebody who wants looking after?" + +"Yes." + +Not long after this a faint cry sounded from the interior. The +reddleman hastened to the back, looked in, and came away again. + +"You have a child there, my man?" + +"No, sir, I have a woman." + +"The deuce you have! Why did she cry out?" + +"Oh, she has fallen asleep, and not being used to traveling, she's +uneasy, and keeps dreaming." + +"A young woman?" + +"Yes, a young woman." + +"That would have interested me forty years ago. Perhaps she's your +wife?" + +"My wife!" said the other bitterly. "She's above mating with such as +I. But there's no reason why I should tell you about that." + +"That's true. And there's no reason why you should not. What harm +can I do to you or to her?" + +The reddleman looked in the old man's face. "Well, sir," he said at +last, "I knew her before today, though perhaps it would have been +better if I had not. But she's nothing to me, and I am nothing to +her; and she wouldn't have been in my van if any better carriage had +been there to take her." + +"Where, may I ask?" + +"At Anglebury." + +"I know the town well. What was she doing there?" + +"Oh, not much--to gossip about. However, she's tired to death now, +and not at all well, and that's what makes her so restless. She +dropped off into a nap about an hour ago, and 'twill do her good." + +"A nice-looking girl, no doubt?" + +"You would say so." + +The other traveller turned his eyes with interest towards the van +window, and, without withdrawing them, said, "I presume I might look +in upon her?" + +"No," said the reddleman abruptly. "It is getting too dark for you to +see much of her; and, more than that, I have no right to allow you. +Thank God she sleeps so well: I hope she won't wake till she's home." + +"Who is she? One of the neighbourhood?" + +"'Tis no matter who, excuse me." + +"It is not that girl of Blooms-End, who has been talked about more or +less lately? If so, I know her; and I can guess what has happened." + +"'Tis no matter... Now, sir, I am sorry to say that we shall soon have +to part company. My ponies are tired, and I have further to go, and I +am going to rest them under this bank for an hour." + +The elder traveller nodded his head indifferently, and the reddleman +turned his horses and van in upon the turf, saying, "Good night." The +old man replied, and proceeded on his way as before. + +The reddleman watched his form as it diminished to a speck on the road +and became absorbed in the thickening films of night. He then took +some hay from a truss which was slung up under the van, and, throwing +a portion of it in front of the horses, made a pad of the rest, +which he laid on the ground beside his vehicle. Upon this he sat +down, leaning his back against the wheel. From the interior a low +soft breathing came to his ear. It appeared to satisfy him, and he +musingly surveyed the scene, as if considering the next step that he +should take. + +To do things musingly, and by small degrees, seemed, indeed, to be +a duty in the Egdon valleys at this transitional hour, for there +was that in the condition of the heath itself which resembled +protracted and halting dubiousness. It was the quality of the repose +appertaining to the scene. This was not the repose of actual +stagnation, but the apparent repose of incredible slowness. A +condition of healthy life so nearly resembling the torpor of death +is a noticeable thing of its sort; to exhibit the inertness of the +desert, and at the same time to be exercising powers akin to those of +the meadow, and even of the forest, awakened in those who thought of +it the attentiveness usually engendered by understatement and reserve. + + +The scene before the reddleman's eyes was a gradual series of ascents +from the level of the road backward into the heart of the heath. It +embraced hillocks, pits, ridges, acclivities, one behind the other, +till all was finished by a high hill cutting against the still light +sky. The traveller's eye hovered about these things for a time, and +finally settled upon one noteworthy object up there. It was a barrow. +This bossy projection of earth above its natural level occupied the +loftiest ground of the loneliest height that the heath contained. +Although from the vale it appeared but as a wart on an Atlantean +brow, its actual bulk was great. It formed the pole and axis of this +heathery world. + +As the resting man looked at the barrow he became aware that its +summit, hitherto the highest object in the whole prospect round, was +surmounted by something higher. It rose from the semi-globular mound +like a spike from a helmet. The first instinct of an imaginative +stranger might have been to suppose it the person of one of the Celts +who built the barrow, so far had all of modern date withdrawn from the +scene. It seemed a sort of last man among them, musing for a moment +before dropping into eternal night with the rest of his race. + +There the form stood, motionless as the hill beneath. Above the plain +rose the hill, above the hill rose the barrow, and above the barrow +rose the figure. Above the figure was nothing that could be mapped +elsewhere than on a celestial globe. + +Such a perfect, delicate, and necessary finish did the figure give +to the dark pile of hills that it seemed to be the only obvious +justification of their outline. Without it, there was the dome +without the lantern; with it the architectural demands of the mass +were satisfied. The scene was strangely homogeneous, in that the +vale, the upland, the barrow, and the figure above it amounted only to +unity. Looking at this or that member of the group was not observing +a complete thing, but a fraction of a thing. + +The form was so much like an organic part of the entire motionless +structure that to see it move would have impressed the mind as a +strange phenomenon. Immobility being the chief characteristic of +that whole which the person formed portion of, the discontinuance of +immobility in any quarter suggested confusion. + +Yet that is what happened. The figure perceptibly gave up its fixity, +shifted a step or two, and turned round. As if alarmed, it descended +on the right side of the barrow, with the glide of a water-drop down a +bud, and then vanished. The movement had been sufficient to show more +clearly the characteristics of the figure, and that it was a woman's. + +The reason of her sudden displacement now appeared. With her dropping +out of sight on the right side, a new-comer, bearing a burden, +protruded into the sky on the left side, ascended the tumulus, and +deposited the burden on the top. A second followed, then a third, a +fourth, a fifth, and ultimately the whole barrow was peopled with +burdened figures. + +The only intelligible meaning in this sky-backed pantomime of +silhouettes was that the woman had no relation to the forms who had +taken her place, was sedulously avoiding these, and had come thither +for another object than theirs. The imagination of the observer clung +by preference to that vanished, solitary figure, as to something more +interesting, more important, more likely to have a history worth +knowing than these new-comers, and unconsciously regarded them as +intruders. But they remained, and established themselves; and the +lonely person who hitherto had been queen of the solitude did not at +present seem likely to return. + + + + +III + +The Custom of the Country + + +Had a looker-on been posted in the immediate vicinity of the barrow, +he would have learned that these persons were boys and men of the +neighbouring hamlets. Each, as he ascended the barrow, had been +heavily laden with furze-faggots, carried upon the shoulder by means +of a long stake sharpened at each end for impaling them easily--two +in front and two behind. They came from a part of the heath a quarter +of a mile to the rear, where furze almost exclusively prevailed as a +product. + +Every individual was so involved in furze by his method of carrying +the faggots that he appeared like a bush on legs till he had thrown +them down. The party had marched in trail, like a travelling flock of +sheep; that is to say, the strongest first, the weak and young behind. + +The loads were all laid together, and a pyramid of furze thirty feet +in circumference now occupied the crown of the tumulus, which was +known as Rainbarrow for many miles round. Some made themselves busy +with matches, and in selecting the driest tufts of furze, others in +loosening the bramble bonds which held the faggots together. Others, +again, while this was in progress, lifted their eyes and swept the +vast expanse of country commanded by their position, now lying nearly +obliterated by shade. In the valleys of the heath nothing save its +own wild face was visible at any time of day; but this spot commanded +a horizon enclosing a tract of far extent, and in many cases lying +beyond the heath country. None of its features could be seen now, but +the whole made itself felt as a vague stretch of remoteness. + +While the men and lads were building the pile, a change took place in +the mass of shade which denoted the distant landscape. Red suns and +tufts of fire one by one began to arise, flecking the whole country +round. They were the bonfires of other parishes and hamlets that were +engaged in the same sort of commemoration. Some were distant, and +stood in a dense atmosphere, so that bundles of pale strawlike beams +radiated around them in the shape of a fan. Some were large and near, +glowing scarlet-red from the shade, like wounds in a black hide. Some +were Maenades, with winy faces and blown hair. These tinctured the +silent bosom of the clouds above them and lit up their ephemeral +caves, which seemed thenceforth to become scalding caldrons. Perhaps +as many as thirty bonfires could be counted within the whole bounds +of the district; and as the hour may be told on a clock-face when +the figures themselves are invisible, so did the men recognize the +locality of each fire by its angle and direction, though nothing of +the scenery could be viewed. + +The first tall flame from Rainbarrow sprang into the sky, attracting +all eyes that had been fixed on the distant conflagrations back to +their own attempt in the same kind. The cheerful blaze streaked the +inner surface of the human circle--now increased by other stragglers, +male and female--with its own gold livery, and even overlaid the +dark turf around with a lively luminousness, which softened off into +obscurity where the barrow rounded downwards out of sight. It showed +the barrow to be the segment of a globe, as perfect as on the day when +it was thrown up, even the little ditch remaining from which the earth +was dug. Not a plough had ever disturbed a grain of that stubborn +soil. In the heath's barrenness to the farmer lay its fertility to +the historian. There had been no obliteration, because there had been +no tending. + +It seemed as if the bonfire-makers were standing in some radiant +upper story of the world, detached from and independent of the dark +stretches below. The heath down there was now a vast abyss, and no +longer a continuation of what they stood on; for their eyes, adapted +to the blaze, could see nothing of the deeps beyond its influence. +Occasionally, it is true, a more vigorous flare than usual from their +faggots sent darting lights like aides-de-camp down the inclines to +some distant bush, pool, or patch of white sand, kindling these to +replies of the same colour, till all was lost in darkness again. Then +the whole black phenomenon beneath represented Limbo as viewed from +the brink by the sublime Florentine in his vision, and the muttered +articulations of the wind in the hollows were as complaints and +petitions from the "souls of mighty worth" suspended therein. + +It was as if these men and boys had suddenly dived into past ages, and +fetched therefrom an hour and deed which had before been familiar with +this spot. The ashes of the original British pyre which blazed from +that summit lay fresh and undisturbed in the barrow beneath their +tread. The flames from funeral piles long ago kindled there had shone +down upon the lowlands as these were shining now. Festival fires to +Thor and Woden had followed on the same ground and duly had their day. +Indeed, it is pretty well known that such blazes as this the heathmen +were now enjoying are rather the lineal descendants from jumbled +Druidical rites and Saxon ceremonies than the invention of popular +feeling about Gunpowder Plot. + +Moreover to light a fire is the instinctive and resistant act of man +when, at the winter ingress, the curfew is sounded throughout Nature. +It indicates a spontaneous, Promethean rebelliousness against that +fiat that this recurrent season shall bring foul times, cold darkness, +misery and death. Black chaos comes, and the fettered gods of the +earth say, Let there be light. + +The brilliant lights and sooty shades which struggled upon the skin +and clothes of the persons standing round caused their lineaments and +general contours to be drawn with Dureresque vigour and dash. Yet the +permanent moral expression of each face it was impossible to discover, +for as the nimble flames towered, nodded, and swooped through the +surrounding air, the blots of shade and flakes of light upon the +countenances of the group changed shape and position endlessly. All +was unstable; quivering as leaves, evanescent as lightning. Shadowy +eye-sockets, deep as those of a death's head, suddenly turned into +pits of lustre: a lantern-jaw was cavernous, then it was shining; +wrinkles were emphasized to ravines, or obliterated entirely by a +changed ray. Nostrils were dark wells; sinews in old necks were gilt +mouldings; things with no particular polish on them were glazed; +bright objects, such as the tip of a furze-hook one of the men +carried, were as glass; eyeballs glowed like little lanterns. Those +whom Nature had depicted as merely quaint became grotesque, the +grotesque became preternatural; for all was in extremity. + +Hence it may be that the face of an old man, who had like others been +called to the heights by the rising flames, was not really the mere +nose and chin that it appeared to be, but an appreciable quantity of +human countenance. He stood complacently sunning himself in the heat. +With a speaker, or stake, he tossed the outlying scraps of fuel into +the conflagration, looking at the midst of the pile, occasionally +lifting his eyes to measure the height of the flame, or to follow the +great sparks which rose with it and sailed away into darkness. The +beaming sight, and the penetrating warmth, seemed to breed in him a +cumulative cheerfulness, which soon amounted to delight. With his +stick in his hand he began to jig a private minuet, a bunch of copper +seals shining and swinging like a pendulum from under his waistcoat: +he also began to sing, in the voice of a bee up a flue-- + + + "The king' call'd down' his no-bles all', + By one', by two', by three'; + Earl Mar'-shal, I'll' go shrive'-the queen', + And thou' shalt wend' with me'. + + "A boon', a boon', quoth Earl' Mar-shal', + And fell' on his bend'-ded knee', + That what'-so-e'er' the queen' shall say', + No harm' there-of' may be'." + + +Want of breath prevented a continuance of the song; and the breakdown +attracted the attention of a firm-standing man of middle age, who +kept each corner of his crescent-shaped mouth rigorously drawn back +into his cheek, as if to do away with any suspicion of mirthfulness +which might erroneously have attached to him. + +"A fair stave, Grandfer Cantle; but I am afeard 'tis too much for the +mouldy weasand of such a old man as you," he said to the wrinkled +reveller. "Dostn't wish th' wast three sixes again, Grandfer, as you +was when you first learnt to sing it?" + +"Hey?" said Grandfer Cantle, stopping in his dance. + +"Dostn't wish wast young again, I say? There's a hole in thy poor +bellows nowadays seemingly." + +"But there's good art in me? If I couldn't make a little wind go a +long ways I should seem no younger than the most aged man, should I, +Timothy?" + +"And how about the new-married folks down there at the Quiet Woman +Inn?" the other inquired, pointing towards a dim light in the +direction of the distant highway, but considerably apart from where +the reddleman was at that moment resting. "What's the rights of the +matter about 'em? You ought to know, being an understanding man." + +"But a little rakish, hey? I own to it. Master Cantle is that, or +he's nothing. Yet 'tis a gay fault, neighbour Fairway, that age will +cure." + +"I heard that they were coming home to-night. By this time they must +have come. What besides?" + +"The next thing is for us to go and wish 'em joy, I suppose?" + +"Well, no." + +"No? Now, I thought we must. _I_ must, or 'twould be very unlike +me--the first in every spree that's going! + + + "Do thou' put on' a fri'-ar's coat', + And I'll' put on' a-no'-ther, + And we' will to' Queen Ele'anor go', + Like Fri'ar and' his bro'ther. + + +"I met Mis'ess Yeobright, the young bride's aunt, last night, and she +told me that her son Clym was coming home a' Christmas. Wonderful +clever, 'a believe--ah, I should like to have all that's under that +young man's hair. Well, then, I spoke to her in my well-known merry +way, and she said, 'O that what's shaped so venerable should talk like +a fool!'--that's what she said to me. I don't care for her, be jowned +if I do, and so I told her. 'Be jowned if I care for 'ee,' I said. I +had her there--hey?" + +"I rather think she had you," said Fairway. + +"No," said Grandfer Cantle, his countenance slightly flagging. +"'Tisn't so bad as that with me?" + +"Seemingly 'tis; however, is it because of the wedding that Clym is +coming home a' Christmas--to make a new arrangement because his mother +is now left in the house alone?" + +"Yes, yes--that's it. But, Timothy, hearken to me," said the Grandfer +earnestly. "Though known as such a joker, I be an understanding man +if you catch me serious, and I am serious now. I can tell 'ee lots +about the married couple. Yes, this morning at six o'clock they went +up the country to do the job, and neither vell nor mark have been seen +of 'em since, though I reckon that this afternoon has brought 'em home +again man and woman--wife, that is. Isn't it spoke like a man, +Timothy, and wasn't Mis'ess Yeobright wrong about me?" + +"Yes, it will do. I didn't know the two had walked together since +last fall, when her aunt forbad the banns. How long has this new +set-to been mangling then? Do you know, Humphrey?" + +"Yes, how long?" said Grandfer Cantle smartly, likewise turning to +Humphrey. "I ask that question." + +"Ever since her aunt altered her mind, and said she might have the +man after all," replied Humphrey, without removing his eyes from the +fire. He was a somewhat solemn young fellow, and carried the hook +and leather gloves of a furze-cutter, his legs, by reason of that +occupation, being sheathed in bulging leggings as stiff as the +Philistine's greaves of brass. "That's why they went away to be +married, I count. You see, after kicking up such a nunny-watch +and forbidding the banns 'twould have made Mis'ess Yeobright seem +foolish-like to have a banging wedding in the same parish all as if +she'd never gainsaid it." + +"Exactly--seem foolish-like; and that's very bad for the poor things +that be so, though I only guess as much, to be sure," said Grandfer +Cantle, still strenuously preserving a sensible bearing and mien. + +"Ah, well, I was at church that day," said Fairway, "which was a very +curious thing to happen." + +"If 'twasn't my name's Simple," said the Grandfer emphatically. "I +ha'n't been there to-year; and now the winter is a-coming on I won't +say I shall." + +"I ha'n't been these three years," said Humphrey; "for I'm so dead +sleepy of a Sunday; and 'tis so terrible far to get there; and when +you do get there 'tis such a mortal poor chance that you'll be chose +for up above, when so many bain't, that I bide at home and don't go at +all." + +"I not only happened to be there," said Fairway, with a fresh +collection of emphasis, "but I was sitting in the same pew as Mis'ess +Yeobright. And though you may not see it as such, it fairly made my +blood run cold to hear her. Yes, it is a curious thing; but it made +my blood run cold, for I was close at her elbow." The speaker looked +round upon the bystanders, now drawing closer to hear him, with his +lips gathered tighter than ever in the rigorousness of his descriptive +moderation. + +"'Tis a serious job to have things happen to 'ee there," said a woman +behind. + +"'Ye are to declare it,' was the parson's words," Fairway continued. +"And then up stood a woman at my side--a-touching of me. 'Well, be +damned if there isn't Mis'ess Yeobright a-standing up,' I said to +myself. Yes, neighbours, though I was in the temple of prayer that's +what I said. 'Tis against my conscience to curse and swear in +company, and I hope any woman here will overlook it. Still what I did +say I did say, and 'twould be a lie if I didn't own it." + +"So 'twould, neighbour Fairway." + +"'Be damned if there isn't Mis'ess Yeobright a-standing up,' I +said," the narrator repeated, giving out the bad word with the same +passionless severity of face as before, which proved how entirely +necessity and not gusto had to do with the iteration. "And the next +thing I heard was, 'I forbid the banns,' from her. 'I'll speak to +you after the service,' said the parson, in quite a homely way--yes, +turning all at once into a common man no holier than you or I. Ah, her +face was pale! Maybe you can call to mind that monument in Weatherbury +church--the cross-legged soldier that have had his arm knocked away by +the school-children? Well, he would about have matched that woman's +face, when she said, 'I forbid the banns.'" + +The audience cleared their throats and tossed a few stalks into the +fire, not because these deeds were urgent, but to give themselves time +to weigh the moral of the story. + +"I'm sure when I heard they'd been forbid I felt as glad as if anybody +had gied me sixpence," said an earnest voice--that of Olly Dowden, a +woman who lived by making heath brooms, or besoms. Her nature was to +be civil to enemies as well as to friends, and grateful to all the +world for letting her remain alive. + +"And now the maid have married him just the same," said Humphrey. + +"After that Mis'ess Yeobright came round and was quite agreeable," +Fairway resumed, with an unheeding air, to show that his words were no +appendage to Humphrey's, but the result of independent reflection. + +"Supposing they were ashamed, I don't see why they shouldn't have +done it here-right," said a wide-spread woman whose stays creaked +like shoes whenever she stooped or turned. "'Tis well to call the +neighbours together and to hae a good racket once now and then; and it +may as well be when there's a wedding as at tide-times. I don't care +for close ways." + +"Ah, now, you'd hardly believe it, but I don't care for gay weddings," +said Timothy Fairway, his eyes again travelling round. "I hardly +blame Thomasin Yeobright and neighbour Wildeve for doing it quiet, if +I must own it. A wedding at home means five and six-handed reels by +the hour; and they do a man's legs no good when he's over forty." + +"True. Once at the woman's house you can hardly say nay to being one +in a jig, knowing all the time that you be expected to make yourself +worth your victuals." + +"You be bound to dance at Christmas because 'tis the time o' year; you +must dance at weddings because 'tis the time o' life. At christenings +folk will even smuggle in a reel or two, if 'tis no further on than +the first or second chiel. And this is not naming the songs you've +got to sing... For my part I like a good hearty funeral as well as +anything. You've as splendid victuals and drink as at other parties, +and even better. And it don't wear your legs to stumps in talking +over a poor fellow's ways as it do to stand up in hornpipes." + +"Nine folks out of ten would own 'twas going too far to dance then, I +suppose?" suggested Grandfer Cantle. + +"'Tis the only sort of party a staid man can feel safe at after the +mug have been round a few times." + +"Well, I can't understand a quiet lady-like little body like Tamsin +Yeobright caring to be married in such a mean way," said Susan +Nunsuch, the wide woman, who preferred the original subject. "'Tis +worse than the poorest do. And I shouldn't have cared about the man, +though some may say he's good-looking." + +"To give him his due he's a clever, learned fellow in his way--a'most +as clever as Clym Yeobright used to be. He was brought up to better +things than keeping the Quiet Woman. An engineer--that's what the man +was, as we know; but he threw away his chance, and so 'a took a public +house to live. His learning was no use to him at all." + +"Very often the case," said Olly, the besom-maker. "And yet how people +do strive after it and get it! The class of folk that couldn't use +to make a round O to save their bones from the pit can write their +names now without a sputter of the pen, oftentimes without a single +blot: what do I say?--why, almost without a desk to lean their +stomachs and elbows upon." + +"True: 'tis amazing what a polish the world have been brought to," +said Humphrey. + +"Why, afore I went a soldier in the Bang-up Locals (as we was called), +in the year four," chimed in Grandfer Cantle brightly, "I didn't know +no more what the world was like than the commonest man among ye. And +now, jown it all, I won't say what I bain't fit for, hey?" + +"Couldst sign the book, no doubt," said Fairway, "if wast young enough +to join hands with a woman again, like Wildeve and Mis'ess Tamsin, +which is more than Humph there could do, for he follows his father in +learning. Ah, Humph, well I can mind when I was married how I zid thy +father's mark staring me in the face as I went to put down my name. +He and your mother were the couple married just afore we were and +there stood they father's cross with arms stretched out like a great +banging scarecrow. What a terrible black cross that was--thy father's +very likeness in en! To save my soul I couldn't help laughing when I +zid en, though all the time I was as hot as dog-days, what with the +marrying, and what with the woman a-hanging to me, and what with Jack +Changley and a lot more chaps grinning at me through church window. +But the next moment a strawmote would have knocked me down, for I +called to mind that if thy father and mother had had high words once, +they'd been at it twenty times since they'd been man and wife, and I +zid myself as the next poor stunpoll to get into the same +mess... Ah--well, what a day 'twas!" + +"Wildeve is older than Tamsin Yeobright by a goodfew summers. A +pretty maid too she is. A young woman with a home must be a fool to +tear her smock for a man like that." + +The speaker, a peat or turf-cutter, who had newly joined the group, +carried across his shoulder the singular heart-shaped spade of large +dimensions used in that species of labour; and its well-whetted edge +gleamed like a silver bow in the beams of the fire. + +"A hundred maidens would have had him if he'd asked 'em," said the +wide woman. + +"Didst ever know a man, neighbour, that no woman at all would marry?" +inquired Humphrey. + +"I never did," said the turf-cutter. + +"Nor I," said another. + +"Nor I," said Grandfer Cantle. + +"Well, now, I did once," said Timothy Fairway, adding more firmness +to one of his legs. "I did know of such a man. But only once, mind." +He gave his throat a thorough rake round, as if it were the duty of +every person not to be mistaken through thickness of voice. "Yes, I +knew of such a man," he said. + +"And what ghastly gallicrow might the poor fellow have been like, +Master Fairway?" asked the turf-cutter. + +"Well, 'a was neither a deaf man, nor a dumb man, nor a blind man. +What 'a was I don't say." + +"Is he known in these parts?" said Olly Dowden. + +"Hardly," said Timothy; "but I name no name... Come, keep the fire up +there, youngsters." + +"Whatever is Christian Cantle's teeth a-chattering for?" said a boy +from amid the smoke and shades on the other side of the blaze. "Be ye +a-cold, Christian?" + +A thin jibbering voice was heard to reply, "No, not at all." + +"Come forward, Christian, and show yourself. I didn't know you were +here," said Fairway, with a humane look across towards that quarter. + +Thus requested, a faltering man, with reedy hair, no shoulders, and a +great quantity of wrist and ankle beyond his clothes, advanced a step +or two by his own will, and was pushed by the will of others half a +dozen steps more. He was Grandfer Cantle's youngest son. + +"What be ye quaking for, Christian?" said the turf-cutter kindly. + +"I'm the man." + +"What man?" + +"The man no woman will marry." + +"The deuce you be!" said Timothy Fairway, enlarging his gaze to cover +Christian's whole surface and a great deal more; Grandfer Cantle +meanwhile staring as a hen stares at the duck she has hatched. + +"Yes, I be he; and it makes me afeard," said Christian. "D'ye think +'twill hurt me? I shall always say I don't care, and swear to it, +though I do care all the while." + +"Well, be damned if this isn't the queerest start ever I know'd," +said Mr. Fairway. "I didn't mean you at all. There's another in the +country, then! Why did ye reveal yer misfortune, Christian?" + +"'Twas to be if 'twas, I suppose. I can't help it, can I?" He turned +upon them his painfully circular eyes, surrounded by concentric lines +like targets. + +"No, that's true. But 'tis a melancholy thing, and my blood ran cold +when you spoke, for I felt there were two poor fellows where I had +thought only one. 'Tis a sad thing for ye, Christian. How'st know +the women won't hae thee?" + +"I've asked 'em." + +"Sure I should never have thought you had the face. Well, and what +did the last one say to ye? Nothing that can't be got over, perhaps, +after all?" + +"'Get out of my sight, you slack-twisted, slim-looking maphrotight +fool,' was the woman's words to me." + +"Not encouraging, I own," said Fairway. "'Get out of my sight, you +slack-twisted, slim-looking maphrotight fool,' is rather a hard way of +saying No. But even that might be overcome by time and patience, so as +to let a few grey hairs show themselves in the hussy's head. How old +be you, Christian?" + +"Thirty-one last tatie-digging, Mister Fairway." + +"Not a boy--not a boy. Still there's hope yet." + +"That's my age by baptism, because that's put down in the great book +of the Judgment that they keep in church vestry; but mother told me I +was born some time afore I was christened." + +"Ah!" + +"But she couldn't tell when, to save her life, except that there was +no moon." + +"No moon: that's bad. Hey, neighbours, that's bad for him!" + +"Yes, 'tis bad," said Grandfer Cantle, shaking his head. + +"Mother know'd 'twas no moon, for she asked another woman that had an +almanac, as she did whenever a boy was born to her, because of the +saying, 'No moon, no man,' which made her afeard every man-child she +had. Do ye really think it serious, Mister Fairway, that there was no +moon?" + +"Yes; 'No moon, no man.' 'Tis one of the truest sayings ever spit out. +The boy never comes to anything that's born at new moon. A bad job +for thee, Christian, that you should have showed your nose then of all +days in the month." + +"I suppose the moon was terrible full when you were born?" said +Christian, with a look of hopeless admiration at Fairway. + +"Well, 'a was not new," Mr. Fairway replied, with a disinterested +gaze. + +"I'd sooner go without drink at Lammas-tide than be a man of no moon," +continued Christian, in the same shattered recitative. "'Tis said I +be only the rames of a man, and no good for my race at all; and I +suppose that's the cause o't." + +"Ay," said Grandfer Cantle, somewhat subdued in spirit; "and yet his +mother cried for scores of hours when 'a was a boy, for fear he should +outgrow hisself and go for a soldier." + +"Well, there's many just as bad as he." said Fairway. "Wethers must +live their time as well as other sheep, poor soul." + +"So perhaps I shall rub on? Ought I to be afeared o' nights, Master +Fairway?" + +"You'll have to lie alone all your life; and 'tis not to married +couples but to single sleepers that a ghost shows himself when 'a do +come. One has been seen lately, too. A very strange one." + +"No--don't talk about it if 'tis agreeable of ye not to! 'Twill make +my skin crawl when I think of it in bed alone. But you will--ah, you +will, I know, Timothy; and I shall dream all night o't! A very strange +one? What sort of a spirit did ye mean when ye said, a very strange +one, Timothy?--no, no--don't tell me." + +"I don't half believe in spirits myself. But I think it ghostly +enough--what I was told. 'Twas a little boy that zid it." + +"What was it like?--no, don't--" + +"A red one. Yes, most ghosts be white; but this is as if it had been +dipped in blood." + +Christian drew a deep breath without letting it expand his body, and +Humphrey said, "Where has it been seen?" + +"Not exactly here; but in this same heth. But 'tisn't a thing to +talk about. What do ye say," continued Fairway in brisker tones, and +turning upon them as if the idea had not been Grandfer Cantle's--"what +do you say to giving the new man and wife a bit of a song to-night +afore we go to bed--being their wedding-day? When folks are just +married 'tis as well to look glad o't, since looking sorry won't +unjoin 'em. I am no drinker, as we know, but when the womenfolk and +youngsters have gone home we can drop down across to the Quiet Woman, +and strike up a ballet in front of the married folks' door. 'Twill +please the young wife, and that's what I should like to do, for many's +the skinful I've had at her hands when she lived with her aunt at +Blooms-End." + +"Hey? And so we will!" said Grandfer Cantle, turning so briskly that +his copper seals swung extravagantly. "I'm as dry as a kex with biding +up here in the wind, and I haven't seen the colour of drink since +nammet-time today. 'Tis said that the last brew at the Woman is very +pretty drinking. And, neighbours, if we should be a little late in +the finishing, why, tomorrow's Sunday, and we can sleep it off?" + +"Grandfer Cantle! you take things very careless for an old man," said +the wide woman. + +"I take things careless; I do--too careless to please the women! Klk! +I'll sing the 'Jovial Crew,' or any other song, when a weak old man +would cry his eyes out. Jown it; I am up for anything. + + + "The king' look'd o'ver his left' shoul-der', + And a grim' look look'-ed hee', + Earl Mar'-shal, he said', but for' my oath' + Or hang'-ed thou' shouldst bee'." + + +"Well, that's what we'll do," said Fairway. "We'll give 'em a song, +an' it please the Lord. What's the good of Thomasin's cousin Clym +a-coming home after the deed's done? He should have come afore, if so +be he wanted to stop it, and marry her himself." + +"Perhaps he's coming to bide with his mother a little time, as she +must feel lonely now the maid's gone." + +"Now, 'tis very odd, but I never feel lonely--no, not at all," said +Grandfer Cantle. "I am as brave in the night-time as a' admiral!" + +The bonfire was by this time beginning to sink low, for the fuel had +not been of that substantial sort which can support a blaze long. +Most of the other fires within the wide horizon were also dwindling +weak. Attentive observation of their brightness, colour, and length +of existence would have revealed the quality of the material burnt, +and through that, to some extent the natural produce of the district +in which each bonfire was situate. The clear, kingly effulgence that +had characterized the majority expressed a heath and furze country +like their own, which in one direction extended an unlimited number of +miles; the rapid flares and extinctions at other points of the compass +showed the lightest of fuel--straw, beanstalks, and the usual waste +from arable land. The most enduring of all--steady unaltering eyes +like Planets--signified wood, such as hazel-branches, thorn-faggots, +and stout billets. Fires of the last-mentioned materials were rare, +and though comparatively small in magnitude beside the transient +blazes, now began to get the best of them by mere long continuance. +The great ones had perished, but these remained. They occupied the +remotest visible positions--sky-backed summits rising out of rich +coppice and plantation districts to the north, where the soil was +different, and heath foreign and strange. + +Save one; and this was the nearest of any, the moon of the whole +shining throng. It lay in a direction precisely opposite to that of +the little window in the vale below. Its nearness was such that, +notwithstanding its actual smallness, its glow infinitely transcended +theirs. + +This quiet eye had attracted attention from time to time; and when +their own fire had become sunken and dim it attracted more; some even +of the wood fires more recently lighted had reached their decline, but +no change was perceptible here. + +"To be sure, how near that fire is!" said Fairway. "Seemingly. I can +see a fellow of some sort walking round it. Little and good must be +said of that fire, surely." + +"I can throw a stone there," said the boy. + +"And so can I!" said Grandfer Cantle. + +"No, no, you can't, my sonnies. That fire is not much less than a +mile off, for all that 'a seems so near." + +"'Tis in the heath, but not furze," said the turf-cutter. + +"'Tis cleft-wood, that's what 'tis," said Timothy Fairway. "Nothing +would burn like that except clean timber. And 'tis on the knap afore +the old captain's house at Mistover. Such a queer mortal as that man +is! To have a little fire inside your own bank and ditch, that nobody +else may enjoy it or come anigh it! And what a zany an old chap must +be, to light a bonfire when there's no youngsters to please." + +"Cap'n Vye has been for a long walk to-day, and is quite tired out," +said Grandfer Cantle, "so 'tisn't likely to be he." + +"And he would hardly afford good fuel like that," said the wide woman. + +"Then it must be his grand-daughter," said Fairway. "Not that a body +of her age can want a fire much." + +"She is very strange in her ways, living up there by herself, and such +things please her," said Susan. + +"She's a well-favoured maid enough," said Humphrey the furze-cutter; +"especially when she's got one of her dandy gowns on." + +"That's true," said Fairway. "Well, let her bonfire burn an't will. +Ours is well-nigh out by the look o't." + +"How dark 'tis now the fire's gone down!" said Christian Cantle, +looking behind him with his hare eyes. "Don't ye think we'd better +get home-along, neighbours? The heth isn't haunted, I know; but we'd +better get home... Ah, what was that?" + +"Only the wind," said the turf-cutter. + +"I don't think Fifth-of-Novembers ought to be kept up by night except +in towns. It should be by day in outstep, ill-accounted places like +this!" + +"Nonsense, Christian. Lift up your spirits like a man! Susy, dear, +you and I will have a jig--hey, my honey?--before 'tis quite too dark +to see how well-favoured you be still, though so many summers have +passed since your husband, a son of a witch, snapped you up from me." + +This was addressed to Susan Nunsuch; and the next circumstance of +which the beholders were conscious was a vision of the matron's broad +form whisking off towards the space whereon the fire had been kindled. +She was lifted bodily by Mr. Fairway's arm, which had been flung round +her waist before she had become aware of his intention. The site of +the fire was now merely a circle of ashes flecked with red embers +and sparks, the furze having burnt completely away. Once within the +circle he whirled her round and round in a dance. She was a woman +noisily constructed; in addition to her enclosing framework of +whalebone and lath, she wore pattens summer and winter, in wet weather +and in dry, to preserve her boots from wear; and when Fairway began to +jump about with her, the clicking of the pattens, the creaking of the +stays, and her screams of surprise, formed a very audible concert. + +"I'll crack thy numskull for thee, you mandy chap!" said Mrs. Nunsuch, +as she helplessly danced round with him, her feet playing like +drumsticks among the sparks. "My ankles were all in a fever before, +from walking through that prickly furze, and now you must make 'em +worse with these vlankers!" + +The vagary of Timothy Fairway was infectious. The turf-cutter seized +old Olly Dowden, and, somewhat more gently, poussetted with her +likewise. The young men were not slow to imitate the example of their +elders, and seized the maids; Grandfer Cantle and his stick jigged in +the form of a three-legged object among the rest; and in half a minute +all that could be seen on Rainbarrow was a whirling of dark shapes +amid a boiling confusion of sparks, which leapt around the dancers +as high as their waists. The chief noises were women's shrill +cries, men's laughter, Susan's stays and pattens, Olly Dowden's +"heu-heu-heu!" and the strumming of the wind upon the furze-bushes, +which formed a kind of tune to the demoniac measure they trod. +Christian alone stood aloof, uneasily rocking himself as he murmured, +"They ought not to do it--how the vlankers do fly! 'tis tempting the +Wicked one, 'tis." + +"What was that?" said one of the lads, stopping. + +"Ah--where?" said Christian, hastily closing up to the rest. + +The dancers all lessened their speed. + +"'Twas behind you, Christian, that I heard it--down there." + +"Yes--'tis behind me!" Christian said. "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and +John, bless the bed that I lie on; four angels guard--" + +"Hold your tongue. What is it?" said Fairway. + +"Hoi-i-i-i!" cried a voice from the darkness. + +"Halloo-o-o-o!" said Fairway. + +"Is there any cart track up across here to Mis'ess Yeobright's, +of Blooms-End?" came to them in the same voice, as a long, slim +indistinct figure approached the barrow. + +"Ought we not to run home as hard as we can, neighbours, as 'tis +getting late?" said Christian. "Not run away from one another, you +know; run close together, I mean." + +"Scrape up a few stray locks of furze, and make a blaze, so that we +can see who the man is," said Fairway. + +When the flame arose it revealed a young man in tight raiment, and red +from top to toe. "Is there a track across here to Mis'ess Yeobright's +house?" he repeated. + +"Ay--keep along the path down there." + +"I mean a way two horses and a van can travel over?" + +"Well, yes; you can get up the vale below here with time. The track +is rough, but if you've got a light your horses may pick along wi' +care. Have ye brought your cart far up, neighbour reddleman?" + +"I've left it in the bottom, about half a mile back. I stepped on in +front to make sure of the way, as 'tis night-time, and I han't been +here for so long." + +"Oh, well, you can get up," said Fairway. "What a turn it did give me +when I saw him!" he added to the whole group, the reddleman included. +"Lord's sake, I thought, whatever fiery mommet is this come to trouble +us? No slight to your looks, reddleman, for ye bain't bad-looking in +the groundwork, though the finish is queer. My meaning is just to +say how curious I felt. I half thought it 'twas the devil or the red +ghost the boy told of." + +"It gied me a turn likewise," said Susan Nunsuch, "for I had a dream +last night of a death's head." + +"Don't ye talk o't no more," said Christian. "If he had handkerchief +over his head he'd look for all the world like the Devil in the +picture of the Temptation." + +"Well, thank you for telling me," said the young reddleman, smiling +faintly. "And good night t'ye all." + +He withdrew from their sight down the barrow. + +"I fancy I've seen that young man's face before," said Humphrey. "But +where, or how, or what his name is, I don't know." + +The reddleman had not been gone more than a few minutes when another +person approached the partially revived bonfire. It proved to be a +well-known and respected widow of the neighbourhood, of a standing +which can only be expressed by the word genteel. Her face, +encompassed by the blackness of the receding heath, showed whitely, +and without half-lights, like a cameo. + +She was a woman of middle-age, with well-formed features of the type +usually found where perspicacity is the chief quality enthroned +within. At moments she seemed to be regarding issues from a Nebo +denied to others around. She had something of an estranged mien; the +solitude exhaled from the heath was concentrated in this face that +had risen from it. The air with which she looked at the heathmen +betokened a certain unconcern at their presence, or at what might be +their opinions of her for walking in that lonely spot at such an hour, +this indirectly implying that in some respect or other they were not +up to her level. The explanation lay in the fact that though her +husband had been a small farmer she herself was a curate's daughter, +who had once dreamt of doing better things. + +Persons with any weight of character carry, like planets, their +atmospheres along with them in their orbits; and the matron who +entered now upon the scene could, and usually did, bring her own +tone into a company. Her normal manner among the heathfolk had +that reticence which results from the consciousness of superior +communicative power. But the effect of coming into society and light +after lonely wandering in darkness is a sociability in the comer above +its usual pitch, expressed in the features even more than in words. + +"Why, 'tis Mis'ess Yeobright," said Fairway. "Mis'ess Yeobright, not +ten minutes ago a man was here asking for you--a reddleman." + +"What did he want?" said she. + +"He didn't tell us." + +"Something to sell, I suppose; what it can be I am at a loss to +understand." + +"I am glad to hear that your son Mr. Clym is coming home at Christmas, +ma'am," said Sam, the turf-cutter. "What a dog he used to be for +bonfires!" + +"Yes. I believe he is coming," she said. + +"He must be a fine fellow by this time," said Fairway. + +"He is a man now," she replied quietly. + +"'Tis very lonesome for 'ee in the heth tonight, mis'ess," said +Christian, coming from the seclusion he had hitherto maintained. +"Mind you don't get lost. Egdon Heth is a bad place to get lost in, +and the winds do huffle queerer tonight than ever I heard 'em afore. +Them that know Egdon best have been pixy-led here at times." + +"Is that you, Christian?" said Mrs. Yeobright. "What made you hide +away from me?" + +"'Twas that I didn't know you in this light, mis'ess; and being a +man of the mournfullest make, I was scared a little, that's all. +Oftentimes if you could see how terrible down I get in my mind, +'twould make 'ee quite nervous for fear I should die by my hand." + +"You don't take after your father," said Mrs. Yeobright, looking +towards the fire, where Grandfer Cantle, with some want of +originality, was dancing by himself among the sparks, as the others +had done before. + +"Now, Grandfer," said Timothy Fairway, "we are ashamed of ye. A +reverent old patriarch man as you be--seventy if a day--to go +hornpiping like that by yourself!" + +"A harrowing old man, Mis'ess Yeobright," said Christian despondingly. +"I wouldn't live with him a week, so playward as he is, if I could get +away." + +"'Twould be more seemly in ye to stand still and welcome Mis'ess +Yeobright, and you the venerablest here, Grandfer Cantle," said the +besom-woman. + +"Faith, and so it would," said the reveller checking himself +repentantly. "I've such a bad memory, Mis'ess Yeobright, that I +forget how I'm looked up to by the rest of 'em. My spirits must be +wonderful good, you'll say? But not always. 'Tis a weight upon a man +to be looked up to as commander, and I often feel it." + +"I am sorry to stop the talk," said Mrs. Yeobright. "But I must be +leaving you now. I was passing down the Anglebury Road, towards my +niece's new home, who is returning tonight with her husband; and +seeing the bonfire and hearing Olly's voice among the rest I came up +here to learn what was going on. I should like her to walk with me, as +her way is mine." + +"Ay, sure, ma'am, I'm just thinking of moving," said Olly. + +"Why, you'll be safe to meet the reddleman that I told ye of," said +Fairway. "He's only gone back to get his van. We heard that your +niece and her husband were coming straight home as soon as they were +married, and we are going down there shortly, to give 'em a song o' +welcome." + +"Thank you indeed," said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"But we shall take a shorter cut through the furze than you can go +with long clothes; so we won't trouble you to wait." + +"Very well--are you ready, Olly?" + +"Yes, ma'am. And there's a light shining from your niece's window, +see. It will help to keep us in the path." + +She indicated the faint light at the bottom of the valley which +Fairway had pointed out; and the two women descended the tumulus. + + + + +IV + +The Halt on the Turnpike Road + + +Down, downward they went, and yet further down--their descent at each +step seeming to outmeasure their advance. Their skirts were scratched +noisily by the furze, their shoulders brushed by the ferns, which, +though dead and dry, stood erect as when alive, no sufficient winter +weather having as yet arrived to beat them down. Their Tartarean +situation might by some have been called an imprudent one for two +unattended women. But these shaggy recesses were at all seasons a +familiar surrounding to Olly and Mrs. Yeobright; and the addition of +darkness lends no frightfulness to the face of a friend. + +"And so Tamsin has married him at last," said Olly, when the incline +had become so much less steep that their footsteps no longer required +undivided attention. + +Mrs. Yeobright answered slowly, "Yes: at last." + +"How you will miss her--living with 'ee as a daughter, as she always +have." + +"I do miss her." + +Olly, though without the tact to perceive when remarks were untimely, +was saved by her very simplicity from rendering them offensive. +Questions that would have been resented in others she could ask with +impunity. This accounted for Mrs. Yeobright's acquiescence in the +revival of an evidently sore subject. + +"I was quite strook to hear you'd agreed to it, ma'am, that I was," +continued the besom-maker. + +"You were not more struck by it than I should have been last year this +time, Olly. There are a good many sides to that wedding. I could not +tell you all of them, even if I tried." + +"I felt myself that he was hardly solid-going enough to mate with your +family. Keeping an inn--what is it? But 'a's clever, that's true, and +they say he was an engineering gentleman once, but has come down by +being too outwardly given." + +"I saw that, upon the whole, it would be better she should marry where +she wished." + +"Poor little thing, her feelings got the better of her, no doubt. +'Tis nature. Well, they may call him what they will--he've several +acres of heth-ground broke up here, besides the public house, and the +heth-croppers, and his manners be quite like a gentleman's. And what's +done cannot be undone." + +"It cannot," said Mrs. Yeobright. "See, here's the waggon-track at +last. Now we shall get along better." + +The wedding subject was no further dwelt upon; and soon a faint +diverging path was reached, where they parted company, Olly first +begging her companion to remind Mr. Wildeve that he had not sent +her sick husband the bottle of wine promised on the occasion of his +marriage. The besom-maker turned to the left towards her own house, +behind a spur of the hill, and Mrs. Yeobright followed the straight +track, which further on joined the highway by the Quiet Woman Inn, +whither she supposed her niece to have returned with Wildeve from +their wedding at Anglebury that day. + +She first reached Wildeve's Patch, as it was called, a plot of land +redeemed from the heath, and after long and laborious years brought +into cultivation. The man who had discovered that it could be tilled +died of the labour; the man who succeeded him in possession ruined +himself in fertilizing it. Wildeve came like Amerigo Vespucci, and +received the honours due to those who had gone before. + +When Mrs. Yeobright had drawn near to the inn, and was about to enter, +she saw a horse and vehicle some two hundred yards beyond it, coming +towards her, a man walking alongside with a lantern in his hand. It +was soon evident that this was the reddleman who had inquired for her. +Instead of entering the inn at once, she walked by it and towards the +van. + +The conveyance came close, and the man was about to pass her with +little notice, when she turned to him and said, "I think you have been +inquiring for me? I am Mrs. Yeobright of Blooms-End." + +The reddleman started, and held up his finger. He stopped the horses, +and beckoned to her to withdraw with him a few yards aside, which she +did, wondering. + +"You don't know me, ma'am, I suppose?" he said. + +"I do not," said she. "Why, yes, I do! You are young Venn--your +father was a dairyman somewhere here?" + +"Yes; and I knew your niece, Miss Tamsin, a little. I have something +bad to tell you." + +"About her--no! She has just come home, I believe, with her husband. +They arranged to return this afternoon--to the inn beyond here." + +"She's not there." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because she's here. She's in my van," he added slowly. + +"What new trouble has come?" murmured Mrs. Yeobright, putting her hand +over her eyes. + +"I can't explain much, ma'am. All I know is that, as I was going +along the road this morning, about a mile out of Anglebury, I heard +something trotting after me like a doe, and looking round there she +was, white as death itself. 'Oh, Diggory Venn!' she said, 'I thought +'twas you: will you help me? I am in trouble.'" + +"How did she know your Christian name?" said Mrs. Yeobright +doubtingly. + +"I had met her as a lad before I went away in this trade. She asked +then if she might ride, and then down she fell in a faint. I picked +her up and put her in, and there she has been ever since. She has +cried a good deal, but she has hardly spoke; all she has told me being +that she was to have been married this morning. I tried to get her to +eat something, but she couldn't; and at last she fell asleep." + +"Let me see her at once," said Mrs. Yeobright, hastening towards the +van. + +The reddleman followed with the lantern, and, stepping up first, +assisted Mrs. Yeobright to mount beside him. On the door being +opened she perceived at the end of the van an extemporized couch, +around which was hung apparently all the drapery that the reddleman +possessed, to keep the occupant of the little couch from contact with +the red materials of his trade. A young girl lay thereon, covered +with a cloak. She was asleep, and the light of the lantern fell upon +her features. + +A fair, sweet, and honest country face was revealed, reposing in a +nest of wavy chestnut hair. It was between pretty and beautiful. +Though her eyes were closed, one could easily imagine the light +necessarily shining in them as the culmination of the luminous +workmanship around. The groundwork of the face was hopefulness; but +over it now lay like a foreign substance a film of anxiety and grief. +The grief had been there so shortly as to have abstracted nothing +of the bloom, and had as yet but given a dignity to what it might +eventually undermine. The scarlet of her lips had not had time to +abate, and just now it appeared still more intense by the absence of +the neighbouring and more transient colour of her cheek. The lips +frequently parted, with a murmur of words. She seemed to belong +rightly to a madrigal--to require viewing through rhyme and harmony. + +One thing at least was obvious: she was not made to be looked at thus. +The reddleman had appeared conscious of as much, and, while Mrs. +Yeobright looked in upon her, he cast his eyes aside with a delicacy +which well became him. The sleeper apparently thought so too, for the +next moment she opened her own. + +The lips then parted with something of anticipation, something more +of doubt; and her several thoughts and fractions of thoughts, as +signalled by the changes on her face, were exhibited by the light to +the utmost nicety. An ingenuous, transparent life was disclosed, as +if the flow of her existence could be seen passing within her. She +understood the scene in a moment. + +"O yes, it is I, aunt," she cried. "I know how frightened you are, +and how you cannot believe it; but all the same, it is I who have come +home like this!" + +"Tamsin, Tamsin!" said Mrs. Yeobright, stooping over the young woman +and kissing her. "O my dear girl!" + +Thomasin was now on the verge of a sob, but by an unexpected +self-command she uttered no sound. With a gentle panting breath she +sat upright. + +"I did not expect to see you in this state, any more than you me," she +went on quickly. "Where am I, aunt?" + +"Nearly home, my dear. In Egdon Bottom. What dreadful thing is it?" + +"I'll tell you in a moment. So near, are we? Then I will get out and +walk. I want to go home by the path." + +"But this kind man who has done so much will, I am sure, take you +right on to my house?" said the aunt, turning to the reddleman, who +had withdrawn from the front of the van on the awakening of the girl, +and stood in the road. + +"Why should you think it necessary to ask me? I will, of course," +said he. + +"He is indeed kind," murmured Thomasin. "I was once acquainted with +him, aunt, and when I saw him today I thought I should prefer his van +to any conveyance of a stranger. But I'll walk now. Reddleman, stop +the horses, please." + +The man regarded her with tender reluctance, but stopped them. + +Aunt and niece then descended from the van, Mrs. Yeobright saying to +its owner, "I quite recognize you now. What made you change from the +nice business your father left you?" + +"Well, I did," he said, and looked at Thomasin, who blushed a little. +"Then you'll not be wanting me any more to-night, ma'am?" + +Mrs. Yeobright glanced around at the dark sky, at the hills, at the +perishing bonfires, and at the lighted window of the inn they had +neared. "I think not," she said, "since Thomasin wishes to walk. We +can soon run up the path and reach home: we know it well." + +And after a few further words they parted, the reddleman moving +onwards with his van, and the two women remaining standing in the +road. As soon as the vehicle and its driver had withdrawn so far as +to be beyond all possible reach of her voice, Mrs. Yeobright turned +to her niece. + +"Now, Thomasin," she said sternly, "what's the meaning of this +disgraceful performance?" + + + + +V + +Perplexity among Honest People + + +Thomasin looked as if quite overcome by her aunt's change of manner. +"It means just what it seems to mean: I am--not married," she replied +faintly. "Excuse me--for humiliating you, aunt, by this mishap: I am +sorry for it. But I cannot help it." + +"Me? Think of yourself first." + +"It was nobody's fault. When we got there the parson wouldn't marry +us because of some trifling irregularity in the license." + +"What irregularity?" + +"I don't know. Mr. Wildeve can explain. I did not think when I went +away this morning that I should come back like this." It being dark, +Thomasin allowed her emotion to escape her by the silent way of tears, +which could roll down her cheek unseen. + +"I could almost say that it serves you right--if I did not feel that +you don't deserve it," continued Mrs. Yeobright, who, possessing two +distinct moods in close contiguity, a gentle mood and an angry, flew +from one to the other without the least warning. "Remember, Thomasin, +this business was none of my seeking; from the very first, when you +began to feel foolish about that man, I warned you he would not make +you happy. I felt it so strongly that I did what I would never have +believed myself capable of doing--stood up in the church, and made +myself the public talk for weeks. But having once consented, I don't +submit to these fancies without good reason. Marry him you must after +this." + +"Do you think I wish to do otherwise for one moment?" said Thomasin, +with a heavy sigh. "I know how wrong it was of me to love him, but +don't pain me by talking like that, aunt! You would not have had me +stay there with him, would you?--and your house is the only home I +have to return to. He says we can be married in a day or two." + +"I wish he had never seen you." + +"Very well; then I will be the miserablest woman in the world, and not +let him see me again. No, I won't have him!" + +"It is too late to speak so. Come with me. I am going to the inn to +see if he has returned. Of course I shall get to the bottom of this +story at once. Mr. Wildeve must not suppose he can play tricks upon +me, or any belonging to me." + +"It was not that. The license was wrong, and he couldn't get another +the same day. He will tell you in a moment how it was, if he comes." + +"Why didn't he bring you back?" + +"That was me!" again sobbed Thomasin. "When I found we could not be +married I didn't like to come back with him, and I was very ill. Then +I saw Diggory Venn, and was glad to get him to take me home. I cannot +explain it any better, and you must be angry with me if you will." + +"I shall see about that," said Mrs. Yeobright; and they turned towards +the inn, known in the neighbourhood as the Quiet Woman, the sign of +which represented the figure of a matron carrying her head under her +arm, beneath which gruesome design was written the couplet so well +known to frequenters of the inn:-- + + + SINCE THE WOMAN'S QUIET + LET NO MAN BREED A RIOT. + + +The front of the house was towards the heath and Rainbarrow, whose +dark shape seemed to threaten it from the sky. Upon the door was +a neglected brass plate, bearing the unexpected inscription, "Mr. +Wildeve, Engineer"--a useless yet cherished relic from the time when +he had been started in that profession in an office at Budmouth by +those who had hoped much from him, and had been disappointed. The +garden was at the back, and behind this ran a still deep stream, +forming the margin of the heath in that direction, meadow-land +appearing beyond the stream. + +But the thick obscurity permitted only skylines to be visible of +any scene at present. The water at the back of the house could be +heard, idly spinning whirpools in its creep between the rows of dry +feather-headed reeds which formed a stockade along each bank. Their +presence was denoted by sounds as of a congregation praying humbly, +produced by their rubbing against each other in the slow wind. + +The window, whence the candlelight had shone up the vale to the eyes +of the bonfire group, was uncurtained, but the sill lay too high for +a pedestrian on the outside to look over it into the room. A vast +shadow, in which could be dimly traced portions of a masculine +contour, blotted half the ceiling. + +"He seems to be at home," said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Must I come in, too, aunt?" asked Thomasin faintly. "I suppose not; +it would be wrong." + +"You must come, certainly--to confront him, so that he may make no +false representations to me. We shall not be five minutes in the +house, and then we'll walk home." + +Entering the open passage she tapped at the door of the private +parlour, unfastened it, and looked in. + +The back and shoulders of a man came between Mrs. Yeobright's eyes and +the fire. Wildeve, whose form it was, immediately turned, arose, and +advanced to meet his visitors. + +He was quite a young man, and of the two properties, form and motion, +the latter first attracted the eye in him. The grace of his movement +was singular: it was the pantomimic expression of a lady-killing +career. Next came into notice the more material qualities, among +which was a profuse crop of hair impending over the top of his face, +lending to his forehead the high-cornered outline of an early Gothic +shield; and a neck which was smooth and round as a cylinder. The lower +half of his figure was of light build. Altogether he was one in whom +no man would have seen anything to admire, and in whom no woman would +have seen anything to dislike. + +He discerned the young girl's form in the passage, and said, +"Thomasin, then, has reached home. How could you leave me in that +way, darling?" And turning to Mrs. Yeobright: "It was useless to argue +with her. She would go, and go alone." + +"But what's the meaning of it all?" demanded Mrs. Yeobright haughtily. + +"Take a seat," said Wildeve, placing chairs for the two women. "Well, +it was a very stupid mistake, but such mistakes will happen. The +license was useless at Anglebury. It was made out for Budmouth, but +as I didn't read it I wasn't aware of that." + +"But you had been staying at Anglebury?" + +"No. I had been at Budmouth--till two days ago--and that was where I +had intended to take her; but when I came to fetch her we decided upon +Anglebury, forgetting that a new license would be necessary. There was +not time to get to Budmouth afterwards." + +"I think you are very much to blame," said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"It was quite my fault we chose Anglebury," Thomasin pleaded. "I +proposed it because I was not known there." + +"I know so well that I am to blame that you need not remind me of it," +replied Wildeve shortly. + +"Such things don't happen for nothing," said the aunt. "It is a great +slight to me and my family; and when it gets known there will be a +very unpleasant time for us. How can she look her friends in the face +tomorrow? It is a very great injury, and one I cannot easily forgive. +It may even reflect on her character." + +"Nonsense," said Wildeve. + +Thomasin's large eyes had flown from the face of one to the face of +the other during this discussion, and she now said anxiously, "Will +you allow me, aunt, to talk it over alone with Damon for five minutes? +Will you, Damon?" + +"Certainly, dear," said Wildeve, "if your aunt will excuse us." He led +her into an adjoining room, leaving Mrs. Yeobright by the fire. + +As soon as they were alone, and the door closed, Thomasin said, +turning up her pale, tearful face to him, "It is killing me, this, +Damon! I did not mean to part from you in anger at Anglebury this +morning; but I was frightened, and hardly knew what I said. I've not +let aunt know how much I have suffered to-day; and it is so hard to +command my face and voice, and to smile as if it were a slight thing +to me; but I try to do so, that she may not be still more indignant +with you. I know you could not help it, dear, whatever aunt may +think." + +"She is very unpleasant." + +"Yes," Thomasin murmured, "and I suppose I seem so now... Damon, what +do you mean to do about me?" + +"Do about you?" + +"Yes. Those who don't like you whisper things which at moments make me +doubt you. We mean to marry, I suppose, don't we?" + +"Of course we do. We have only to go to Budmouth on Monday, and we +marry at once." + +"Then do let us go!--O Damon, what you make me say!" She hid her +face in her handkerchief. "Here am I asking you to marry me, when +by rights you ought to be on your knees imploring me, your cruel +mistress, not to refuse you, and saying it would break your heart if I +did. I used to think it would be pretty and sweet like that; but how +different!" + +"Yes, real life is never at all like that." + +"But I don't care personally if it never takes place," she added with +a little dignity; "no, I can live without you. It is aunt I think of. +She is so proud, and thinks so much of her family respectability, +that she will be cut down with mortification if this story should +get abroad before--it is done. My cousin Clym, too, will be much +wounded." + +"Then he will be very unreasonable. In fact, you are all rather +unreasonable." + +Thomasin coloured a little, and not with love. But whatever the +momentary feeling which caused that flush in her, it went as it came, +and she humbly said, "I never mean to be, if I can help it. I merely +feel that you have my aunt to some extent in your power at last." + +"As a matter of justice it is almost due to me," said Wildeve. "Think +what I have gone through to win her consent; the insult that it is +to any man to have the banns forbidden: the double insult to a man +unlucky enough to be cursed with sensitiveness, and blue demons, +and Heaven knows what, as I am. I can never forget those banns. A +harsher man would rejoice now in the power I have of turning upon your +aunt by going no further in the business." + +She looked wistfully at him with her sorrowful eyes as he said those +words, and her aspect showed that more than one person in the room +could deplore the possession of sensitiveness. Seeing that she was +really suffering he seemed disturbed and added, "This is merely a +reflection you know. I have not the least intention to refuse to +complete the marriage, Tamsie mine--I could not bear it." + +"You could not, I know!" said the fair girl, brightening. "You, who +cannot bear the sight of pain in even an insect, or any disagreeable +sound, or unpleasant smell even, will not long cause pain to me and +mine." + +"I will not, if I can help it." + +"Your hand upon it, Damon." + +He carelessly gave her his hand. + +"Ah, by my crown, what's that?" he said suddenly. + +There fell upon their ears the sound of numerous voices singing in +front of the house. Among these, two made themselves prominent by +their peculiarity: one was a very strong bass, the other a wheezy thin +piping. Thomasin recognized them as belonging to Timothy Fairway and +Grandfer Cantle respectively. + +"What does it mean--it is not skimmity-riding, I hope?" she said, with +a frightened gaze at Wildeve. + +"Of course not; no, it is that the heath-folk have come to sing to +us a welcome. This is intolerable!" He began pacing about, the men +outside singing cheerily-- + + + "He told' her that she' was the joy' of his life'. + And if' she'd con-sent' he would make her his wife'; + She could' not refuse' him; to church' so they went', + Young Will was forgot', and young Sue' was content'; + And then' was she kiss'd' and set down' on his knee', + No man' in the world' was so lov'-ing as he'!" + + +Mrs. Yeobright burst in from the outer room. "Thomasin, Thomasin!" +she said, looking indignantly at Wildeve; "here's a pretty exposure! +Let us escape at once. Come!" + +It was, however, too late to get away by the passage. A rugged +knocking had begun upon the door of the front room. Wildeve, who had +gone to the window, came back. + +"Stop!" he said imperiously, putting his hand upon Mrs. Yeobright's +arm. "We are regularly besieged. There are fifty of them out there +if there's one. You stay in this room with Thomasin; I'll go out and +face them. You must stay now, for my sake, till they are gone, so +that it may seem as if all was right. Come, Tamsie dear, don't go +making a scene--we must marry after this; that you can see as well as +I. Sit still, that's all--and don't speak much. I'll manage them. +Blundering fools!" + +He pressed the agitated girl into a seat, returned to the outer room +and opened the door. Immediately outside, in the passage, appeared +Grandfer Cantle singing in concert with those still standing in +front of the house. He came into the room and nodded abstractedly +to Wildeve, his lips still parted, and his features excruciatingly +strained in the emission of the chorus. This being ended, he said +heartily, "Here's welcome to the newmade couple, and God bless 'em!" + +"Thank you," said Wildeve, with dry resentment, his face as gloomy as +a thunderstorm. + +At the Grandfer's heels now came the rest of the group, which included +Fairway, Christian, Sam the turf-cutter, Humphrey, and a dozen others. +All smiled upon Wildeve, and upon his tables and chairs likewise, +from a general sense of friendliness towards the articles as well as +towards their owner. + +"We be not here afore Mrs. Yeobright after all," said Fairway, +recognizing the matron's bonnet through the glass partition which +divided the public apartment they had entered from the room where the +women sat. "We struck down across, d'ye see, Mr. Wildeve, and she +went round by the path." + +"And I see the young bride's little head!" said Grandfer, peeping in +the same direction, and discerning Thomasin, who was waiting beside +her aunt in a miserable and awkward way. "Not quite settled in +yet--well, well, there's plenty of time." + +Wildeve made no reply; and probably feeling that the sooner he treated +them the sooner they would go, he produced a stone jar, which threw a +warm halo over matters at once. + +"That's a drop of the right sort, I can see," said Grandfer Cantle, +with the air of a man too well-mannered to show any hurry to taste +it. + +"Yes," said Wildeve, "'tis some old mead. I hope you will like it." + +"O ay!" replied the guests, in the hearty tones natural when the words +demanded by politeness coincide with those of deepest feeling. "There +isn't a prettier drink under the sun." + +"I'll take my oath there isn't," added Grandfer Cantle. "All that can +be said against mead is that 'tis rather heady, and apt to lie about a +man a good while. But tomorrow's Sunday, thank God." + +"I feel'd for all the world like some bold soldier after I had had +some once," said Christian. + +"You shall feel so again," said Wildeve, with condescension, "Cups or +glasses, gentlemen?" + +"Well, if you don't mind, we'll have the beaker, and pass 'en round; +'tis better than heling it out in dribbles." + +"Jown the slippery glasses," said Grandfer Cantle. "What's the good +of a thing that you can't put down in the ashes to warm, hey, +neighbours; that's what I ask?" + +"Right, Grandfer," said Sam; and the mead then circulated. + +"Well," said Timothy Fairway, feeling demands upon his praise in some +form or other, "'tis a worthy thing to be married, Mr. Wildeve; and +the woman you've got is a dimant, so says I. Yes," he continued, to +Grandfer Cantle, raising his voice so as to be heard through the +partition, "her father (inclining his head towards the inner room) was +as good a feller as ever lived. He always had his great indignation +ready against anything underhand." + +"Is that very dangerous?" said Christian. + +"And there were few in these parts that were upsides with him," said +Sam. "Whenever a club walked he'd play the clarinet in the band that +marched before 'em as if he'd never touched anything but a clarinet +all his life. And then, when they got to church door he'd throw down +the clarinet, mount the gallery, snatch up the bass-viol, and rozum +away as if he'd never played anything but a bass-viol. Folk would +say--folk that knowed what a true stave was--'Surely, surely that's +never the same man that I saw handling the clarinet so masterly by +now!" + +"I can mind it," said the furze-cutter. "'Twas a wonderful thing that +one body could hold it all and never mix the fingering." + +"There was Kingsbere church likewise," Fairway recommenced, as one +opening a new vein of the same mine of interest. + +Wildeve breathed the breath of one intolerably bored, and glanced +through the partition at the prisoners. + +"He used to walk over there of a Sunday afternoon to visit his old +acquaintance Andrew Brown, the first clarinet there; a good man +enough, but rather screechy in his music, if you can mind?" + +"'A was." + +"And neighbour Yeobright would take Andrey's place for some part of +the service, to let Andrey have a bit of a nap, as any friend would +naturally do." + +"As any friend would," said Grandfer Cantle, the other listeners +expressing the same accord by the shorter way of nodding their heads. + +"No sooner was Andrey asleep and the first whiff of neighbour +Yeobright's wind had got inside Andrey's clarinet than everyone in +church feeled in a moment there was a great soul among 'em. All heads +would turn, and they'd say, 'Ah, I thought 'twas he!' One Sunday I can +well mind--a bass-viol day that time, and Yeobright had brought his +own. 'Twas the Hundred-and-thirty-third to 'Lydia'; and when they'd +come to 'Ran down his beard and o'er his robes its costly moisture +shed,' neighbour Yeobright, who had just warmed to his work, drove his +bow into them strings that glorious grand that he e'en a'most sawed +the bass-viol into two pieces. Every winder in church rattled as if +'twere a thunderstorm. Old Pa'son Williams lifted his hands in his +great holy surplice as natural as if he'd been in common clothes, and +seemed to say to hisself, 'O for such a man in our parish!' But not a +soul in Kingsbere could hold a candle to Yeobright." + +"Was it quite safe when the winder shook?" Christian inquired. + +He received no answer, all for the moment sitting rapt in admiration +of the performance described. As with Farinelli's singing before the +princesses, Sheridan's renowned Begum Speech, and other such examples, +the fortunate condition of its being for ever lost to the world +invested the deceased Mr. Yeobright's _tour de force_ on that +memorable afternoon with a cumulative glory which comparative +criticism, had that been possible, might considerably have shorn down. + +"He was the last you'd have expected to drop off in the prime of +life," said Humphrey. + +"Ah, well: he was looking for the earth some months afore he went. At +that time women used to run for smocks and gown-pieces at Greenhill +Fair, and my wife that is now, being a long-legged slittering maid, +hardly husband-high, went with the rest of the maidens, for 'a was +a good runner afore she got so heavy. When she came home I said--we +were then just beginning to walk together--'What have ye got, my +honey?' 'I've won--well, I've won--a gown-piece,' says she, her +colours coming up in a moment. 'Tis a smock for a crown, I thought; +and so it turned out. Ay, when I think what she'll say to me now +without a mossel of red in her face, it do seem strange that 'a +wouldn't say such a little thing then... However, then she went on, +and that's what made me bring up the story. 'Well, whatever clothes +I've won, white or figured, for eyes to see or for eyes not to see' +('a could do a pretty stroke of modesty in those days), 'I'd sooner +have lost it than have seen what I have. Poor Mr. Yeobright was took +bad directly he reached the fair ground, and was forced to go home +again.' That was the last time he ever went out of the parish." + +"'A faltered on from one day to another, and then we heard he was +gone." + +"D'ye think he had great pain when 'a died?" said Christian. + +"O no: quite different. Nor any pain of mind. He was lucky enough to +be God A'mighty's own man." + +"And other folk--d'ye think 'twill be much pain to 'em, Mister +Fairway?" + +"That depends on whether they be afeard." + +"I bain't afeard at all, I thank God!" said Christian strenuously. +"I'm glad I bain't, for then 'twon't pain me... I don't think I be +afeard--or if I be I can't help it, and I don't deserve to suffer. I +wish I was not afeard at all!" + +There was a solemn silence, and looking from the window, which was +unshuttered and unblinded, Timothy said, "Well, what a fess little +bonfire that one is, out by Cap'n Vye's! 'Tis burning just the same +now as ever, upon my life." + +All glances went through the window, and nobody noticed that Wildeve +disguised a brief, telltale look. Far away up the sombre valley of +heath, and to the right of Rainbarrow, could indeed be seen the light, +small, but steady and persistent as before. + +"It was lighted before ours was," Fairway continued; "and yet every +one in the country round is out afore 'n." + +"Perhaps there's meaning in it!" murmured Christian. + +"How meaning?" said Wildeve sharply. + +Christian was too scattered to reply, and Timothy helped him. + +"He means, sir, that the lonesome dark-eyed creature up there that +some say is a witch--ever I should call a fine young woman such a +name--is always up to some odd conceit or other; and so perhaps 'tis +she." + +"I'd be very glad to ask her in wedlock, if she'd hae me, and take +the risk of her wild dark eyes ill-wishing me," said Grandfer Cantle +staunchly. + +"Don't ye say it, father!" implored Christian. + +"Well, be dazed if he who do marry the maid won't hae an uncommon +picture for his best parlour," said Fairway in a liquid tone, placing +down the cup of mead at the end of a good pull. + +"And a partner as deep as the North Star," said Sam, taking up the cup +and finishing the little that remained. "Well, really, now I think we +must be moving," said Humphrey, observing the emptiness of the vessel. + + +"But we'll gie 'em another song?" said Grandfer Cantle. "I'm as full +of notes as a bird!" + +"Thank you, Grandfer," said Wildeve. "But we will not trouble you +now. Some other day must do for that--when I have a party." + +"Be jown'd if I don't learn ten new songs for't, or I won't learn a +line!" said Grandfer Cantle. "And you may be sure I won't disappoint +ye by biding away, Mr. Wildeve." + +"I quite believe you," said that gentleman. + +All then took their leave, wishing their entertainer long life and +happiness as a married man, with recapitulations which occupied some +time. Wildeve attended them to the door, beyond which the deep-dyed +upward stretch of heath stood awaiting them, an amplitude of darkness +reigning from their feet almost to the zenith, where a definite form +first became visible in the lowering forehead of Rainbarrow. Diving +into the dense obscurity in a line headed by Sam the turf-cutter, they +pursued their trackless way home. + +When the scratching of the furze against their leggings had fainted +upon the ear, Wildeve returned to the room where he had left Thomasin +and her aunt. The women were gone. + +They could only have left the house in one way, by the back window; +and this was open. + +Wildeve laughed to himself, remained a moment thinking, and idly +returned to the front room. Here his glance fell upon a bottle of +wine which stood on the mantelpiece. "Ah--old Dowden!" he murmured; +and going to the kitchen door shouted, "Is anybody here who can take +something to old Dowden?" + +There was no reply. The room was empty, the lad who acted as his +factotum having gone to bed. Wildeve came back put on his hat, took +the bottle, and left the house, turning the key in the door, for there +was no guest at the inn tonight. As soon as he was on the road the +little bonfire on Mistover Knap again met his eye. + +"Still waiting, are you, my lady?" he murmured. + +However, he did not proceed that way just then; but leaving the hill +to the left of him, he stumbled over a rutted road that brought him to +a cottage which, like all other habitations on the heath at this hour, +was only saved from being visible by a faint shine from its bedroom +window. This house was the home of Olly Dowden, the besom-maker, and +he entered. + +The lower room was in darkness; but by feeling his way he found a +table, whereon he placed the bottle, and a minute later emerged again +upon the heath. He stood and looked north-east at the undying little +fire--high up above him, though not so high as Rainbarrow. + +We have been told what happens when a woman deliberates; and the +epigram is not always terminable with woman, provided that one be in +the case, and that a fair one. Wildeve stood, and stood longer, and +breathed perplexedly, and then said to himself with resignation, +"Yes--by Heaven, I must go to her, I suppose!" + +Instead of turning in the direction of home he pressed on rapidly by a +path under Rainbarrow towards what was evidently a signal light. + + + + +VI + +The Figure against the Sky + + +When the whole Egdon concourse had left the site of the bonfire to its +accustomed loneliness, a closely wrapped female figure approached the +barrow from that quarter of the heath in which the little fire lay. +Had the reddleman been watching he might have recognized her as the +woman who had first stood there so singularly, and vanished at the +approach of strangers. She ascended to her old position at the top, +where the red coals of the perishing fire greeted her like living eyes +in the corpse of day. There she stood still, around her stretching the +vast night atmosphere, whose incomplete darkness in comparison with +the total darkness of the heath below it might have represented a +venial beside a mortal sin. + +That she was tall and straight in build, that she was lady-like in +her movements, was all that could be learnt of her just now, her form +being wrapped in a shawl folded in the old cornerwise fashion, and +her head in a large kerchief, a protection not superfluous at this +hour and place. Her back was towards the wind, which blew from the +north-west; but whether she had avoided that aspect because of the +chilly gusts which played about her exceptional position, or because +her interest lay in the south-east, did not at first appear. + +Her reason for standing so dead still as the pivot of this circle +of heath-country was just as obscure. Her extraordinary fixity, her +conspicuous loneliness, her heedlessness of night, betokened among +other things an utter absence of fear. A tract of country unaltered +from that sinister condition which made Caesar anxious every year +to get clear of its glooms before the autumnal equinox, a kind of +landscape and weather which leads travellers from the South to +describe our island as Homer's Cimmerian land, was not, on the face +of it, friendly to women. + +It might reasonably have been supposed that she was listening to the +wind, which rose somewhat as the night advanced, and laid hold of the +attention. The wind, indeed, seemed made for the scene, as the scene +seemed made for the hour. Part of its tone was quite special; what +was heard there could be heard nowhere else. Gusts in innumerable +series followed each other from the north-west, and when each one +of them raced past the sound of its progress resolved into three. +Treble, tenor, and bass notes were to be found therein. The general +ricochet of the whole over pits and prominences had the gravest pitch +of the chime. Next there could be heard the baritone buzz of a holly +tree. Below these in force, above them in pitch, a dwindled voice +strove hard at a husky tune, which was the peculiar local sound +alluded to. Thinner and less immediately traceable than the other +two, it was far more impressive than either. In it lay what may be +called the linguistic peculiarity of the heath; and being audible +nowhere on earth off a heath, it afforded a shadow of reason for the +woman's tenseness, which continued as unbroken as ever. + +Throughout the blowing of these plaintive November winds that note +bore a great resemblance to the ruins of human song which remain +to the throat of fourscore and ten. It was a worn whisper, dry and +papery, and it brushed so distinctly across the ear that, by the +accustomed, the material minutiae in which it originated could be +realized as by touch. It was the united products of infinitesimal +vegetable causes, and these were neither stems, leaves, fruit, blades, +prickles, lichen, nor moss. + +They were the mummied heath-bells of the past summer, originally +tender and purple, now washed colourless by Michaelmas rains, and +dried to dead skins by October suns. So low was an individual sound +from these that a combination of hundreds only just emerged from +silence, and the myriads of the whole declivity reached the woman's +ear but as a shrivelled and intermittent recitative. Yet scarcely a +single accent among the many afloat to-night could have such power to +impress a listener with thoughts of its origin. One inwardly saw the +infinity of those combined multitudes; and perceived that each of the +tiny trumpets was seized on, entered, scoured and emerged from by the +wind as thoroughly as if it were as vast as a crater. + +"The spirit moved them." A meaning of the phrase forced itself upon +the attention; and an emotional listener's fetichistic mood might have +ended in one of more advanced quality. It was not, after all, that +the left-hand expanse of old blooms spoke, or the right-hand, or those +of the slope in front; but it was the single person of something else +speaking through each at once. + +Suddenly, on the barrow, there mingled with all this wild rhetoric +of night a sound which modulated so naturally into the rest that its +beginning and ending were hardly to be distinguished. The bluffs, and +the bushes, and the heather-bells had broken silence; at last, so did +the woman; and her articulation was but as another phrase of the same +discourse as theirs. Thrown out on the winds it became twined in with +them, and with them it flew away. + +What she uttered was a lengthened sighing, apparently at something in +her mind which had led to her presence here. There was a spasmodic +abandonment about it as if, in allowing herself to utter the sound. +the woman's brain had authorized what it could not regulate. One +point was evident in this; that she had been existing in a suppressed +state, and not in one of languor, or stagnation. + +Far away down the valley the faint shine from the window of the inn +still lasted on; and a few additional moments proved that the window, +or what was within it, had more to do with the woman's sigh than had +either her own actions or the scene immediately around. She lifted +her left hand, which held a closed telescope. This she rapidly +extended, as if she were well accustomed to the operation, and raising +it to her eye directed it towards the light beaming from the inn. + +The handkerchief which had hooded her head was now a little thrown +back, her face being somewhat elevated. A profile was visible against +the dull monochrome of cloud around her; and it was as though side +shadows from the features of Sappho and Mrs. Siddons had converged +upwards from the tomb to form an image like neither but suggesting +both. This, however, was mere superficiality. In respect of +character a face may make certain admissions by its outline; but +it fully confesses only in its changes. So much is this the case +that what is called the play of the features often helps more in +understanding a man or woman than the earnest labours of all the other +members together. Thus the night revealed little of her whose form it +was embracing, for the mobile parts of her countenance could not be +seen. + +At last she gave up her spying attitude, closed the telescope, and +turned to the decaying embers. From these no appreciable beams now +radiated, except when a more than usually smart gust brushed over +their faces and raised a fitful glow which came and went like the +blush of a girl. She stooped over the silent circle, and selecting +from the brands a piece of stick which bore the largest live coal at +its end, brought it to where she had been standing before. + +She held the brand to the ground, blowing the red coal with her mouth +at the same time; till it faintly illuminated the sod, and revealed +a small object, which turned out to be an hourglass, though she wore +a watch. She blew long enough to show that the sand had all slipped +through. + +"Ah!" she said, as if surprised. + +The light raised by her breath had been very fitful, and a momentary +irradiation of flesh was all that it had disclosed of her face. That +consisted of two matchless lips and a cheek only, her head being still +enveloped. She threw away the stick, took the glass in her hand, the +telescope under her arm, and moved on. + +Along the ridge ran a faint foot-track, which the lady followed. +Those who knew it well called it a path; and, while a mere visitor +would have passed it unnoticed even by day, the regular haunters of +the heath were at no loss for it at midnight. The whole secret of +following these incipient paths, when there was not light enough in +the atmosphere to show a turnpike-road, lay in the development of the +sense of touch in the feet, which comes with years of night-rambling +in little-trodden spots. To a walker practised in such places a +difference between impact on maiden herbage, and on the crippled +stalks of a slight footway, is perceptible through the thickest boot +or shoe. + +The solitary figure who walked this beat took no notice of the windy +tune still played on the dead heath-bells. She did not turn her head +to look at a group of dark creatures further on, who fled from her +presence as she skirted a ravine where they fed. They were about a +score of the small wild ponies known as heath-croppers. They roamed at +large on the undulations of Egdon, but in numbers too few to detract +much from the solitude. + +The pedestrian noticed nothing just now, and a clue to her abstraction +was afforded by a trivial incident. A bramble caught hold of her +skirt, and checked her progress. Instead of putting it off and +hastening along, she yielded herself up to the pull, and stood +passively still. When she began to extricate herself it was by +turning round and round, and so unwinding the prickly switch. She was +in a desponding reverie. + +Her course was in the direction of the small undying fire which had +drawn the attention of the men on Rainbarrow and of Wildeve in the +valley below. A faint illumination from its rays began to glow upon +her face, and the fire soon revealed itself to be lit, not on the +level ground, but on a salient corner or redan of earth, at the +junction of two converging bank fences. Outside was a ditch, dry +except immediately under the fire, where there was a large pool, +bearded all round by heather and rushes. In the smooth water of the +pool the fire appeared upside down. + +The banks meeting behind were bare of a hedge, save such as was formed +by disconnected tufts of furze, standing upon stems along the top, +like impaled heads above a city wall. A white mast, fitted up with +spars and other nautical tackle, could be seen rising against the +dark clouds whenever the flames played brightly enough to reach it. +Altogether the scene had much the appearance of a fortification upon +which had been kindled a beacon fire. + +Nobody was visible; but ever and anon a whitish something moved above +the bank from behind, and vanished again. This was a small human +hand, in the act of lifting pieces of fuel into the fire; but for all +that could be seen the hand, like that which troubled Belshazzar, was +there alone. Occasionally an ember rolled off the bank, and dropped +with a hiss into the pool. + +At one side of the pool rough steps built of clods enabled any one +who wished to do so to mount the bank; which the woman did. Within +was a paddock in an uncultivated state, though bearing evidence of +having once been tilled; but the heath and fern had insidiously crept +in, and were reasserting their old supremacy. Further ahead were +dimly visible an irregular dwelling-house, garden, and outbuildings, +backed by a clump of firs. + +The young lady--for youth had revealed its presence in her buoyant +bound up the bank--walked along the top instead of descending inside, +and came to the corner where the fire was burning. One reason for the +permanence of the blaze was now manifest: the fuel consisted of hard +pieces of wood, cleft and sawn--the knotty boles of old thorn trees +which grew in twos and threes about the hillsides. A yet unconsumed +pile of these lay in the inner angle of the bank; and from this corner +the upturned face of a little boy greeted her eyes. He was dilatorily +throwing up a piece of wood into the fire every now and then, a +business which seemed to have engaged him a considerable part of the +evening, for his face was somewhat weary. + +"I am glad you have come, Miss Eustacia," he said, with a sigh of +relief. "I don't like biding by myself." + +"Nonsense. I have only been a little way for a walk. I have been gone +only twenty minutes." + +"It seemed long," murmured the sad boy. "And you have been so many +times." + +"Why, I thought you would be pleased to have a bonfire. Are you not +much obliged to me for making you one?" + +"Yes; but there's nobody here to play wi' me." + +"I suppose nobody has come while I've been away?" + +"Nobody except your grandfather: he looked out of doors once for 'ee. +I told him you were walking round upon the hill to look at the other +bonfires." + +"A good boy." + +"I think I hear him coming again, miss." + +An old man came into the remoter light of the fire from the direction +of the homestead. He was the same who had overtaken the reddleman on +the road that afternoon. He looked wistfully to the top of the bank at +the woman who stood there, and his teeth, which were quite unimpaired, +showed like parian from his parted lips. + +"When are you coming indoors, Eustacia?" he asked. "'Tis almost +bedtime. I've been home these two hours, and am tired out. Surely +'tis somewhat childish of you to stay out playing at bonfires so long, +and wasting such fuel. My precious thorn roots, the rarest of all +firing, that I laid by on purpose for Christmas--you have burnt 'em +nearly all!" + +"I promised Johnny a bonfire, and it pleases him not to let it go out +just yet," said Eustacia, in a way which told at once that she was +absolute queen here. "Grandfather, you go in to bed. I shall follow +you soon. You like the fire, don't you, Johnny?" + +The boy looked up doubtfully at her and murmured, "I don't think I +want it any longer." + +Her grandfather had turned back again, and did not hear the boy's +reply. As soon as the white-haired man had vanished she said in a +tone of pique to the child, "Ungrateful little boy, how can you +contradict me? Never shall you have a bonfire again unless you keep +it up now. Come, tell me you like to do things for me, and don't deny +it." + +The repressed child said, "Yes, I do, miss," and continued to stir the +fire perfunctorily. + +"Stay a little longer and I will give you a crooked six-pence," said +Eustacia, more gently. "Put in one piece of wood every two or three +minutes, but not too much at once. I am going to walk along the ridge +a little longer, but I shall keep on coming to you. And if you hear a +frog jump into the pond with a flounce like a stone thrown in, be sure +you run and tell me, because it is a sign of rain." + +"Yes, Eustacia." + +"Miss Vye, sir." + +"Miss Vy--stacia." + +"That will do. Now put in one stick more." + +The little slave went on feeding the fire as before. He seemed a +mere automaton, galvanized into moving and speaking by the wayward +Eustacia's will. He might have been the brass statue which Albertus +Magnus is said to have animated just so far as to make it chatter, +and move, and be his servant. + +Before going on her walk again the young girl stood still on the +bank for a few instants and listened. It was to the full as lonely a +place as Rainbarrow, though at rather a lower level; and it was more +sheltered from wind and weather on account of the few firs to the +north. The bank which enclosed the homestead, and protected it from +the lawless state of the world without, was formed of thick square +clods, dug from the ditch on the outside, and built up with a slight +batter or incline, which forms no slight defense where hedges will not +grow because of the wind and the wilderness, and where wall materials +are unattainable. Otherwise the situation was quite open, commanding +the whole length of the valley which reached to the river behind +Wildeve's house. High above this to the right, and much nearer +thitherward than the Quiet Woman Inn, the blurred contour of +Rainbarrow obstructed the sky. + +After her attentive survey of the wild slopes and hollow ravines a +gesture of impatience escaped Eustacia. She vented petulant words +every now and then, but there were sighs between her words, and sudden +listenings between her sighs. Descending from her perch she again +sauntered off towards Rainbarrow, though this time she did not go the +whole way. + +Twice she reappeared at intervals of a few minutes and each time she +said-- + +"Not any flounce into the pond yet, little man?" + +"No, Miss Eustacia," the child replied. + +"Well," she said at last, "I shall soon be going in, and then I will +give you the crooked sixpence, and let you go home." + +"Thank'ee, Miss Eustacia," said the tired stoker, breathing more +easily. And Eustacia again strolled away from the fire, but this time +not towards Rainbarrow. She skirted the bank and went round to the +wicket before the house, where she stood motionless, looking at the +scene. + +Fifty yards off rose the corner of the two converging banks, with the +fire upon it; within the bank, lifting up to the fire one stick at +a time, just as before, the figure of the little child. She idly +watched him as he occasionally climbed up in the nook of the bank and +stood beside the brands. The wind blew the smoke, and the child's +hair, and the corner of his pinafore, all in the same direction; the +breeze died, and the pinafore and hair lay still, and the smoke went +up straight. + +While Eustacia looked on from this distance the boy's form visibly +started: he slid down the bank and ran across towards the white gate. + +"Well?" said Eustacia. + +"A hop-frog have jumped into the pond. Yes, I heard 'en!" + +"Then it is going to rain, and you had better go home. You will not +be afraid?" She spoke hurriedly, as if her heart had leapt into her +throat at the boy's words. + +"No, because I shall hae the crooked sixpence." + +"Yes, here it is. Now run as fast as you can--not that way--through +the garden here. No other boy in the heath has had such a bonfire as +yours." + +The boy, who clearly had had too much of a good thing, marched away +into the shadows with alacrity. When he was gone Eustacia, leaving +her telescope and hour-glass by the gate, brushed forward from the +wicket towards the angle of the bank, under the fire. + +Here, screened by the outwork, she waited. In a few moments a splash +was audible from the pond outside. Had the child been there he would +have said that a second frog had jumped in; but by most people the +sound would have been likened to the fall of a stone into the water. +Eustacia stepped upon the bank. + +"Yes?" she said, and held her breath. + +Thereupon the contour of a man became dimly visible against the +low-reaching sky over the valley, beyond the outer margin of the pool. +He came round it and leapt upon the bank beside her. A low laugh +escaped her--the third utterance which the girl had indulged in +tonight. The first, when she stood upon Rainbarrow, had expressed +anxiety; the second, on the ridge, had expressed impatience; the +present was one of triumphant pleasure. She let her joyous eyes rest +upon him without speaking, as upon some wondrous thing she had created +out of chaos. + +"I have come," said the man, who was Wildeve. "You give me no peace. +Why do you not leave me alone? I have seen your bonfire all the +evening." The words were not without emotion, and retained their +level tone as if by a careful equipoise between imminent extremes. + +At this unexpectedly repressing manner in her lover the girl seemed to +repress herself also. "Of course you have seen my fire," she answered +with languid calmness, artificially maintained. "Why shouldn't I have +a bonfire on the Fifth of November, like other denizens of the heath?" + +"I knew it was meant for me." + +"How did you know it? I have had no word with you since you--you +chose her, and walked about with her, and deserted me entirely, as if +I had never been yours life and soul so irretrievably!" + +"Eustacia! could I forget that last autumn at this same day of the +month and at this same place you lighted exactly such a fire as a +signal for me to come and see you? Why should there have been a +bonfire again by Captain Vye's house if not for the same purpose?" + +"Yes, yes--I own it," she cried under her breath, with a drowsy +fervour of manner and tone which was quite peculiar to her. "Don't +begin speaking to me as you did, Damon; you will drive me to say words +I would not wish to say to you. I had given you up, and resolved not +to think of you any more; and then I heard the news, and I came out +and got the fire ready because I thought that you had been faithful to +me." + +"What have you heard to make you think that?" said Wildeve, +astonished. + +"That you did not marry her!" she murmured exultingly. "And I knew it +was because you loved me best, and couldn't do it... Damon, you have +been cruel to me to go away, and I have said I would never forgive +you. I do not think I can forgive you entirely, even now--it is too +much for a woman of any spirit to quite overlook." + +"If I had known you wished to call me up here only to reproach me, I +wouldn't have come." + +"But I don't mind it, and I do forgive you now that you have not +married her, and have come back to me!" + +"Who told you that I had not married her?" + +"My grandfather. He took a long walk today, and as he was coming home +he overtook some person who told him of a broken-off wedding: he +thought it might be yours, and I knew it was." + +"Does anybody else know?" + +"I suppose not. Now Damon, do you see why I lit my signal fire? You +did not think I would have lit it if I had imagined you to have become +the husband of this woman. It is insulting my pride to suppose that." + +Wildeve was silent; it was evident that he had supposed as much. + +"Did you indeed think I believed you were married?" she again demanded +earnestly. "Then you wronged me; and upon my life and heart I can +hardly bear to recognize that you have such ill thoughts of me! Damon, +you are not worthy of me: I see it, and yet I love you. Never mind, +let it go--I must bear your mean opinion as best I may... It is true, +is it not," she added with ill-concealed anxiety, on his making no +demonstration, "that you could not bring yourself to give me up, and +are still going to love me best of all?" + +"Yes; or why should I have come?" he said touchily. "Not that +fidelity will be any great merit in me after your kind speech +about my unworthiness, which should have been said by myself if by +anybody, and comes with an ill grace from you. However, the curse +of inflammability is upon me, and I must live under it, and take +any snub from a woman. It has brought me down from engineering to +innkeeping: what lower stage it has in store for me I have yet to +learn." He continued to look upon her gloomily. + +She seized the moment, and throwing back the shawl so that the +firelight shone full upon her face and throat, said with a smile, +"Have you seen anything better than that in your travels?" + +Eustacia was not one to commit herself to such a position without good +ground. He said quietly, "No." + +"Not even on the shoulders of Thomasin?" + +"Thomasin is a pleasing and innocent woman." + +"That's nothing to do with it," she cried with quick passionateness. +"We will leave her out; there are only you and me now to think of." +After a long look at him she resumed with the old quiescent warmth: +"Must I go on weakly confessing to you things a woman ought to +conceal; and own that no words can express how gloomy I have been +because of that dreadful belief I held till two hours ago--that you +had quite deserted me?" + +"I am sorry I caused you that pain." + +"But perhaps it is not wholly because of you that I get gloomy," she +archly added. "It is in my nature to feel like that. It was born in +my blood, I suppose." + +"Hypochondriasis." + +"Or else it was coming into this wild heath. I was happy enough at +Budmouth. O the times, O the days at Budmouth! But Egdon will be +brighter again now." + +"I hope it will," said Wildeve moodily. "Do you know the consequence +of this recall to me, my old darling? I shall come to see you again +as before, at Rainbarrow." + +"Of course you will." + +"And yet I declare that until I got here tonight I intended, after +this one good-bye, never to meet you again." + +"I don't thank you for that," she said, turning away, while +indignation spread through her like subterranean heat. "You may come +again to Rainbarrow if you like, but you won't see me; and you may +call, but I shall not listen; and you may tempt me, but I won't give +myself to you any more." + +"You have said as much before, sweet; but such natures as yours don't +so easily adhere to their words. Neither, for the matter of that, do +such natures as mine." + +"This is the pleasure I have won by my trouble," she whispered +bitterly. "Why did I try to recall you? Damon, a strange warring +takes place in my mind occasionally. I think when I become calm after +your woundings, 'Do I embrace a cloud of common fog after all?' You +are a chameleon, and now you are at your worst colour. Go home, or I +shall hate you!" + +He looked absently towards Rainbarrow while one might have counted +twenty, and said, as if he did not much mind all this, "Yes, I will go +home. Do you mean to see me again?" + +"If you own to me that the wedding is broken off because you love me +best." + +"I don't think it would be good policy," said Wildeve, smiling. "You +would get to know the extent of your power too clearly." + +"But tell me!" + +"You know." + +"Where is she now?" + +"I don't know. I prefer not to speak of her to you. I have not yet +married her; I have come in obedience to your call. That is enough." + +"I merely lit that fire because I was dull, and thought I would get +a little excitement by calling you up and triumphing over you as the +Witch of Endor called up Samuel. I determined you should come; and you +have come! I have shown my power. A mile and half hither, and a mile +and half back again to your home--three miles in the dark for me. +Have I not shown my power?" + +He shook his head at her. "I know you too well, my Eustacia; I know +you too well. There isn't a note in you which I don't know; and that +hot little bosom couldn't play such a coldblooded trick to save its +life. I saw a woman on Rainbarrow at dusk looking down towards my +house. I think I drew out you before you drew out me." + +The revived embers of an old passion glowed clearly in Wildeve now; +and he leant forward as if about to put his face towards her cheek. + +"O no," she said, intractably moving to the other side of the decayed +fire. "What did you mean by that?" + +"Perhaps I may kiss your hand?" + +"No, you may not." + +"Then I may shake your hand?" + +"No." + +"Then I wish you good night without caring for either. Good-bye, +good-bye." + +She returned no answer, and with the bow of a dancing-master he +vanished on the other side of the pool as he had come. + +Eustacia sighed: it was no fragile maiden sigh, but a sigh which +shook her like a shiver. Whenever a flash of reason darted like an +electric light upon her lover--as it sometimes would--and showed his +imperfections, she shivered thus. But it was over in a second, and +she loved on. She knew that he trifled with her; but she loved on. +She scattered the half-burnt brands, went indoors immediately, and up +to her bedroom without a light. Amid the rustles which denoted her to +be undressing in the darkness other heavy breaths frequently came; and +the same kind of shudder occasionally moved through her when, ten +minutes later, she lay on her bed asleep. + + + + +VII + +Queen of Night + + +Eustacia Vye was the raw material of a divinity. On Olympus she would +have done well with a little preparation. She had the passions and +instincts which make a model goddess, that is, those which make not +quite a model woman. Had it been possible for the earth and mankind +to be entirely in her grasp for a while, had she handled the distaff, +the spindle, and the shears at her own free will, few in the world +would have noticed the change of government. There would have been +the same inequality of lot, the same heaping up of favours here, +of contumely there, the same generosity before justice, the same +perpetual dilemmas, the same captious alteration of caresses and blows +that we endure now. + +She was in person full-limbed and somewhat heavy; without ruddiness, +as without pallor; and soft to the touch as a cloud. To see her hair +was to fancy that a whole winter did not contain darkness enough +to form its shadow: it closed over her forehead like nightfall +extinguishing the western glow. + +Her nerves extended into those tresses, and her temper could always +be softened by stroking them down. When her hair was brushed she +would instantly sink into stillness and look like the Sphinx. If, in +passing under one of the Egdon banks, any of its thick skeins were +caught, as they sometimes were, by a prickly tuft of the large _Ulex +Europaeus_--which will act as a sort of hairbrush--she would go back +a few steps, and pass against it a second time. + +She had pagan eyes, full of nocturnal mysteries, and their light, as +it came and went, and came again, was partially hampered by their +oppressive lids and lashes; and of these the under lid was much fuller +than it usually is with English women. This enabled her to indulge in +reverie without seeming to do so: she might have been believed capable +of sleeping without closing them up. Assuming that the souls of +men and women were visible essences, you could fancy the colour of +Eustacia's soul to be flame-like. The sparks from it that rose into +her dark pupils gave the same impression. + +The mouth seemed formed less to speak than to quiver, less to quiver +than to kiss. Some might have added, less to kiss than to curl. +Viewed sideways, the closing-line of her lips formed, with almost +geometric precision, the curve so well known in the arts of design as +the cima-recta, or ogee. The sight of such a flexible bend as that +on grim Egdon was quite an apparition. It was felt at once that the +mouth did not come over from Sleswig with a band of Saxon pirates +whose lips met like the two halves of a muffin. One had fancied that +such lip-curves were mostly lurking underground in the South as +fragments of forgotten marbles. So fine were the lines of her lips +that, though full, each corner of her mouth was as clearly cut as the +point of a spear. This keenness of corner was only blunted when she +was given over to sudden fits of gloom, one of the phases of the +night-side of sentiment which she knew too well for her years. + +Her presence brought memories of such things as Bourbon roses, rubies, +and tropical midnights; her moods recalled lotus-eaters and the march +in "Athalie"; her motions, the ebb and flow of the sea; her voice, the +viola. In a dim light, and with a slight rearrangement of her hair, +her general figure might have stood for that of either of the higher +female deities. The new moon behind her head, an old helmet upon +it, a diadem of accidental dewdrops round her brow, would have been +adjuncts sufficient to strike the note of Artemis, Athena, or Hera +respectively, with as close an approximation to the antique as that +which passes muster on many respected canvases. + +But celestial imperiousness, love, wrath, and fervour had proved to be +somewhat thrown away on netherward Egdon. Her power was limited, and +the consciousness of this limitation had biassed her development. +Egdon was her Hades, and since coming there she had imbibed much of +what was dark in its tone, though inwardly and eternally unreconciled +thereto. Her appearance accorded well with this smouldering +rebelliousness, and the shady splendour of her beauty was the real +surface of the sad and stifled warmth within her. A true Tartarean +dignity sat upon her brow, and not factitiously or with marks of +constraint, for it had grown in her with years. + +Across the upper part of her head she wore a thin fillet of black +velvet, restraining the luxuriance of her shady hair, in a way which +added much to this class of majesty by irregularly clouding her +forehead. "Nothing can embellish a beautiful face more than a narrow +band drawn over the brow," says Richter. Some of the neighbouring +girls wore coloured ribbon for the same purpose, and sported metallic +ornaments elsewhere; but if anyone suggested coloured ribbon and +metallic ornaments to Eustacia Vye she laughed and went on. + +Why did a woman of this sort live on Egdon Heath? Budmouth was her +native place, a fashionable seaside resort at that date. She was the +daughter of the bandmaster of a regiment which had been quartered +there--a Corfiote by birth, and a fine musician--who met his future +wife during her trip thither with her father the captain, a man of +good family. The marriage was scarcely in accord with the old man's +wishes, for the bandmaster's pockets were as light as his occupation. +But the musician did his best; adopted his wife's name, made England +permanently his home, took great trouble with his child's education, +the expenses of which were defrayed by the grandfather, and throve as +the chief local musician till her mother's death, when he left off +thriving, drank, and died also. The girl was left to the care of +her grandfather, who, since three of his ribs became broken in a +shipwreck, had lived in this airy perch on Egdon, a spot which had +taken his fancy because the house was to be had for next to nothing, +and because a remote blue tinge on the horizon between the hills, +visible from the cottage door, was traditionally believed to be the +English Channel. She hated the change; she felt like one banished; +but here she was forced to abide. + +Thus it happened that in Eustacia's brain were juxtaposed the +strangest assortment of ideas, from old time and from new. There was +no middle distance in her perspective: romantic recollections of +sunny afternoons on an esplanade, with military bands, officers, and +gallants around, stood like gilded letters upon the dark tablet of +surrounding Egdon. Every bizarre effect that could result from the +random intertwining of watering-place glitter with the grand solemnity +of a heath, was to be found in her. Seeing nothing of human life now, +she imagined all the more of what she had seen. + +Where did her dignity come from? By a latent vein from Alcinous' +line, her father hailing from Phaeacia's isle?--or from Fitzalan and +De Vere, her maternal grandfather having had a cousin in the peerage? +Perhaps it was the gift of Heaven--a happy convergence of natural +laws. Among other things opportunity had of late years been denied +her of learning to be undignified, for she lived lonely. Isolation on +a heath renders vulgarity well-nigh impossible. It would have been as +easy for the heath-ponies, bats, and snakes to be vulgar as for her. +A narrow life in Budmouth might have completely demeaned her. + +The only way to look queenly without realms or hearts to queen it +over is to look as if you had lost them; and Eustacia did that to a +triumph. In the captain's cottage she could suggest mansions she had +never seen. Perhaps that was because she frequented a vaster mansion +than any of them, the open hills. Like the summer condition of the +place around her, she was an embodiment of the phrase "a populous +solitude"--apparently so listless, void, and quiet, she was really +busy and full. + +To be loved to madness--such was her great desire. Love was to her the +one cordial which could drive away the eating loneliness of her days. +And she seemed to long for the abstraction called passionate love more +than for any particular lover. + +She could show a most reproachful look at times, but it was directed +less against human beings than against certain creatures of her mind, +the chief of these being Destiny, through whose interference she +dimly fancied it arose that love alighted only on gliding youth--that +any love she might win would sink simultaneously with the sand in +the glass. She thought of it with an ever-growing consciousness of +cruelty, which tended to breed actions of reckless unconventionality, +framed to snatch a year's, a week's, even an hour's passion from +anywhere while it could be won. Through want of it she had sung +without being merry, possessed without enjoying, outshone without +triumphing. Her loneliness deepened her desire. On Egdon, coldest +and meanest kisses were at famine prices; and where was a mouth +matching hers to be found? + +Fidelity in love for fidelity's sake had less attraction for her than +for most women: fidelity because of love's grip had much. A blaze of +love, and extinction, was better than a lantern glimmer of the same +which should last long years. On this head she knew by prevision what +most women learn only by experience: she had mentally walked round +love, told the towers thereof, considered its palaces, and concluded +that love was but a doleful joy. Yet she desired it, as one in a +desert would be thankful for brackish water. + +She often repeated her prayers; not at particular times, but, like the +unaffectedly devout, when she desired to pray. Her prayer was always +spontaneous, and often ran thus, "O deliver my heart from this fearful +gloom and loneliness; send me great love from somewhere, else I shall +die." + +Her high gods were William the Conqueror, Strafford, and Napoleon +Buonaparte, as they had appeared in the Lady's History used at the +establishment in which she was educated. Had she been a mother she +would have christened her boys such names as Saul or Sisera in +preference to Jacob or David, neither of whom she admired. At school +she had used to side with the Philistines in several battles, and had +wondered if Pontius Pilate were as handsome as he was frank and fair. + +Thus she was a girl of some forwardness of mind, indeed, weighed in +relation to her situation among the very rearward of thinkers, very +original. Her instincts towards social non-comformity were at the +root of this. In the matter of holidays, her mood was that of horses +who, when turned out to grass, enjoy looking upon their kind at work +on the highway. She only valued rest to herself when it came in the +midst of other people's labour. Hence she hated Sundays when all was +at rest, and often said they would be the death of her. To see the +heathmen in their Sunday condition, that is, with their hands in their +pockets, their boots newly oiled, and not laced up (a particularly +Sunday sign), walking leisurely among the turves and furze-faggots +they had cut during the week, and kicking them critically as if +their use were unknown, was a fearful heaviness to her. To relieve +the tedium of this untimely day she would overhaul the cupboards +containing her grandfather's old charts and other rubbish, humming +Saturday-night ballads of the country people the while. But on +Saturday nights she would frequently sing a psalm, and it was always +on a week-day that she read the Bible, that she might be unoppressed +with a sense of doing her duty. + +Such views of life were to some extent the natural begettings of her +situation upon her nature. To dwell on a heath without studying its +meanings was like wedding a foreigner without learning his tongue. +The subtle beauties of the heath were lost to Eustacia; she only +caught its vapours. An environment which would have made a contented +woman a poet, a suffering woman a devotee, a pious woman a psalmist, +even a giddy woman thoughtful, made a rebellious woman saturnine. + +Eustacia had got beyond the vision of some marriage of inexpressible +glory; yet, though her emotions were in full vigour, she cared for +no meaner union. Thus we see her in a strange state of isolation. To +have lost the godlike conceit that we may do what we will, and not to +have acquired a homely zest for doing what we can, shows a grandeur +of temper which cannot be objected to in the abstract, for it +denotes a mind that, though disappointed, forswears compromise. +But, if congenial to philosophy, it is apt to be dangerous to +the commonwealth. In a world where doing means marrying, and the +commonwealth is one of hearts and hands, the same peril attends the +condition. + +And so we see our Eustacia--for at times she was not altogether +unlovable--arriving at that stage of enlightenment which feels +that nothing is worth while, and filling up the spare hours of her +existence by idealizing Wildeve for want of a better object. This was +the sole reason of his ascendency: she knew it herself. At moments +her pride rebelled against her passion for him, and she even had +longed to be free. But there was only one circumstance which could +dislodge him, and that was the advent of a greater man. + +For the rest, she suffered much from depression of spirits, and took +slow walks to recover them, in which she carried her grandfather's +telescope and her grandmother's hourglass--the latter because of a +peculiar pleasure she derived from watching a material representation +of time's gradual glide away. She seldom schemed, but when she did +scheme, her plans showed rather the comprehensive strategy of a +general than the small arts called womanish, though she could utter +oracles of Delphian ambiguity when she did not choose to be direct. +In heaven she will probably sit between the Heloises and the +Cleopatras. + + + + +VIII + +Those Who Are Found Where There Is Said to Be Nobody + + +As soon as the sad little boy had withdrawn from the fire he clasped +the money tight in the palm of his hand, as if thereby to fortify his +courage, and began to run. There was really little danger in allowing +a child to go home alone on this part of Egdon Heath. The distance +to the boy's house was not more than three-eighths of a mile, his +father's cottage, and one other a few yards further on, forming part +of the small hamlet of Mistover Knap: the third and only remaining +house was that of Captain Vye and Eustacia, which stood quite away +from the small cottages, and was the loneliest of lonely houses on +these thinly populated slopes. + +He ran until he was out of breath, and then, becoming more courageous, +walked leisurely along, singing in an old voice a little song about a +sailor-boy and a fair one, and bright gold in store. In the middle of +this the child stopped: from a pit under the hill ahead of him shone a +light, whence proceeded a cloud of floating dust and a smacking noise. + +Only unusual sights and sounds frightened the boy. The shrivelled +voice of the heath did not alarm him, for that was familiar. The +thorn-bushes which arose in his path from time to time were less +satisfactory, for they whistled gloomily, and had a ghastly habit +after dark of putting on the shapes of jumping madmen, sprawling +giants, and hideous cripples. Lights were not uncommon this evening, +but the nature of all of them was different from this. Discretion +rather than terror prompted the boy to turn back instead of passing +the light, with a view of asking Miss Eustacia Vye to let her servant +accompany him home. + +When the boy had reascended to the top of the valley he found the fire +to be still burning on the bank, though lower than before. Beside it, +instead of Eustacia's solitary form, he saw two persons, the second +being a man. The boy crept along under the bank to ascertain from +the nature of the proceedings if it would be prudent to interrupt so +splendid a creature as Miss Eustacia on his poor trivial account. + +After listening under the bank for some minutes to the talk he turned +in a perplexed and doubting manner and began to withdraw as silently +as he had come. That he did not, upon the whole, think it advisable +to interrupt her conversation with Wildeve, without being prepared to +bear the whole weight of her displeasure, was obvious. + +Here was a Scyllaeo-Charybdean position for a poor boy. Pausing +when again safe from discovery, he finally decided to face the pit +phenomenon as the lesser evil. With a heavy sigh he retraced the +slope, and followed the path he had followed before. + +The light had gone, the rising dust had disappeared--he hoped for +ever. He marched resolutely along, and found nothing to alarm him +till, coming within a few yards of the sandpit, he heard a slight +noise in front, which led him to halt. The halt was but momentary, +for the noise resolved itself into the steady bites of two animals +grazing. + +"Two he'th-croppers down here," he said aloud. "I have never known +'em come down so far afore." + +The animals were in the direct line of his path, but that the child +thought little of; he had played round the fetlocks of horses from his +infancy. On coming nearer, however, the boy was somewhat surprised to +find that the little creatures did not run off, and that each wore a +clog, to prevent his going astray; this signified that they had been +broken in. He could now see the interior of the pit, which, being in +the side of the hill, had a level entrance. In the innermost corner +the square outline of a van appeared, with its back towards him. A +light came from the interior, and threw a moving shadow upon the +vertical face of gravel at the further side of the pit into which the +vehicle faced. + +The child assumed that this was the cart of a gipsy, and his dread +of those wanderers reached but to that mild pitch which titillates +rather than pains. Only a few inches of mud wall kept him and his +family from being gipsies themselves. He skirted the gravel-pit at +a respectful distance, ascended the slope, and came forward upon +the brow, in order to look into the open door of the van and see the +original of the shadow. + +The picture alarmed the boy. By a little stove inside the van sat +a figure red from head to heels--the man who had been Thomasin's +friend. He was darning a stocking, which was red like the rest of him. +Moreover, as he darned he smoked a pipe, the stem and bowl of which +were red also. + +At this moment one of the heath-croppers feeding in the outer shadows +was audibly shaking off the clog attached to its foot. Aroused by the +sound the reddleman laid down his stocking, lit a lantern which hung +beside him, and came out from the van. In sticking up the candle he +lifted the lantern to his face, and the light shone into the whites +of his eyes and upon his ivory teeth, which, in contrast with the +red surrounding, lent him a startling aspect enough to the gaze of a +juvenile. The boy knew too well for his peace of mind upon whose lair +he had lighted. Uglier persons than gipsies were known to cross Egdon +at times, and a reddleman was one of them. + +"How I wish 'twas only a gipsy!" he murmured. + +The man was by this time coming back from the horses. In his fear of +being seen the boy rendered detection certain by nervous motion. The +heather and peat stratum overhung the brow of the pit in mats, hiding +the actual verge. The boy had stepped beyond the solid ground; the +heather now gave way, and down he rolled over the scarp of grey sand +to the very foot of the man. + +The red man opened the lantern and turned it upon the figure of the +prostrate boy. + +"Who be ye?" he said. + +"Johnny Nunsuch, master!" + +"What were you doing up there?" + +"I don't know." + +"Watching me, I suppose?" + +"Yes, master." + +"What did you watch me for?" + +"Because I was coming home from Miss Vye's bonfire." + +"Beest hurt?" + +"No." + +"Why, yes, you be: your hand is bleeding. Come under my tilt and let +me tie it up." + +"Please let me look for my sixpence." + +"How did you come by that?" + +"Miss Vye gied it to me for keeping up her bonfire." + +The sixpence was found, and the man went to the van, the boy behind, +almost holding his breath. + +The man took a piece of rag from a satchel containing sewing +materials, tore off a strip, which, like everything else, was tinged +red, and proceeded to bind up the wound. + +"My eyes have got foggy-like--please may I sit down, master?" said the +boy. + +"To be sure, poor chap. 'Tis enough to make you feel fainty. Sit on +that bundle." + +The man finished tying up the gash, and the boy said, "I think I'll go +home now, master." + +"You are rather afraid of me. Do you know what I be?" + +The child surveyed his vermilion figure up and down with much +misgiving and finally said, "Yes." + +"Well, what?" + +"The reddleman!" he faltered. + +"Yes, that's what I be. Though there's more than one. You little +children think there's only one cuckoo, one fox, one giant, one devil, +and one reddleman, when there's lots of us all." + +"Is there? You won't carry me off in your bags, will ye, master? +'Tis said that the reddleman will sometimes." + +"Nonsense. All that reddlemen do is sell reddle. You see all these +bags at the back of my cart? They are not full of little boys--only +full of red stuff." + +"Was you born a reddleman?" + +"No, I took to it. I should be as white as you if I were to give up +the trade--that is, I should be white in time--perhaps six months: not +at first, because 'tis grow'd into my skin and won't wash out. Now, +you'll never be afraid of a reddleman again, will ye?" + +"No, never. Willy Orchard said he seed a red ghost here t'other +day--perhaps that was you?" + +"I was here t'other day." + +"Were you making that dusty light I saw by now?" + +"Oh yes: I was beating out some bags. And have you had a good bonfire +up there? I saw the light. Why did Miss Vye want a bonfire so bad +that she should give you sixpence to keep it up?" + +"I don't know. I was tired, but she made me bide and keep up the fire +just the same, while she kept going up across Rainbarrow way." + +"And how long did that last?" + +"Until a hopfrog jumped into the pond." + +The reddleman suddenly ceased to talk idly. "A hopfrog?" he inquired. +"Hopfrogs don't jump into ponds this time of year." + +"They do, for I heard one." + +"Certain-sure?" + +"Yes. She told me afore that I should hear'n; and so I did. They say +she's clever and deep, and perhaps she charmed 'en to come." + +"And what then?" + +"Then I came down here, and I was afeard, and I went back; but I +didn't like to speak to her, because of the gentleman, and I came on +here again." + +"A gentleman--ah! What did she say to him, my man?" + +"Told him she supposed he had not married the other woman because he +liked his old sweetheart best; and things like that." + +"What did the gentleman say to her, my sonny?" + +"He only said he did like her best, and how he was coming to see her +again under Rainbarrow o' nights." + +"Ha!" cried the reddleman, slapping his hand against the side of his +van so that the whole fabric shook under the blow. "That's the secret +o't!" + +The little boy jumped clean from the stool. + +"My man, don't you be afraid," said the dealer in red, suddenly +becoming gentle. "I forgot you were here. That's only a curious way +reddlemen have of going mad for a moment; but they don't hurt anybody. +And what did the lady say then?" + +"I can't mind. Please, Master Reddleman, may I go home-along now?" + +"Ay, to be sure you may. I'll go a bit of ways with you." + +He conducted the boy out of the gravel-pit and into the path leading +to his mother's cottage. When the little figure had vanished in the +darkness the reddleman returned, resumed his seat by the fire, and +proceeded to darn again. + + + + +IX + +Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy + + +Reddlemen of the old school are now but seldom seen. Since the +introduction of railways Wessex farmers have managed to do without +these Mephistophelian visitants, and the bright pigment so largely +used by shepherds in preparing sheep for the fair is obtained by other +routes. Even those who yet survive are losing the poetry of existence +which characterized them when the pursuit of the trade meant +periodical journeys to the pit whence the material was dug, a regular +camping out from month to month, except in the depth of winter, a +peregrination among farms which could be counted by the hundred, +and in spite of this Arab existence the preservation of that +respectability which is insured by the never-failing production of a +well-lined purse. + +Reddle spreads its lively hues over everything it lights on, and +stamps unmistakably, as with the mark of Cain, any person who has +handled it half an hour. + +A child's first sight of a reddleman was an epoch in his life. That +blood-coloured figure was a sublimation of all the horrid dreams +which had afflicted the juvenile spirit since imagination began. "The +reddleman is coming for you!" had been the formulated threat of Wessex +mothers for many generations. He was successfully supplanted for a +while, at the beginning of the present century, by Buonaparte; but as +process of time rendered the latter personage stale and ineffective +the older phrase resumed its early prominence. And now the reddleman +has in his turn followed Buonaparte to the land of worn-out bogeys, +and his place is filled by modern inventions. + +The reddleman lived like a gipsy; but gipsies he scorned. He was +about as thriving as travelling basket and mat makers; but he had +nothing to do with them. He was more decently born and brought up +than the cattle-drovers who passed and repassed him in his wanderings; +but they merely nodded to him. His stock was more valuable than that +of pedlars; but they did not think so, and passed his cart with eyes +straight ahead. He was such an unnatural colour to look at that the +men of round-abouts and wax-work shows seemed gentlemen beside him; +but he considered them low company, and remained aloof. Among all +these squatters and folks of the road the reddleman continually found +himself; yet he was not of them. His occupation tended to isolate +him, and isolated he was mostly seen to be. + +It was sometimes suggested that reddlemen were criminals for whose +misdeeds other men had wrongfully suffered: that in escaping the law +they had not escaped their own consciences, and had taken to the trade +as a lifelong penance. Else why should they have chosen it? In the +present case such a question would have been particularly apposite. +The reddleman who had entered Egdon that afternoon was an instance of +the pleasing being wasted to form the ground-work of the singular, +when an ugly foundation would have done just as well for that purpose. +The one point that was forbidding about this reddleman was his colour. +Freed from that he would have been as agreeable a specimen of rustic +manhood as one would often see. A keen observer might have been +inclined to think--which was, indeed, partly the truth--that he had +relinquished his proper station in life for want of interest in it. +Moreover, after looking at him one would have hazarded the guess +that good-nature, and an acuteness as extreme as it could be without +verging on craft, formed the frame-work of his character. + +While he darned the stocking his face became rigid with thought. +Softer expressions followed this, and then again recurred the tender +sadness which had sat upon him during his drive along the highway that +afternoon. Presently his needle stopped. He laid down the stocking, +arose from his seat, and took a leather pouch from a hook in the +corner of the van. This contained among other articles a brown-paper +packet, which, to judge from the hinge-like character of its worn +folds, seemed to have been carefully opened and closed a good many +times. He sat down on a three-legged milking stool that formed the +only seat in the van, and, examining his packet by the light of a +candle, took thence an old letter and spread it open. The writing had +originally been traced on white paper, but the letter had now assumed +a pale red tinge from the accident of its situation; and the black +strokes of writing thereon looked like the twigs of a winter hedge +against a vermilion sunset. The letter bore a date some two years +previous to that time, and was signed "Thomasin Yeobright." It ran as +follows:-- + + + DEAR DIGGORY VENN,--The question you put when you overtook + me coming home from Pond-close gave me such a surprise that + I am afraid I did not make you exactly understand what I + meant. Of course, if my aunt had not met me I could have + explained all then at once, but as it was there was no + chance. I have been quite uneasy since, as you know I do + not wish to pain you, yet I fear I shall be doing so now in + contradicting what I seemed to say then. I cannot, Diggory, + marry you, or think of letting you call me your sweetheart. + I could not, indeed, Diggory. I hope you will not much mind + my saying this, and feel in a great pain. It makes me very + sad when I think it may, for I like you very much, and I + always put you next to my cousin Clym in my mind. There are + so many reasons why we cannot be married that I can hardly + name them all in a letter. I did not in the least expect + that you were going to speak on such a thing when you + followed me, because I had never thought of you in the + sense of a lover at all. You must not becall me for laughing + when you spoke; you mistook when you thought I laughed at + you as a foolish man. I laughed because the idea was so odd, + and not at you at all. The great reason with my own personal + self for not letting you court me is, that I do not feel the + things a woman ought to feel who consents to walk with you + with the meaning of being your wife. It is not as you think, + that I have another in my mind, for I do not encourage + anybody, and never have in my life. Another reason is my + aunt. She would not, I know, agree to it, even if I wished + to have you. She likes you very well, but she will want me + to look a little higher than a small dairy-farmer, and marry + a professional man. I hope you will not set your heart + against me for writing plainly, but I felt you might try to + see me again, and it is better that we should not meet. I + shall always think of you as a good man, and be anxious for + your well-doing. I send this by Jane Orchard's little maid, + --And remain Diggory, your faithful friend, + + THOMASIN YEOBRIGHT + + To MR. VENN, Dairy-farmer + + +Since the arrival of that letter, on a certain autumn morning long +ago, the reddleman and Thomasin had not met till today. During the +interval he had shifted his position even further from hers than it +had originally been, by adopting the reddle trade; though he was +really in very good circumstances still. Indeed, seeing that his +expenditure was only one-fourth of his income, he might have been +called a prosperous man. + +Rejected suitors take to roaming as naturally as unhived bees; and +the business to which he had cynically devoted himself was in many +ways congenial to Venn. But his wanderings, by mere stress of old +emotions, had frequently taken an Egdon direction, though he never +intruded upon her who attracted him thither. To be in Thomasin's +heath, and near her, yet unseen, was the one ewe-lamb of pleasure +left to him. + +Then came the incident of that day, and the reddleman, still loving +her well, was excited by this accidental service to her at a critical +juncture to vow an active devotion to her cause, instead of, as +hitherto, sighing and holding aloof. After what had happened, it +was impossible that he should not doubt the honesty of Wildeve's +intentions. But her hope was apparently centred upon him; and +dismissing his regrets Venn determined to aid her to be happy in +her own chosen way. That this way was, of all others, the most +distressing to himself, was awkward enough; but the reddleman's love +was generous. + +His first active step in watching over Thomasin's interests was taken +about seven o'clock the next evening, and was dictated by the news +which he had learnt from the sad boy. That Eustacia was somehow the +cause of Wildeve's carelessness in relation to the marriage had at +once been Venn's conclusion on hearing of the secret meeting between +them. It did not occur to his mind that Eustacia's love-signal +to Wildeve was the tender effect upon the deserted beauty of the +intelligence which her grandfather had brought home. His instinct was +to regard her as a conspirator against rather than as an antecedent +obstacle to Thomasin's happiness. + +During the day he had been exceedingly anxious to learn the condition +of Thomasin; but he did not venture to intrude upon a threshold to +which he was a stranger, particularly at such an unpleasant moment as +this. He had occupied his time in moving with his ponies and load to +a new point in the heath, eastward to his previous station; and here +he selected a nook with a careful eye to shelter from wind and rain, +which seemed to mean that his stay there was to be a comparatively +extended one. After this he returned on foot some part of the way +that he had come; and, it being now dark, he diverged to the left till +he stood behind a holly-bush on the edge of a pit not twenty yards +from Rainbarrow. + +He watched for a meeting there, but he watched in vain. Nobody except +himself came near the spot that night. + +But the loss of his labour produced little effect upon the reddleman. +He had stood in the shoes of Tantalus, and seemed to look upon +a certain mass of disappointment as the natural preface to all +realizations, without which preface they would give cause for alarm. + +The same hour the next evening found him again at the same place; but +Eustacia and Wildeve, the expected trysters, did not appear. + +He pursued precisely the same course yet four nights longer, and +without success. But on the next, being the day-week of their +previous meeting, he saw a female shape floating along the ridge and +the outline of a young man ascending from the valley. They met in the +little ditch encircling the tumulus--the original excavation from +which it had been thrown up by the ancient British people. + +The reddleman, stung with suspicion of wrong to Thomasin, was aroused +to strategy in a moment. He instantly left the bush and crept forward +on his hands and knees. When he had got as close as he might safely +venture without discovery he found that, owing to a cross-wind, the +conversation of the trysting pair could not be overheard. + +Near him, as in divers places about the heath, were areas strewn with +large turves, which lay edgeways and upside down awaiting removal by +Timothy Fairway, previous to the winter weather. He took two of these +as he lay, and dragged them over him till one covered his head and +shoulders, the other his back and legs. The reddleman would now have +been quite invisible, even by daylight; the turves, standing upon him +with the heather upwards, looked precisely as if they were growing. +He crept along again, and the turves upon his back crept with him. +Had he approached without any covering the chances are that he would +not have been perceived in the dusk; approaching thus, it was as +though he burrowed underground. In this manner he came quite close to +where the two were standing. + +"Wish to consult me on the matter?" reached his ears in the rich, +impetuous accents of Eustacia Vye. "Consult me? It is an indignity +to me to talk so: I won't bear it any longer!" She began weeping. +"I have loved you, and have shown you that I loved you, much to my +regret; and yet you can come and say in that frigid way that you wish +to consult with me whether it would not be better to marry Thomasin. +Better--of course it would be. Marry her: she is nearer to your own +position in life than I am!" + +"Yes, yes; that's very well," said Wildeve peremptorily. "But we +must look at things as they are. Whatever blame may attach to me for +having brought it about, Thomasin's position is at present much worse +than yours. I simply tell you that I am in a strait." + +"But you shall not tell me! You must see that it is only harassing me. +Damon, you have not acted well; you have sunk in my opinion. You have +not valued my courtesy--the courtesy of a lady in loving you--who used +to think of far more ambitious things. But it was Thomasin's fault. +She won you away from me, and she deserves to suffer for it. Where +is she staying now? Not that I care, nor where I am myself. Ah, if I +were dead and gone how glad she would be! Where is she, I ask?" + +"Thomasin is now staying at her aunt's shut up in a bedroom, and +keeping out of everybody's sight," he said indifferently. + +"I don't think you care much about her even now," said Eustacia with +sudden joyousness: "for if you did you wouldn't talk so coolly about +her. Do you talk so coolly to her about me? Ah, I expect you do! Why +did you originally go away from me? I don't think I can ever forgive +you, except on one condition, that whenever you desert me, you come +back again, sorry that you served me so." + +"I never wish to desert you." + +"I do not thank you for that. I should hate it to be all smooth. +Indeed, I think I like you to desert me a little once now and then. +Love is the dismallest thing where the lover is quite honest. O, it +is a shame to say so; but it is true!" She indulged in a little laugh. +"My low spirits begin at the very idea. Don't you offer me tame love, +or away you go!" + +"I wish Tamsie were not such a confoundedly good little woman," said +Wildeve, "so that I could be faithful to you without injuring a worthy +person. It is I who am the sinner after all; I am not worth the +little finger of either of you." + +"But you must not sacrifice yourself to her from any sense of +justice," replied Eustacia quickly. "If you do not love her it is the +most merciful thing in the long run to leave her as she is. That's +always the best way. There, now I have been unwomanly, I suppose. +When you have left me I am always angry with myself for things that I +have said to you." + +Wildeve walked a pace or two among the heather without replying. The +pause was filled up by the intonation of a pollard thorn a little way +to windward, the breezes filtering through its unyielding twigs as +through a strainer. It was as if the night sang dirges with clenched +teeth. + +She continued, half sorrowfully, "Since meeting you last, it has +occurred to me once or twice that perhaps it was not for love of me +you did not marry her. Tell me, Damon: I'll try to bear it. Had I +nothing whatever to do with the matter?" + +"Do you press me to tell?" + +"Yes, I must know. I see I have been too ready to believe in my own +power." + +"Well, the immediate reason was that the license would not do for the +place, and before I could get another she ran away. Up to that point +you had nothing to do with it. Since then her aunt has spoken to me +in a tone which I don't at all like." + +"Yes, yes! I am nothing in it--I am nothing in it. You only trifle +with me. Heaven, what can I, Eustacia Vye, be made of to think so +much of you!" + +"Nonsense; do not be so passionate... Eustacia, how we roved among +these bushes last year, when the hot days had got cool, and the shades +of the hills kept us almost invisible in the hollows!" + +She remained in moody silence till she said, "Yes; and how I used to +laugh at you for daring to look up to me! But you have well made me +suffer for that since." + +"Yes, you served me cruelly enough until I thought I had found some +one fairer than you. A blessed find for me, Eustacia." + +"Do you still think you found somebody fairer?" + +"Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. The scales are balanced so nicely +that a feather would turn them." + +"But don't you really care whether I meet you or whether I don't?" she +said slowly. + +"I care a little, but not enough to break my rest," replied the young +man languidly. "No, all that's past. I find there are two flowers +where I thought there was only one. Perhaps there are three, or four, +or any number as good as the first... Mine is a curious fate. Who +would have thought that all this could happen to me?" + +She interrupted with a suppressed fire of which either love or anger +seemed an equally possible issue, "Do you love me now?" + +"Who can say?" + +"Tell me; I will know it!" + +"I do, and I do not," said he mischievously. "That is, I have my +times and my seasons. One moment you are too tall, another moment you +are too do-nothing, another too melancholy, another too dark, another +I don't know what, except--that you are not the whole world to me that +you used to be, my dear. But you are a pleasant lady to know, and nice +to meet, and I dare say as sweet as ever--almost." + +Eustacia was silent, and she turned from him, till she said, in a +voice of suspended mightiness, "I am for a walk, and this is my way." + +"Well, I can do worse than follow you." + +"You know you can't do otherwise, for all your moods and changes!" +she answered defiantly. "Say what you will; try as you may; keep away +from me all that you can--you will never forget me. You will love me +all your life long. You would jump to marry me!" + +"So I would!" said Wildeve. "Such strange thoughts as I've had from +time to time, Eustacia; and they come to me this moment. You hate the +heath as much as ever; that I know." + +"I do," she murmured deeply. "'Tis my cross, my shame, and will be my +death!" + +"I abhor it too," said he. "How mournfully the wind blows round us +now!" + +She did not answer. Its tone was indeed solemn and pervasive. +Compound utterances addressed themselves to their senses, and it was +possible to view by ear the features of the neighbourhood. Acoustic +pictures were returned from the darkened scenery; they could hear +where the tracts of heather began and ended; where the furze was +growing stalky and tall; where it had been recently cut; in what +direction the fir-clump lay, and how near was the pit in which the +hollies grew; for these differing features had their voices no less +than their shapes and colours. + +"God, how lonely it is!" resumed Wildeve. "What are picturesque +ravines and mists to us who see nothing else? Why should we stay +here? Will you go with me to America? I have kindred in Wisconsin." + +"That wants consideration." + +"It seems impossible to do well here, unless one were a wild bird or a +landscape-painter. Well?" + +"Give me time," she softly said, taking his hand. "America is so far +away. Are you going to walk with me a little way?" + +As Eustacia uttered the latter words she retired from the base of the +barrow, and Wildeve followed her, so that the reddleman could hear no +more. + +He lifted the turves and arose. Their black figures sank and +disappeared from against the sky. They were as two horns which the +sluggish heath had put forth from its crown, like a mollusc, and had +now again drawn in. + +The reddleman's walk across the vale, and over into the next where his +cart lay, was not sprightly for a slim young fellow of twenty-four. +His spirit was perturbed to aching. The breezes that blew around his +mouth in that walk carried off upon them the accents of a commination. + +He entered the van, where there was a fire in a stove. Without +lighting his candle he sat down at once on the three-legged stool, and +pondered on what he had seen and heard touching that still loved-one +of his. He uttered a sound which was neither sigh nor sob, but was +even more indicative than either of a troubled mind. + +"My Tamsie," he whispered heavily. "What can be done? Yes, I will see +that Eustacia Vye." + + + + +X + +A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion + + +The next morning, at the time when the height of the sun appeared very +insignificant from any part of the heath as compared with the altitude +of Rainbarrow, and when all the little hills in the lower levels were +like an archipelago in a fog-formed Aegean, the reddleman came from +the brambled nook which he had adopted as his quarters and ascended +the slopes of Mistover Knap. + +Though these shaggy hills were apparently so solitary, several keen +round eyes were always ready on such a wintry morning as this to +converge upon a passer-by. Feathered species sojourned here in hiding +which would have created wonder if found elsewhere. A bustard haunted +the spot, and not many years before this five and twenty might have +been seen in Egdon at one time. Marsh-harriers looked up from the +valley by Wildeve's. A cream-coloured courser had used to visit this +hill, a bird so rare that not more than a dozen have ever been seen +in England; but a barbarian rested neither night nor day till he had +shot the African truant, and after that event cream-coloured coursers +thought fit to enter Egdon no more. + +A traveller who should walk and observe any of these visitants as Venn +observed them now could feel himself to be in direct communication +with regions unknown to man. Here in front of him was a wild +mallard--just arrived from the home of the north wind. The creature +brought within him an amplitude of Northern knowledge. Glacial +catastrophes, snowstorm episodes, glittering auroral effects, Polaris +in the zenith, Franklin underfoot,--the category of his commonplaces +was wonderful. But the bird, like many other philosophers, seemed +as he looked at the reddleman to think that a present moment of +comfortable reality was worth a decade of memories. + +Venn passed on through these towards the house of the isolated beauty +who lived up among them and despised them. The day was Sunday; but +as going to church, except to be married or buried, was exceptional +at Egdon, this made little difference. He had determined upon the +bold stroke of asking for an interview with Miss Vye--to attack +her position as Thomasin's rival either by art or by storm, +showing therein, somewhat too conspicuously, the want of gallantry +characteristic of a certain astute sort of men, from clowns to kings. +The great Frederick making war on the beautiful Archduchess, Napoleon +refusing terms to the beautiful Queen of Prussia, were not more dead +to difference of sex than the reddleman was, in his peculiar way, in +planning the displacement of Eustacia. + +To call at the captain's cottage was always more or less an +undertaking for the inferior inhabitants. Though occasionally chatty, +his moods were erratic, and nobody could be certain how he would +behave at any particular moment. Eustacia was reserved, and lived +very much to herself. Except the daughter of one of the cotters, who +was their servant, and a lad who worked in the garden and stable, +scarcely anyone but themselves ever entered the house. They were the +only genteel people of the district except the Yeobrights, and though +far from rich, they did not feel that necessity for preserving a +friendly face towards every man, bird, and beast which influenced +their poorer neighbours. + +When the reddleman entered the garden the old man was looking through +his glass at the stain of blue sea in the distant landscape, the +little anchors on his buttons twinkling in the sun. He recognized +Venn as his companion on the highway, but made no remark on that +circumstance, merely saying, "Ah, reddleman--you here? Have a glass +of grog?" + +Venn declined, on the plea of it being too early, and stated that +his business was with Miss Vye. The captain surveyed him from cap +to waistcoat and from waistcoat to leggings for a few moments, and +finally asked him to go indoors. + +Miss Vye was not to be seen by anybody just then; and the reddleman +waited in the window-bench of the kitchen, his hands hanging across +his divergent knees, and his cap hanging from his hands. + +"I suppose the young lady is not up yet?" he presently said to the +servant. + +"Not quite yet. Folks never call upon ladies at this time of day." + +"Then I'll step outside," said Venn. "If she is willing to see me, +will she please send out word, and I'll come in." + +The reddleman left the house and loitered on the hill adjoining. +A considerable time elapsed, and no request for his presence was +brought. He was beginning to think that his scheme had failed, when +he beheld the form of Eustacia herself coming leisurely towards him. +A sense of novelty in giving audience to that singular figure had been +sufficient to draw her forth. + +She seemed to feel, after a bare look at Diggory Venn, that the man +had come on a strange errand, and that he was not so mean as she +had thought him; for her close approach did not cause him to writhe +uneasily, or shift his feet, or show any of those little signs which +escape an ingenuous rustic at the advent of the uncommon in womankind. +On his inquiring if he might have a conversation with her she replied, +"Yes, walk beside me," and continued to move on. + +Before they had gone far it occurred to the perspicacious +reddleman that he would have acted more wisely by appearing less +unimpressionable, and he resolved to correct the error as soon as he +could find opportunity. + +"I have made so bold, miss, as to step across and tell you some +strange news which has come to my ears about that man." + +"Ah! what man?" + +He jerked his elbow to the south-east--the direction of the Quiet +Woman. + +Eustacia turned quickly to him. "Do you mean Mr. Wildeve?" + +"Yes, there is trouble in a household on account of him, and I have +come to let you know of it, because I believe you might have power to +drive it away." + +"I? What is the trouble?" + +"It is quite a secret. It is that he may refuse to marry Thomasin +Yeobright after all." + +Eustacia, though set inwardly pulsing by his words, was equal to her +part in such a drama as this. She replied coldly, "I do not wish to +listen to this, and you must not expect me to interfere." + +"But, miss, you will hear one word?" + +"I cannot. I am not interested in the marriage, and even if I were I +could not compel Mr. Wildeve to do my bidding." + +"As the only lady on the heath I think you might," said Venn with +subtle indirectness. "This is how the case stands. Mr. Wildeve would +marry Thomasin at once, and make all matters smooth, if so be there +were not another woman in the case. This other woman is some person +he has picked up with, and meets on the heath occasionally, I believe. +He will never marry her, and yet through her he may never marry the +woman who loves him dearly. Now, if you, miss, who have so much sway +over us men-folk, were to insist that he should treat your young +neighbour Tamsin with honourable kindness and give up the other woman, +he would perhaps do it, and save her a good deal of misery." + +"Ah, my life!" said Eustacia, with a laugh which unclosed her lips +so that the sun shone into her mouth as into a tulip, and lent it +a similar scarlet fire. "You think too much of my influence over +men-folk indeed, reddleman. If I had such a power as you imagine I +would go straight and use it for the good of anybody who has been +kind to me--which Thomasin Yeobright has not particularly, to my +knowledge." + +"Can it be that you really don't know of it--how much she had always +thought of you?" + +"I have never heard a word of it. Although we live only two miles +apart I have never been inside her aunt's house in my life." + +The superciliousness that lurked in her manner told Venn that thus far +he had utterly failed. He inwardly sighed and felt it necessary to +unmask his second argument. + +"Well, leaving that out of the question, 'tis in your power, I assure +you, Miss Vye, to do a great deal of good to another woman." + +She shook her head. + +"Your comeliness is law with Mr. Wildeve. It is law with all men who +see 'ee. They say, 'This well-favoured lady coming--what's her name? +How handsome!' Handsomer than Thomasin Yeobright," the reddleman +persisted, saying to himself, "God forgive a rascal for lying!" And +she was handsomer, but the reddleman was far from thinking so. There +was a certain obscurity in Eustacia's beauty, and Venn's eye was not +trained. In her winter dress, as now, she was like the tiger-beetle, +which, when observed in dull situations, seems to be of the quietest +neutral colour, but under a full illumination blazes with dazzling +splendour. + +Eustacia could not help replying, though conscious that she endangered +her dignity thereby. "Many women are lovelier than Thomasin," she +said, "so not much attaches to that." + +The reddleman suffered the wound and went on: "He is a man who +notices the looks of women, and you could twist him to your will like +withywind, if you only had the mind." + +"Surely what she cannot do who has been so much with him I cannot do +living up here away from him." + +The reddleman wheeled and looked her in the face. "Miss Vye!" he +said. + +"Why do you say that--as if you doubted me?" She spoke faintly, and +her breathing was quick. "The idea of your speaking in that tone to +me!" she added, with a forced smile of hauteur. "What could have been +in your mind to lead you to speak like that?" + +"Miss Vye, why should you make believe that you don't know this +man?--I know why, certainly. He is beneath you, and you are ashamed." + +"You are mistaken. What do you mean?" + +The reddleman had decided to play the card of truth. "I was at the +meeting by Rainbarrow last night and heard every word," he said. "The +woman that stands between Wildeve and Thomasin is yourself." + +It was a disconcerting lift of the curtain, and the mortification of +Candaules' wife glowed in her. The moment had arrived when her lip +would tremble in spite of herself, and when the gasp could no longer +be kept down. + +"I am unwell," she said hurriedly. "No--it is not that--I am not in a +humour to hear you further. Leave me, please." + +"I must speak, Miss Vye, in spite of paining you. What I would put +before you is this. However it may come about--whether she is to +blame, or you--her case is without doubt worse than yours. Your +giving up Mr. Wildeve will be a real advantage to you, for how could +you marry him? Now she cannot get off so easily--everybody will blame +her if she loses him. Then I ask you--not because her right is best, +but because her situation is worst--to give him up to her." + +"No--I won't, I won't!" she said impetuously, quite forgetful of her +previous manner towards the reddleman as an underling. "Nobody has +ever been served so! It was going on well--I will not be beaten +down--by an inferior woman like her. It is very well for you to come +and plead for her, but is she not herself the cause of all her own +trouble? Am I not to show favour to any person I may choose without +asking permission of a parcel of cottagers? She has come between me +and my inclination, and now that she finds herself rightly punished +she gets you to plead for her!" + +"Indeed," said Venn earnestly, "she knows nothing whatever about it. +It is only I who ask you to give him up. It will be better for her +and you both. People will say bad things if they find out that a lady +secretly meets a man who has ill-used another woman." + +"I have NOT injured her--he was mine before he was hers! He came +back--because--because he liked me best!" she said wildly. "But I +lose all self-respect in talking to you. What am I giving way to!" + +"I can keep secrets," said Venn gently. "You need not fear. I am the +only man who knows of your meetings with him. There is but one thing +more to speak of, and then I will be gone. I heard you say to him +that you hated living here--that Egdon Heath was a jail to you." + +"I did say so. There is a sort of beauty in the scenery, I know; but +it is a jail to me. The man you mention does not save me from that +feeling, though he lives here. I should have cared nothing for him +had there been a better person near." + +The reddleman looked hopeful; after these words from her his third +attempt seemed promising. "As we have now opened our minds a bit, +miss," he said, "I'll tell you what I have got to propose. Since I +have taken to the reddle trade I travel a good deal, as you know." + +She inclined her head, and swept round so that her eyes rested in the +misty vale beneath them. + +"And in my travels I go near Budmouth. Now Budmouth is a wonderful +place--wonderful--a great salt sheening sea bending into the land +like a bow--thousands of gentlepeople walking up and down--bands of +music playing--officers by sea and officers by land walking among the +rest--out of every ten folks you meet nine of 'em in love." + +"I know it," she said disdainfully. "I know Budmouth better than you. +I was born there. My father came to be a military musician there from +abroad. Ah, my soul, Budmouth! I wish I was there now." + +The reddleman was surprised to see how a slow fire could blaze on +occasion. "If you were, miss," he replied, "in a week's time you +would think no more of Wildeve than of one of those he'th-croppers +that we see yond. Now, I could get you there." + +"How?" said Eustacia, with intense curiosity in her heavy eyes. + +"My uncle has been for five and twenty years the trusty man of a rich +widow-lady who has a beautiful house facing the sea. This lady has +become old and lame, and she wants a young company-keeper to read and +sing to her, but can't get one to her mind to save her life, though +she've advertised in the papers, and tried half a dozen. She would +jump to get you, and uncle would make it all easy." + +"I should have to work, perhaps?" + +"No, not real work: you'd have a little to do, such as reading and +that. You would not be wanted till New Year's Day." + +"I knew it meant work," she said, drooping to languor again. + +"I confess there would be a trifle to do in the way of amusing her; +but though idle people might call it work, working people would call +it play. Think of the company and the life you'd lead, miss; the +gaiety you'd see, and the gentleman you'd marry. My uncle is to +inquire for a trustworthy young lady from the country, as she don't +like town girls." + +"It is to wear myself out to please her! and I won't go. O, if I +could live in a gay town as a lady should, and go my own ways, and do +my own doings, I'd give the wrinkled half of my life! Yes, reddleman, +that would I." + +"Help me to get Thomasin happy, miss, and the chance shall be yours," +urged her companion. + +"Chance--'tis no chance," she said proudly. "What can a poor man like +you offer me, indeed?--I am going indoors. I have nothing more to +say. Don't your horses want feeding, or your reddlebags want mending, +or don't you want to find buyers for your goods, that you stay idling +here like this?" + +Venn spoke not another word. With his hands behind him he turned +away, that she might not see the hopeless disappointment in his face. +The mental clearness and power he had found in this lonely girl had +indeed filled his manner with misgiving even from the first few +minutes of close quarters with her. Her youth and situation had led +him to expect a simplicity quite at the beck of his method. But a +system of inducement which might have carried weaker country lasses +along with it had merely repelled Eustacia. As a rule, the word +Budmouth meant fascination on Egdon. That Royal port and watering +place, if truly mirrored in the minds of the heath-folk, must have +combined, in a charming and indescribable manner, a Carthaginian +bustle of building with Tarentine luxuriousness and Baian health and +beauty. Eustacia felt little less extravagantly about the place; but +she would not sink her independence to get there. + +When Diggory Venn had gone quite away, Eustacia walked to the bank and +looked down the wild and picturesque vale towards the sun, which was +also in the direction of Wildeve's. The mist had now so far collapsed +that the tips of the trees and bushes around his house could just be +discerned, as if boring upwards through a vast white cobweb which +cloaked them from the day. There was no doubt that her mind was +inclined thitherward; indefinitely, fancifully--twining and untwining +about him as the single object within her horizon on which dreams +might crystallize. The man who had begun by being merely her +amusement, and would never have been more than her hobby but for his +skill in deserting her at the right moments, was now again her desire. +Cessation in his love-making had revivified her love. Such feeling +as Eustacia had idly given to Wildeve was dammed into a flood by +Thomasin. She had used to tease Wildeve, but that was before another +had favoured him. Often a drop of irony into an indifferent situation +renders the whole piquant. + +"I will never give him up--never!" she said impetuously. + +The reddleman's hint that rumour might show her to disadvantage had +no permanent terror for Eustacia. She was as unconcerned at that +contingency as a goddess at a lack of linen. This did not originate +in inherent shamelessness, but in her living too far from the world to +feel the impact of public opinion. Zenobia in the desert could hardly +have cared what was said about her at Rome. As far as social ethics +were concerned Eustacia approached the savage state, though in emotion +she was all the while an epicure. She had advanced to the secret +recesses of sensuousness, yet had hardly crossed the threshold of +conventionality. + + + + +XI + +The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman + + +The reddleman had left Eustacia's presence with desponding views on +Thomasin's future happiness; but he was awakened to the fact that one +other channel remained untried by seeing, as he followed the way to +his van, the form of Mrs. Yeobright slowly walking towards the Quiet +Woman. He went across to her; and could almost perceive in her anxious +face that this journey of hers to Wildeve was undertaken with the same +object as his own to Eustacia. + +She did not conceal the fact. "Then," said the reddleman, "you may as +well leave it alone, Mrs. Yeobright." + +"I half think so myself," she said. "But nothing else remains to be +done besides pressing the question upon him." + +"I should like to say a word first," said Venn firmly. "Mr. Wildeve +is not the only man who has asked Thomasin to marry him; and why +should not another have a chance? Mrs. Yeobright, I should be glad +to marry your niece, and would have done it any time these last two +years. There, now it is out, and I have never told anybody before but +herself." + +Mrs. Yeobright was not demonstrative, but her eyes involuntarily +glanced towards his singular though shapely figure. + +"Looks are not everything," said the reddleman, noticing the glance. +"There's many a calling that don't bring in so much as mine, if it +comes to money; and perhaps I am not so much worse off than Wildeve. +There is nobody so poor as these professional fellows who have failed; +and if you shouldn't like my redness--well, I am not red by birth, you +know; I only took to this business for a freak; and I might turn my +hand to something else in good time." + +"I am much obliged to you for your interest in my niece; but I fear +there would be objections. More than that, she is devoted to this +man." + +"True; or I shouldn't have done what I have this morning." + +"Otherwise there would be no pain in the case, and you would not see +me going to his house now. What was Thomasin's answer when you told +her of your feelings?" + +"She wrote that you would object to me; and other things." + +"She was in a measure right. You must not take this unkindly: I +merely state it as a truth. You have been good to her, and we do not +forget it. But as she was unwilling on her own account to be your +wife, that settles the point without my wishes being concerned." + +"Yes. But there is a difference between then and now, ma'am. She is +distressed now, and I have thought that if you were to talk to her +about me, and think favourably of me yourself, there might be a chance +of winning her round, and getting her quite independent of this +Wildeve's backward and forward play, and his not knowing whether he'll +have her or no." + +Mrs. Yeobright shook her head. "Thomasin thinks, and I think with +her, that she ought to be Wildeve's wife, if she means to appear +before the world without a slur upon her name. If they marry soon, +everybody will believe that an accident did really prevent the +wedding. If not, it may cast a shade upon her character--at any rate +make her ridiculous. In short, if it is anyhow possible they must +marry now." + +"I thought that till half an hour ago. But, after all, why should +her going off with him to Anglebury for a few hours do her any harm? +Anybody who knows how pure she is will feel any such thought to +be quite unjust. I have been trying this morning to help on this +marriage with Wildeve--yes, I, ma'am--in the belief that I ought to +do it, because she was so wrapped up in him. But I much question if +I was right, after all. However, nothing came of it. And now I offer +myself." + +Mrs. Yeobright appeared disinclined to enter further into the +question. "I fear I must go on," she said. "I do not see that +anything else can be done." + +And she went on. But though this conversation did not divert +Thomasin's aunt from her purposed interview with Wildeve, it made a +considerable difference in her mode of conducting that interview. She +thanked God for the weapon which the reddleman had put into her hands. + +Wildeve was at home when she reached the inn. He showed her silently +into the parlour, and closed the door. Mrs. Yeobright began-- + +"I have thought it my duty to call today. A new proposal has been +made to me, which has rather astonished me. It will affect Thomasin +greatly; and I have decided that it should at least be mentioned to +you." + +"Yes? What is it?" he said civilly. + +"It is, of course, in reference to her future. You may not be aware +that another man has shown himself anxious to marry Thomasin. Now, +though I have not encouraged him yet, I cannot conscientiously refuse +him a chance any longer. I don't wish to be short with you; but I +must be fair to him and to her." + +"Who is the man?" said Wildeve with surprise. + +"One who has been in love with her longer than she has with you. He +proposed to her two years ago. At that time she refused him." + +"Well?" + +"He has seen her lately, and has asked me for permission to pay his +addresses to her. She may not refuse him twice." + +"What is his name?" + +Mrs. Yeobright declined to say. "He is a man Thomasin likes," she +added, "and one whose constancy she respects at least. It seems to me +that what she refused then she would be glad to get now. She is much +annoyed at her awkward position." + +"She never once told me of this old lover." + +"The gentlest women are not such fools as to show EVERY card." + +"Well, if she wants him I suppose she must have him." + +"It is easy enough to say that; but you don't see the difficulty. He +wants her much more than she wants him; and before I can encourage +anything of the sort I must have a clear understanding from you that +you will not interfere to injure an arrangement which I promote in the +belief that it is for the best. Suppose, when they are engaged, and +everything is smoothly arranged for their marriage, that you should +step between them and renew your suit? You might not win her back, +but you might cause much unhappiness." + +"Of course I should do no such thing," said Wildeve "But they are not +engaged yet. How do you know that Thomasin would accept him?" + +"That's a question I have carefully put to myself; and upon the whole +the probabilities are in favour of her accepting him in time. I +flatter myself that I have some influence over her. She is pliable, +and I can be strong in my recommendations of him." + +"And in your disparagement of me at the same time." + +"Well, you may depend upon my not praising you," she said drily. "And +if this seems like manoeuvring, you must remember that her position is +peculiar, and that she has been hardly used. I shall also be helped +in making the match by her own desire to escape from the humiliation +of her present state; and a woman's pride in these cases will lead +her a very great way. A little managing may be required to bring her +round; but I am equal to that, provided that you agree to the one +thing indispensable; that is, to make a distinct declaration that she +is to think no more of you as a possible husband. That will pique her +into accepting him." + +"I can hardly say that just now, Mrs. Yeobright. It is so sudden." + +"And so my whole plan is interfered with! It is very inconvenient +that you refuse to help my family even to the small extent of saying +distinctly you will have nothing to do with us." + +Wildeve reflected uncomfortably. "I confess I was not prepared for +this," he said. "Of course I'll give her up if you wish, if it is +necessary. But I thought I might be her husband." + +"We have heard that before." + +"Now, Mrs. Yeobright, don't let us disagree. Give me a fair time. I +don't want to stand in the way of any better chance she may have; only +I wish you had let me know earlier. I will write to you or call in a +day or two. Will that suffice?" + +"Yes," she replied, "provided you promise not to communicate with +Thomasin without my knowledge." + +"I promise that," he said. And the interview then terminated, Mrs. +Yeobright returning homeward as she had come. + +By far the greatest effect of her simple strategy on that day was, as +often happens, in a quarter quite outside her view when arranging it. +In the first place, her visit sent Wildeve the same evening after dark +to Eustacia's house at Mistover. + +At this hour the lonely dwelling was closely blinded and shuttered +from the chill and darkness without. Wildeve's clandestine plan with +her was to take a little gravel in his hand and hold it to the crevice +at the top of the window shutter, which was on the outside, so that it +should fall with a gentle rustle, resembling that of a mouse, between +shutter and glass. This precaution in attracting her attention was to +avoid arousing the suspicions of her grandfather. + +The soft words, "I hear; wait for me," in Eustacia's voice from within +told him that she was alone. + +He waited in his customary manner by walking round the enclosure and +idling by the pool, for Wildeve was never asked into the house by his +proud though condescending mistress. She showed no sign of coming +out in a hurry. The time wore on, and he began to grow impatient. In +the course of twenty minutes she appeared from round the corner, and +advanced as if merely taking an airing. + +"You would not have kept me so long had you known what I come about," +he said with bitterness. "Still, you are worth waiting for." + +"What has happened?" said Eustacia. "I did not know you were in +trouble. I too am gloomy enough." + +"I am not in trouble," said he. "It is merely that affairs have come +to a head, and I must take a clear course." + +"What course is that?" she asked with attentive interest. + +"And can you forget so soon what I proposed to you the other night? +Why, take you from this place, and carry you away with me abroad." + +"I have not forgotten. But why have you come so unexpectedly to +repeat the question, when you only promised to come next Saturday? I +thought I was to have plenty of time to consider." + +"Yes, but the situation is different now." + +"Explain to me." + +"I don't want to explain, for I may pain you." + +"But I must know the reason of this hurry." + +"It is simply my ardour, dear Eustacia. Everything is smooth now." + +"Then why are you so ruffled?" + +"I am not aware of it. All is as it should be. Mrs. Yeobright--but +she is nothing to us." + +"Ah, I knew she had something to do with it! Come, I don't like +reserve." + +"No--she has nothing. She only says she wishes me to give up Thomasin +because another man is anxious to marry her. The woman, now she no +longer needs me, actually shows off!" Wildeve's vexation had escaped +him in spite of himself. + +Eustacia was silent a long while. "You are in the awkward position of +an official who is no longer wanted," she said in a changed tone. + +"It seems so. But I have not yet seen Thomasin." + +"And that irritates you. Don't deny it, Damon. You are actually +nettled by this slight from an unexpected quarter." + +"Well?" + +"And you come to get me because you cannot get her. This is certainly +a new position altogether. I am to be a stop-gap." + +"Please remember that I proposed the same thing the other day." + +Eustacia again remained in a sort of stupefied silence. What curious +feeling was this coming over her? Was it really possible that her +interest in Wildeve had been so entirely the result of antagonism that +the glory and the dream departed from the man with the first sound +that he was no longer coveted by her rival? She was, then, secure +of him at last. Thomasin no longer required him. What a humiliating +victory! He loved her best, she thought; and yet--dared she to murmur +such treacherous criticism ever so softly?--what was the man worth +whom a woman inferior to herself did not value? The sentiment which +lurks more or less in all animate nature--that of not desiring the +undesired of others--was lively as a passion in the super-subtle, +epicurean heart of Eustacia. Her social superiority over him, which +hitherto had scarcely ever impressed her, became unpleasantly +insistent, and for the first time she felt that she had stooped in +loving him. + +"Well, darling, you agree?" said Wildeve. + +"If it could be London, or even Budmouth, instead of America," she +murmured languidly. "Well, I will think. It is too great a thing for +me to decide offhand. I wish I hated the heath less--or loved you +more." + +"You can be painfully frank. You loved me a month ago warmly enough +to go anywhere with me." + +"And you loved Thomasin." + +"Yes, perhaps that was where the reason lay," he returned, with almost +a sneer. "I don't hate her now." + +"Exactly. The only thing is that you can no longer get her." + +"Come--no taunts, Eustacia, or we shall quarrel. If you don't agree +to go with me, and agree shortly, I shall go by myself." + +"Or try Thomasin again. Damon, how strange it seems that you could +have married her or me indifferently, and only have come to me because +I am--cheapest! Yes, yes--it is true. There was a time when I should +have exclaimed against a man of that sort, and been quite wild; but it +is all past now." + +"Will you go, dearest? Come secretly with me to Bristol, marry me, +and turn our backs upon this dog-hole of England for ever? Say Yes." + +"I want to get away from here at almost any cost," she said with +weariness, "but I don't like to go with you. Give me more time to +decide." + +"I have already," said Wildeve. "Well, I give you one more week." + +"A little longer, so that I may tell you decisively. I have to +consider so many things. Fancy Thomasin being anxious to get rid of +you! I cannot forget it." + +"Never mind that. Say Monday week. I will be here precisely at this +time." + +"Let it be at Rainbarrow," said she. "This is too near home; my +grandfather may be walking out." + +"Thank you, dear. On Monday week at this time I will be at the +Barrow. Till then good-bye." + +"Good-bye. No, no, you must not touch me now. Shaking hands is enough +till I have made up my mind." + +Eustacia watched his shadowy form till it had disappeared. She placed +her hand to her forehead and breathed heavily; and then her rich, +romantic lips parted under that homely impulse--a yawn. She was +immediately angry at having betrayed even to herself the possible +evanescence of her passion for him. She could not admit at once that +she might have overestimated Wildeve, for to perceive his mediocrity +now was to admit her own great folly heretofore. And the discovery +that she was the owner of a disposition so purely that of the dog in +the manger had something in it which at first made her ashamed. + +The fruit of Mrs. Yeobright's diplomacy was indeed remarkable, though +not as yet of the kind she had anticipated. It had appreciably +influenced Wildeve, but it was influencing Eustacia far more. Her +lover was no longer to her an exciting man whom many women strove +for, and herself could only retain by striving with them. He was a +superfluity. + +She went indoors in that peculiar state of misery which is not exactly +grief, and which especially attends the dawnings of reason in the +latter days of an ill-judged, transient love. To be conscious that +the end of the dream is approaching, and yet has not absolutely come, +is one of the most wearisome as well as the most curious stages along +the course between the beginning of a passion and its end. + +Her grandfather had returned, and was busily engaged in pouring some +gallons of newly arrived rum into the square bottles of his square +cellaret. Whenever these home supplies were exhausted he would go to +the Quiet Woman, and, standing with his back to the fire, grog in +hand, tell remarkable stories of how he had lived seven years under +the water-line of his ship, and other naval wonders, to the natives, +who hoped too earnestly for a treat of ale from the teller to exhibit +any doubts of his truth. + +He had been there this evening. "I suppose you have heard the Egdon +news, Eustacia?" he said, without looking up from the bottles. "The +men have been talking about it at the Woman as if it were of national +importance." + +"I have heard none," she said. + +"Young Clym Yeobright, as they call him, is coming home next week to +spend Christmas with his mother. He is a fine fellow by this time, it +seems. I suppose you remember him?" + +"I never saw him in my life." + +"Ah, true; he left before you came here. I well remember him as a +promising boy." + +"Where has he been living all these years?" + +"In that rookery of pomp and vanity, Paris, I believe." + + + + +BOOK SECOND +THE ARRIVAL + + +I + +Tidings of the Comer + + +On fine days at this time of the year, and earlier, certain ephemeral +operations were apt to disturb, in their trifling way, the majestic +calm of Egdon Heath. They were activities which, beside those of a +town, a village, or even a farm, would have appeared as the ferment of +stagnation merely, a creeping of the flesh of somnolence. But here, +away from comparisons, shut in by the stable hills, among which mere +walking had the novelty of pageantry, and where any man could imagine +himself to be Adam without the least difficulty, they attracted the +attention of every bird within eyeshot, every reptile not yet asleep, +and set the surrounding rabbits curiously watching from hillocks at a +safe distance. + +The performance was that of bringing together and building into a +stack the furze-faggots which Humphrey had been cutting for the +captain's use during the foregoing fine days. The stack was at the +end of the dwelling, and the men engaged in building it were Humphrey +and Sam, the old man looking on. + +It was a fine and quiet afternoon, about three o'clock; but the winter +solstice having stealthily come on, the lowness of the sun caused +the hour to seem later than it actually was, there being little here +to remind an inhabitant that he must unlearn his summer experience +of the sky as a dial. In the course of many days and weeks sunrise +had advanced its quarters from north-east to south-east, sunset had +receded from north-west to south-west; but Egdon had hardly heeded the +change. + +Eustacia was indoors in the dining-room, which was really more like a +kitchen, having a stone floor and a gaping chimney-corner. The air was +still, and while she lingered a moment here alone sounds of voices in +conversation came to her ears directly down the chimney. She entered +the recess, and, listening, looked up the old irregular shaft, with +its cavernous hollows, where the smoke blundered about on its way +to the square bit of sky at the top, from which the daylight struck +down with a pallid glare upon the tatters of soot draping the flue as +seaweed drapes a rocky fissure. + +She remembered: the furze-stack was not far from the chimney, and the +voices were those of the workers. + +Her grandfather joined in the conversation. "That lad ought never to +have left home. His father's occupation would have suited him best, +and the boy should have followed on. I don't believe in these new +moves in families. My father was a sailor, so was I, and so should my +son have been if I had had one." + +"The place he's been living at is Paris," said Humphrey, "and they +tell me 'tis where the king's head was cut off years ago. My poor +mother used to tell me about that business. 'Hummy,' she used to say, +'I was a young maid then, and as I was at home ironing mother's caps +one afternoon the parson came in and said, "They've cut the king's +head off, Jane; and what 'twill be next God knows."'" + +"A good many of us knew as well as He before long," said the captain, +chuckling. "I lived seven years under water on account of it in my +boyhood--in that damned surgery of the _Triumph_, seeing men brought +down to the cockpit with their legs and arms blown to Jericho... And +so the young man has settled in Paris. Manager to a diamond merchant, +or some such thing, is he not?" + +"Yes, sir, that's it. 'Tis a blazing great business that he belongs +to, so I've heard his mother say--like a king's palace, as far as +diments go." + +"I can well mind when he left home," said Sam. + +"'Tis a good thing for the feller," said Humphrey. "A sight of times +better to be selling diments than nobbling about here." + +"It must cost a good few shillings to deal at such a place." + +"A good few indeed, my man," replied the captain. "Yes, you may make +away with a deal of money and be neither drunkard nor glutton." + +"They say, too, that Clym Yeobright is become a real perusing man, +with the strangest notions about things. There, that's because he +went to school early, such as the school was." + +"Strange notions, has he?" said the old man. "Ah, there's too much +of that sending to school in these days! It only does harm. Every +gatepost and barn's door you come to is sure to have some bad word or +other chalked upon it by the young rascals: a woman can hardly pass +for shame some times. If they'd never been taught how to write they +wouldn't have been able to scribble such villainy. Their fathers +couldn't do it, and the country was all the better for it." + +"Now, I should think, cap'n, that Miss Eustacia had about as much in +her head that comes from books as anybody about here?" + +"Perhaps if Miss Eustacia, too, had less romantic nonsense in her head +it would be better for her," said the captain shortly; after which he +walked away. + +"I say, Sam," observed Humphrey when the old man was gone, "she and +Clym Yeobright would make a very pretty pigeon-pair--hey? If they +wouldn't I'll be dazed! Both of one mind about niceties for certain, +and learned in print, and always thinking about high doctrine--there +couldn't be a better couple if they were made o' purpose. Clym's +family is as good as hers. His father was a farmer, that's true; but +his mother was a sort of lady, as we know. Nothing would please me +better than to see them two man and wife." + +"They'd look very natty, arm-in-crook together, and their best clothes +on, whether or no, if he's at all the well-favoured fellow he used to +be." + +"They would, Humphrey. Well, I should like to see the chap terrible +much after so many years. If I knew for certain when he was coming +I'd stroll out three or four miles to meet him and help carry anything +for'n; though I suppose he's altered from the boy he was. They say he +can talk French as fast as a maid can eat blackberries; and if so, +depend upon it we who have stayed at home shall seem no more than +scroff in his eyes." + +"Coming across the water to Budmouth by steamer, isn't he?" + +"Yes; but how he's coming from Budmouth I don't know." + +"That's a bad trouble about his cousin Thomasin. I wonder such a +nice-notioned fellow as Clym likes to come home into it. What a +nunnywatch we were in, to be sure, when we heard they weren't married +at all, after singing to 'em as man and wife that night! Be dazed if I +should like a relation of mine to have been made such a fool of by a +man. It makes the family look small." + +"Yes. Poor maid, her heart has ached enough about it. Her health is +suffering from it, I hear, for she will bide entirely indoors. We +never see her out now, scampering over the furze with a face as red +as a rose, as she used to do." + +"I've heard she wouldn't have Wildeve now if he asked her." + +"You have? 'Tis news to me." + +While the furze-gatherers had desultorily conversed thus Eustacia's +face gradually bent to the hearth in a profound reverie, her toe +unconsciously tapping the dry turf which lay burning at her feet. + +The subject of their discourse had been keenly interesting to her. A +young and clever man was coming into that lonely heath from, of all +contrasting places in the world, Paris. It was like a man coming from +heaven. More singular still, the heathmen had instinctively coupled +her and this man together in their minds as a pair born for each +other. + +That five minutes of overhearing furnished Eustacia with visions +enough to fill the whole blank afternoon. Such sudden alternations +from mental vacuity do sometimes occur thus quietly. She could never +have believed in the morning that her colourless inner world would +before night become as animated as water under a microscope, and +that without the arrival of a single visitor. The words of Sam and +Humphrey on the harmony between the unknown and herself had on her +mind the effect of the invading Bard's prelude in the "Castle of +Indolence," at which myriads of imprisoned shapes arose where had +previously appeared the stillness of a void. + +Involved in these imaginings she knew nothing of time. When she became +conscious of externals it was dusk. The furze-rick was finished; the +men had gone home. Eustacia went upstairs, thinking that she would +take a walk at this her usual time; and she determined that her walk +should be in the direction of Blooms-End, the birthplace of young +Yeobright and the present home of his mother. She had no reason for +walking elsewhere, and why should she not go that way? The scene of a +day-dream is sufficient for a pilgrimage at nineteen. To look at the +palings before the Yeobrights' house had the dignity of a necessary +performance. Strange that such a piece of idling should have seemed +an important errand. + +She put on her bonnet, and, leaving the house, descended the hill on +the side towards Blooms-End, where she walked slowly along the valley +for a distance of a mile and a half. This brought her to a spot in +which the green bottom of the dale began to widen, the furze bushes +to recede yet further from the path on each side, till they were +diminished to an isolated one here and there by the increasing +fertility of the soil. Beyond the irregular carpet of grass was a +row of white palings, which marked the verge of the heath in this +latitude. They showed upon the dusky scene that they bordered as +distinctly as white lace on velvet. Behind the white palings was a +little garden; behind the garden an old, irregular, thatched house, +facing the heath, and commanding a full view of the valley. This was +the obscure, removed spot to which was about to return a man whose +latter life had been passed in the French capital--the centre and +vortex of the fashionable world. + + + + +II + +The People at Blooms-End Make Ready + + +All that afternoon the expected arrival of the subject of Eustacia's +ruminations created a bustle of preparation at Blooms-End. Thomasin +had been persuaded by her aunt, and by an instinctive impulse of +loyalty towards her cousin Clym, to bestir herself on his account +with an alacrity unusual in her during these most sorrowful days of +her life. At the time that Eustacia was listening to the rickmakers' +conversation on Clym's return, Thomasin was climbing into a loft over +her aunt's fuel-house, where the store-apples were kept, to search out +the best and largest of them for the coming holiday-time. + +The loft was lighted by a semicircular hole, through which the pigeons +crept to their lodgings in the same high quarters of the premises; and +from this hole the sun shone in a bright yellow patch upon the figure +of the maiden as she knelt and plunged her naked arms into the soft +brown fern, which, from its abundance, was used on Egdon in packing +away stores of all kinds. The pigeons were flying about her head with +the greatest unconcern, and the face of her aunt was just visible +above the floor of the loft, lit by a few stray motes of light, as she +stood half-way up the ladder, looking at a spot into which she was not +climber enough to venture. + +"Now a few russets, Tamsin. He used to like them almost as well as +ribstones." + +Thomasin turned and rolled aside the fern from another nook, where +more mellow fruit greeted her with its ripe smell. Before picking +them out she stopped a moment. + +"Dear Clym, I wonder how your face looks now?" she said, gazing +abstractedly at the pigeon-hole, which admitted the sunlight so +directly upon her brown hair and transparent tissues that it almost +seemed to shine through her. + +"If he could have been dear to you in another way," said Mrs. +Yeobright from the ladder, "this might have been a happy meeting." + +"Is there any use in saying what can do no good, aunt?" + +"Yes," said her aunt, with some warmth. "To thoroughly fill the air +with the past misfortune, so that other girls may take warning and +keep clear of it." + +Thomasin lowered her face to the apples again. "I am a warning to +others, just as thieves and drunkards and gamblers are," she said in +a low voice. "What a class to belong to! Do I really belong to them? +'Tis absurd! Yet why, aunt, does everybody keep on making me think +that I do, by the way they behave towards me? Why don't people judge +me by my acts? Now, look at me as I kneel here, picking up these +apples--do I look like a lost woman?... I wish all good women were as +good as I!" she added vehemently. + +"Strangers don't see you as I do," said Mrs. Yeobright; "they judge +from false report. Well, it is a silly job, and I am partly to +blame." + +"How quickly a rash thing can be done!" replied the girl. Her lips +were quivering, and tears so crowded themselves into her eyes that +she could hardly distinguish apples from fern as she continued +industriously searching to hide her weakness. + +"As soon as you have finished getting the apples," her aunt said, +descending the ladder, "come down, and we'll go for the holly. There +is nobody on the heath this afternoon, and you need not fear being +stared at. We must get some berries, or Clym will never believe in +our preparations." + +Thomasin came down when the apples were collected, and together they +went through the white palings to the heath beyond. The open hills +were airy and clear, and the remote atmosphere appeared, as it often +appears on a fine winter day, in distinct planes of illumination +independently toned, the rays which lit the nearer tracts of landscape +streaming visibly across those further off; a stratum of ensaffroned +light was imposed on a stratum of deep blue, and behind these lay +still remoter scenes wrapped in frigid grey. + +They reached the place where the hollies grew, which was in a conical +pit, so that the tops of the trees were not much above the general +level of the ground. Thomasin stepped up into a fork of one of the +bushes, as she had done under happier circumstances on many similar +occasions, and with a small chopper that they had brought she began to +lop off the heavily-berried boughs. + +"Don't scratch your face," said her aunt, who stood at the edge of the +pit, regarding the girl as she held on amid the glistening green and +scarlet masses of the tree. "Will you walk with me to meet him this +evening?" + +"I should like to. Else it would seem as if I had forgotten him," +said Thomasin, tossing out a bough. "Not that that would matter much; +I belong to one man; nothing can alter that. And that man I must +marry, for my pride's sake." + +"I am afraid--" began Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Ah, you think, 'That weak girl--how is she going to get a man to +marry her when she chooses?' But let me tell you one thing, aunt: Mr. +Wildeve is not a profligate man, any more than I am an improper woman. +He has an unfortunate manner, and doesn't try to make people like him +if they don't wish to do it of their own accord." + +"Thomasin," said Mrs. Yeobright quietly, fixing her eye upon her +niece, "do you think you deceive me in your defence of Mr. Wildeve?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"I have long had a suspicion that your love for him has changed its +colour since you have found him not to be the saint you thought him, +and that you act a part to me." + +"He wished to marry me, and I wish to marry him." + +"Now, I put it to you: would you at this present moment agree to be +his wife if that had not happened to entangle you with him?" + +Thomasin looked into the tree and appeared much disturbed. "Aunt," she +said presently, "I have, I think, a right to refuse to answer that +question." + +"Yes, you have." + +"You may think what you choose. I have never implied to you by word +or deed that I have grown to think otherwise of him, and I never will. +And I shall marry him." + +"Well, wait till he repeats his offer. I think he may do it, now that +he knows--something I told him. I don't for a moment dispute that +it is the most proper thing for you to marry him. Much as I have +objected to him in bygone days, I agree with you now, you may be sure. +It is the only way out of a false position, and a very galling one." + +"What did you tell him?" + +"That he was standing in the way of another lover of yours." + +"Aunt," said Thomasin, with round eyes, "what DO you mean?" + +"Don't be alarmed; it was my duty. I can say no more about it now, +but when it is over I will tell you exactly what I said, and why I +said it." + +Thomasin was perforce content. + +"And you will keep the secret of my would-be marriage from Clym for +the present?" she next asked. + +"I have given my word to. But what is the use of it? He must soon +know what has happened. A mere look at your face will show him that +something is wrong." + +Thomasin turned and regarded her aunt from the tree. "Now, hearken to +me," she said, her delicate voice expanding into firmness by a force +which was other than physical. "Tell him nothing. If he finds out +that I am not worthy to be his cousin, let him. But, since he loved +me once, we will not pain him by telling him my trouble too soon. The +air is full of the story, I know; but gossips will not dare to speak +of it to him for the first few days. His closeness to me is the very +thing that will hinder the tale from reaching him early. If I am not +made safe from sneers in a week or two I will tell him myself." + +The earnestness with which Thomasin spoke prevented further +objections. Her aunt simply said, "Very well. He should by rights +have been told at the time that the wedding was going to be. He will +never forgive you for your secrecy." + +"Yes, he will, when he knows it was because I wished to spare him, and +that I did not expect him home so soon. And you must not let me stand +in the way of your Christmas party. Putting it off would only make +matters worse." + +"Of course I shall not. I do not wish to show myself beaten before +all Egdon, and the sport of a man like Wildeve. We have enough +berries now, I think, and we had better take them home. By the time +we have decked the house with this and hung up the mistletoe, we must +think of starting to meet him." + +Thomasin came out of the tree, shook from her hair and dress the loose +berries which had fallen thereon, and went down the hill with her +aunt, each woman bearing half the gathered boughs. It was now nearly +four o'clock, and the sunlight was leaving the vales. When the west +grew red the two relatives came again from the house and plunged into +the heath in a different direction from the first, towards a point in +the distant highway along which the expected man was to return. + + + + +III + +How a Little Sound Produced a Great Dream + + +Eustacia stood just within the heath, straining her eyes in the +direction of Mrs. Yeobright's house and premises. No light, sound, or +movement was perceptible there. The evening was chilly; the spot was +dark and lonely. She inferred that the guest had not yet come; and +after lingering ten or fifteen minutes she turned again towards home. + +She had not far retraced her steps when sounds in front of her +betokened the approach of persons in conversation along the same path. +Soon their heads became visible against the sky. They were walking +slowly; and though it was too dark for much discovery of character +from aspect, the gait of them showed that they were not workers on the +heath. Eustacia stepped a little out of the foot-track to let them +pass. They were two women and a man; and the voices of the women were +those of Mrs. Yeobright and Thomasin. + +They went by her, and at the moment of passing appeared to discern her +dusky form. There came to her ears in a masculine voice, "Good +night!" + +She murmured a reply, glided by them, and turned round. She could +not, for a moment, believe that chance, unrequested, had brought into +her presence the soul of the house she had gone to inspect, the man +without whom her inspection would not have been thought of. + +She strained her eyes to see them, but was unable. Such was her +intentness, however, that it seemed as if her ears were performing +the functions of seeing as well as hearing. This extension of power +can almost be believed in at such moments. The deaf Dr. Kitto was +probably under the influence of a parallel fancy when he described his +body as having become, by long endeavour, so sensitive to vibrations +that he had gained the power of perceiving by it as by ears. + +She could follow every word that the ramblers uttered. They were +talking no secrets. They were merely indulging in the ordinary +vivacious chat of relatives who have long been parted in person though +not in soul. But it was not to the words that Eustacia listened; she +could not even have recalled, a few minutes later, what the words +were. It was to the alternating voice that gave out about one-tenth of +them--the voice that had wished her good night. Sometimes this throat +uttered Yes, sometimes it uttered No; sometimes it made inquiries +about a timeworn denizen of the place. Once it surprised her notions +by remarking upon the friendliness and geniality written in the faces +of the hills around. + +The three voices passed on, and decayed and died out upon her ear. +Thus much had been granted her; and all besides withheld. No event +could have been more exciting. During the greater part of the +afternoon she had been entrancing herself by imagining the fascination +which must attend a man come direct from beautiful Paris--laden with +its atmosphere, familiar with its charms. And this man had greeted +her. + +With the departure of the figures the profuse articulations of the +women wasted away from her memory; but the accents of the other stayed +on. Was there anything in the voice of Mrs. Yeobright's son--for Clym +it was--startling as a sound? No; it was simply comprehensive. All +emotional things were possible to the speaker of that "good night." +Eustacia's imagination supplied the rest--except the solution to one +riddle. What COULD the tastes of that man be who saw friendliness and +geniality in these shaggy hills? + +On such occasions as this a thousand ideas pass through a highly +charged woman's head; and they indicate themselves on her face; but +the changes, though actual, are minute. Eustacia's features went +through a rhythmical succession of them. She glowed; remembering the +mendacity of the imagination, she flagged; then she freshened; then +she fired; then she cooled again. It was a cycle of aspects, produced +by a cycle of visions. + +Eustacia entered her own house; she was excited. Her grandfather was +enjoying himself over the fire, raking about the ashes and exposing +the red-hot surface of the turves, so that their lurid glare +irradiated the chimney-corner with the hues of a furnace. + +"Why is it that we are never friendly with the Yeobrights?" she said, +coming forward and stretching her soft hands over the warmth. "I wish +we were. They seem to be very nice people." + +"Be hanged if I know why," said the captain. "I liked the old man +well enough, though he was as rough as a hedge. But you would never +have cared to go there, even if you might have, I am well sure." + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"Your town tastes would find them far too countrified. They sit in +the kitchen, drink mead and elderwine, and sand the floor to keep it +clean. A sensible way of life; but would you like it?" + +"I thought Mrs. Yeobright was a ladylike woman? A curate's daughter, +was she not?" + +"Yes; but she was obliged to live as her husband did; and I suppose +she has taken kindly to it by this time. Ah, I recollect that I once +accidentally offended her, and I have never seen her since." + +That night was an eventful one to Eustacia's brain, and one which she +hardly ever forgot. She dreamt a dream; and few human beings, from +Nebuchadnezzar to the Swaffham tinker, ever dreamt a more remarkable +one. Such an elaborately developed, perplexing, exciting dream was +certainly never dreamed by a girl in Eustacia's situation before. +It had as many ramifications as the Cretan labyrinth, as many +fluctuations as the Northern Lights, as much colour as a parterre +in June, and was as crowded with figures as a coronation. To Queen +Scheherazade the dream might have seemed not far removed from +commonplace; and to a girl just returned from all the courts of +Europe it might have seemed not more than interesting. But amid the +circumstances of Eustacia's life it was as wonderful as a dream could +be. + +There was, however, gradually evolved from its transformation scenes a +less extravagant episode, in which the heath dimly appeared behind the +general brilliancy of the action. She was dancing to wondrous music, +and her partner was the man in silver armour who had accompanied her +through the previous fantastic changes, the visor of his helmet being +closed. The mazes of the dance were ecstatic. Soft whispering came +into her ear from under the radiant helmet, and she felt like a woman +in Paradise. Suddenly these two wheeled out from the mass of dancers, +dived into one of the pools of the heath, and came out somewhere +beneath into an iridescent hollow, arched with rainbows. "It must +be here," said the voice by her side, and blushingly looking up she +saw him removing his casque to kiss her. At that moment there was a +cracking noise, and his figure fell into fragments like a pack of +cards. + +She cried aloud. "O that I had seen his face!" + +Eustacia awoke. The cracking had been that of the window shutter +downstairs, which the maid-servant was opening to let in the day, now +slowly increasing to Nature's meagre allowance at this sickly time of +the year. "O that I had seen his face!" she said again. "'Twas meant +for Mr. Yeobright!" + +When she became cooler she perceived that many of the phases of the +dream had naturally arisen out of the images and fancies of the day +before. But this detracted little from its interest, which lay in the +excellent fuel it provided for newly kindled fervour. She was at the +modulating point between indifference and love, at the stage called +"having a fancy for." It occurs once in the history of the most +gigantic passions, and it is a period when they are in the hands of +the weakest will. + +The perfervid woman was by this time half in love with a vision. The +fantastic nature of her passion, which lowered her as an intellect, +raised her as a soul. If she had had a little more self-control she +would have attenuated the emotion to nothing by sheer reasoning, and +so have killed it off. If she had had a little less pride she might +have gone and circumambulated the Yeobrights' premises at Blooms-End +at any maidenly sacrifice until she had seen him. But Eustacia did +neither of these things. She acted as the most exemplary might have +acted, being so influenced; she took an airing twice or thrice a day +upon the Egdon hills, and kept her eyes employed. + +The first occasion passed, and he did not come that way. + +She promenaded a second time, and was again the sole wanderer there. + +The third time there was a dense fog; she looked around, but without +much hope. Even if he had been walking within twenty yards of her she +could not have seen him. + +At the fourth attempt to encounter him it began to rain in torrents, +and she turned back. + +The fifth sally was in the afternoon: it was fine, and she remained +out long, walking to the very top of the valley in which Blooms-End +lay. She saw the white paling about half a mile off; but he did not +appear. It was almost with heart-sickness that she came home and with +a sense of shame at her weakness. She resolved to look for the man +from Paris no more. + +But Providence is nothing if not coquettish; and no sooner had +Eustacia formed this resolve than the opportunity came which, while +sought, had been entirely withholden. + + + + +IV + +Eustacia Is Led On to an Adventure + + +In the evening of this last day of expectation, which was the +twenty-third of December, Eustacia was at home alone. She had +passed the recent hour in lamenting over a rumour newly come to +her ears--that Yeobright's visit to his mother was to be of short +duration, and would end some time the next week. "Naturally," she +said to herself. A man in the full swing of his activities in a gay +city could not afford to linger long on Egdon Heath. That she would +behold face to face the owner of the awakening voice within the limits +of such a holiday was most unlikely, unless she were to haunt the +environs of his mother's house like a robin, to do which was difficult +and unseemly. + +The customary expedient of provincial girls and men in such +circumstances is churchgoing. In an ordinary village or country town +one can safely calculate that, either on Christmas-day or the Sunday +contiguous, any native home for the holidays, who has not through age +or _ennui_ lost the appetite for seeing and being seen, will turn +up in some pew or other, shining with hope, self-consciousness, and +new clothes. Thus the congregation on Christmas morning is mostly +a Tussaud collection of celebrities who have been born in the +neighbourhood. Hither the mistress, left neglected at home all the +year, can steal and observe the development of the returned lover who +has forgotten her, and think as she watches him over her prayer-book +that he may throb with a renewed fidelity when novelties have lost +their charm. And hither a comparatively recent settler like Eustacia +may betake herself to scrutinize the person of a native son who left +home before her advent upon the scene, and consider if the friendship +of his parents be worth cultivating during his next absence in order +to secure a knowledge of him on his next return. + +But these tender schemes were not feasible among the scattered +inhabitants of Egdon Heath. In name they were parishioners, but +virtually they belonged to no parish at all. People who came to these +few isolated houses to keep Christmas with their friends remained in +their friends' chimney-corners drinking mead and other comforting +liquors till they left again for good and all. Rain, snow, ice, mud +everywhere around, they did not care to trudge two or three miles to +sit wet-footed and splashed to the nape of their necks among those +who, though in some measure neighbours, lived close to the church, and +entered it clean and dry. Eustacia knew it was ten to one that Clym +Yeobright would go to no church at all during his few days of leave, +and that it would be a waste of labour for her to go driving the pony +and gig over a bad road in hope to see him there. + +It was dusk, and she was sitting by the fire in the dining-room or +hall, which they occupied at this time of the year in preference to +the parlour, because of its large hearth, constructed for turf-fires, +a fuel the captain was partial to in the winter season. The only +visible articles in the room were those on the window-sill, which +showed their shapes against the low sky: the middle article being the +old hourglass, and the other two a pair of ancient British urns which +had been dug from a barrow near, and were used as flower-pots for two +razor-leaved cactuses. Somebody knocked at the door. The servant was +out; so was her grandfather. The person, after waiting a minute, came +in and tapped at the door of the room. + +"Who's there?" said Eustacia. + +"Please, Cap'n Vye, will you let us--" + +Eustacia arose and went to the door. "I cannot allow you to come in +so boldly. You should have waited." + +"The cap'n said I might come in without any fuss," was answered in a +lad's pleasant voice. + +"Oh, did he?" said Eustacia more gently. "What do you want, Charley?" + +"Please will your grandfather lend us his fuel-house to try over our +parts in, tonight at seven o'clock?" + +"What, are you one of the Egdon mummers for this year?" + +"Yes, miss. The cap'n used to let the old mummers practise here." + +"I know it. Yes, you may use the fuel-house if you like," said +Eustacia languidly. + +The choice of Captain Vye's fuel-house as the scene of rehearsal was +dictated by the fact that his dwelling was nearly in the centre of the +heath. The fuel-house was as roomy as a barn, and was a most desirable +place for such a purpose. The lads who formed the company of players +lived at different scattered points around, and by meeting in this +spot the distances to be traversed by all the comers would be about +equally proportioned. + +For mummers and mumming Eustacia had the greatest contempt. The +mummers themselves were not afflicted with any such feeling for +their art, though at the same time they were not enthusiastic. A +traditional pastime is to be distinguished from a mere revival in no +more striking feature than in this, that while in the revival all is +excitement and fervour, the survival is carried on with a stolidity +and absence of stir which sets one wondering why a thing that is done +so perfunctorily should be kept up at all. Like Balaam and other +unwilling prophets, the agents seem moved by an inner compulsion +to say and do their allotted parts whether they will or no. This +unweeting manner of performance is the true ring by which, in this +refurbishing age, a fossilized survival may be known from a spurious +reproduction. + +The piece was the well-known play of "Saint George," and all who were +behind the scenes assisted in the preparations, including the women +of each household. Without the cooperation of sisters and sweethearts +the dresses were likely to be a failure; but on the other hand, this +class of assistance was not without its drawbacks. The girls could +never be brought to respect tradition in designing and decorating the +armour; they insisted on attaching loops and bows of silk and velvet +in any situation pleasing to their taste. Gorget, gusset, basinet, +cuirass, gauntlet, sleeve, all alike in the view of these feminine +eyes were practicable spaces whereon to sew scraps of fluttering +colour. + +It might be that Joe, who fought on the side of Christendom, had a +sweetheart, and that Jim, who fought on the side of the Moslem, had +one likewise. During the making of the costumes it would come to the +knowledge of Joe's sweetheart that Jim's was putting brilliant silk +scallops at the bottom of her lover's surcoat, in addition to the +ribbons of the visor, the bars of which, being invariably formed of +coloured strips about half an inch wide hanging before the face, +were mostly of that material. Joe's sweetheart straightway placed +brilliant silk on the scallops of the hem in question, and, going a +little further, added ribbon tufts to the shoulder pieces. Jim's, not +to be outdone, would affix bows and rosettes everywhere. + +The result was that in the end the Valiant Soldier, of the Christian +army, was distinguished by no peculiarity of accoutrement from the +Turkish Knight; and what was worse, on a casual view Saint George +himself might be mistaken for his deadly enemy, the Saracen. The +guisers themselves, though inwardly regretting this confusion of +persons, could not afford to offend those by whose assistance they +so largely profited, and the innovations were allowed to stand. + +There was, it is true, a limit to this tendency to uniformity. +The Leech or Doctor preserved his character intact: his darker +habiliments, peculiar hat, and the bottle of physic slung under his +arm, could never be mistaken. And the same might be said of the +conventional figure of Father Christmas, with his gigantic club, an +older man, who accompanied the band as general protector in long night +journeys from parish to parish, and was bearer of the purse. + +Seven o'clock, the hour of the rehearsal, came round, and in a short +time Eustacia could hear voices in the fuel-house. To dissipate in +some trifling measure her abiding sense of the murkiness of human life +she went to the "linhay" or lean-to-shed, which formed the root-store +of their dwelling and abutted on the fuel-house. Here was a small +rough hole in the mud wall, originally made for pigeons, through which +the interior of the next shed could be viewed. A light came from it +now; and Eustacia stepped upon a stool to look in upon the scene. + +On a ledge in the fuel-house stood three tall rush-lights and by the +light of them seven or eight lads were marching about, haranguing, and +confusing each other, in endeavours to perfect themselves in the play. +Humphrey and Sam, the furze and turf cutters, were there looking on, +so also was Timothy Fairway, who leant against the wall and prompted +the boys from memory, interspersing among the set words remarks and +anecdotes of the superior days when he and others were the Egdon +mummers-elect that these lads were now. + +"Well, ye be as well up to it as ever ye will be," he said. "Not that +such mumming would have passed in our time. Harry as the Saracen +should strut a bit more, and John needn't holler his inside out. +Beyond that perhaps you'll do. Have you got all your clothes ready?" + +"We shall by Monday." + +"Your first outing will be Monday night, I suppose?" + +"Yes. At Mrs. Yeobright's." + +"Oh, Mrs. Yeobright's. What makes her want to see ye? I should think +a middle-aged woman was tired of mumming." + +"She's got up a bit of a party, because 'tis the first Christmas that +her son Clym has been home for a long time." + +"To be sure, to be sure--her party! I am going myself. I almost +forgot it, upon my life." + +Eustacia's face flagged. There was to be a party at the Yeobrights'; +she, naturally, had nothing to do with it. She was a stranger to +all such local gatherings, and had always held them as scarcely +appertaining to her sphere. But had she been going, what an +opportunity would have been afforded her of seeing the man whose +influence was penetrating her like summer sun! To increase that +influence was coveted excitement; to cast it off might be to regain +serenity; to leave it as it stood was tantalizing. + +The lads and men prepared to leave the premises, and Eustacia returned +to her fireside. She was immersed in thought, but not for long. In a +few minutes the lad Charley, who had come to ask permission to use the +place, returned with the key to the kitchen. Eustacia heard him, and +opening the door into the passage said, "Charley, come here." + +The lad was surprised. He entered the front room not without +blushing; for he, like many, had felt the power of this girl's face +and form. + +She pointed to a seat by the fire, and entered the other side of the +chimney-corner herself. It could be seen in her face that whatever +motive she might have had in asking the youth indoors would soon +appear. + +"Which part do you play, Charley--the Turkish Knight, do you not?" +inquired the beauty, looking across the smoke of the fire to him on +the other side. + +"Yes, miss, the Turkish Knight," he replied diffidently. + +"Is yours a long part?" + +"Nine speeches, about." + +"Can you repeat them to me? If so I should like to hear them." + +The lad smiled into the glowing turf and began-- + + + "Here come I, a Turkish Knight, + Who learnt in Turkish land to fight," + + +continuing the discourse throughout the scenes to the concluding +catastrophe of his fall by the hand of Saint George. + +Eustacia had occasionally heard the part recited before. When the lad +ended she began, precisely in the same words, and ranted on without +hitch or divergence till she too reached the end. It was the same +thing, yet how different. Like in form, it had the added softness +and finish of a Raffaelle after Perugino, which, while faithfully +reproducing the original subject, entirely distances the original art. + +Charley's eyes rounded with surprise. "Well, you be a clever lady!" +he said, in admiration. "I've been three weeks learning mine." + +"I have heard it before," she quietly observed. "Now, would you do +anything to please me, Charley?" + +"I'd do a good deal, miss." + +"Would you let me play your part for one night?" + +"Oh, miss! But your woman's gown--you couldn't." + +"I can get boy's clothes--at least all that would be wanted besides +the mumming dress. What should I have to give you to lend me your +things, to let me take your place for an hour or two on Monday night, +and on no account to say a word about who or what I am? You would, of +course, have to excuse yourself from playing that night, and to say +that somebody--a cousin of Miss Vye's--would act for you. The other +mummers have never spoken to me in their lives, so that it would be +safe enough; and if it were not, I should not mind. Now, what must I +give you to agree to this? Half a crown?" + +The youth shook his head + +"Five shillings?" + +He shook his head again. "Money won't do it," he said, brushing the +iron head of the fire-dog with the hollow of his hand. + +"What will, then, Charley?" said Eustacia in a disappointed tone. + +"You know what you forbade me at the Maypoling, miss," murmured the +lad, without looking at her, and still stroking the firedog's head. + +"Yes," said Eustacia, with a little more hauteur. "You wanted to join +hands with me in the ring, if I recollect?" + +"Half an hour of that, and I'll agree, miss." + +Eustacia regarded the youth steadfastly. He was three years younger +than herself, but apparently not backward for his age. "Half an hour +of what?" she said, though she guessed what. + +"Holding your hand in mine." + +She was silent. "Make it a quarter of an hour," she said. + +"Yes, Miss Eustacia--I will, if I may kiss it too. A quarter of an +hour. And I'll swear to do the best I can to let you take my place +without anybody knowing. Don't you think somebody might know your +tongue, miss?" + +"It is possible. But I will put a pebble in my mouth to make is less +likely. Very well; you shall be allowed to have my hand as soon as +you bring the dress and your sword and staff. I don't want you any +longer now." + +Charley departed, and Eustacia felt more and more interest in life. +Here was something to do: here was some one to see, and a charmingly +adventurous way to see him. "Ah," she said to herself, "want of an +object to live for--that's all is the matter with me!" + +Eustacia's manner was as a rule of a slumberous sort, her passions +being of the massive rather than the vivacious kind. But when aroused +she would make a dash which, just for the time, was not unlike the +move of a naturally lively person. + +On the question of recognition she was somewhat indifferent. By +the acting lads themselves she was not likely to be known. With the +guests who might be assembled she was hardly so secure. Yet detection, +after all, would be no such dreadful thing. The fact only could be +detected, her true motive never. It would be instantly set down as the +passing freak of a girl whose ways were already considered singular. +That she was doing for an earnest reason what would most naturally be +done in jest was at any rate a safe secret. + + + +The next evening Eustacia stood punctually at the fuel-house door, +waiting for the dusk which was to bring Charley with the trappings. +Her grandfather was at home tonight, and she would be unable to ask +her confederate indoors. + +He appeared on the dark ridge of heathland, like a fly on a negro, +bearing the articles with him, and came up breathless with his walk. + +"Here are the things," he whispered, placing them upon the threshold. +"And now, Miss Eustacia--" + +"The payment. It is quite ready. I am as good as my word." + +She leant against the door-post, and gave him her hand. Charley took +it in both his own with a tenderness beyond description, unless it was +like that of a child holding a captured sparrow. + +"Why, there's a glove on it!" he said in a deprecating way. + +"I have been walking," she observed. + +"But, miss!" + +"Well--it is hardly fair." She pulled off the glove, and gave him her +bare hand. + +They stood together minute after minute, without further speech, each +looking at the blackening scene, and each thinking his and her own +thoughts. + +"I think I won't use it all up tonight," said Charley devotedly, when +six or eight minutes had been passed by him caressing her hand. "May +I have the other few minutes another time?" + +"As you like," said she without the least emotion. "But it must be +over in a week. Now, there is only one thing I want you to do: to wait +while I put on the dress, and then to see if I do my part properly. +But let me look first indoors." + +She vanished for a minute or two, and went in. Her grandfather was +safely asleep in his chair. "Now, then," she said, on returning, +"walk down the garden a little way, and when I am ready I'll call +you." + +Charley walked and waited, and presently heard a soft whistle. He +returned to the fuel-house door. + +"Did you whistle, Miss Vye?" + +"Yes; come in," reached him in Eustacia's voice from a back quarter. +"I must not strike a light till the door is shut, or it may be seen +shining. Push your hat into the hole through to the wash-house, if +you can feel your way across." + +Charley did as commanded, and she struck the light, revealing herself +to be changed in sex, brilliant in colours, and armed from top to +toe. Perhaps she quailed a little under Charley's vigorous gaze, but +whether any shyness at her male attire appeared upon her countenance +could not be seen by reason of the strips of ribbon which used to +cover the face in mumming costumes, representing the barred visor of +the mediaeval helmet. + +"It fits pretty well," she said, looking down at the white overalls, +"except that the tunic, or whatever you call it, is long in the +sleeve. The bottom of the overalls I can turn up inside. Now pay +attention." + +Eustacia then proceeded in her delivery, striking the sword against +the staff or lance at the minatory phrases, in the orthodox mumming +manner, and strutting up and down. Charley seasoned his admiration +with criticism of the gentlest kind, for the touch of Eustacia's hand +yet remained with him. + +"And now for your excuse to the others," she said. "Where do you meet +before you go to Mrs. Yeobright's?" + +"We thought of meeting here, miss, if you have nothing to say against +it. At eight o'clock, so as to get there by nine." + +"Yes. Well, you of course must not appear. I will march in about five +minutes late, ready-dressed, and tell them that you can't come. I +have decided that the best plan will be for you to be sent somewhere +by me, to make a real thing of the excuse. Our two heath-croppers are +in the habit of straying into the meads, and tomorrow evening you can +go and see if they are gone there. I'll manage the rest. Now you may +leave me." + +"Yes, miss. But I think I'll have one minute more of what I am owed, +if you don't mind." + +Eustacia gave him her hand as before. + +"One minute," she said, and counted on till she reached seven or eight +minutes. Hand and person she then withdrew to a distance of several +feet, and recovered some of her old dignity. The contract completed, +she raised between them a barrier impenetrable as a wall. + +"There, 'tis all gone; and I didn't mean quite all," he said, with a +sigh. + +"You had good measure," said she, turning away. + +"Yes, miss. Well, 'tis over, and now I'll get home-along." + + + + +V + +Through the Moonlight + + +The next evening the mummers were assembled in the same spot, awaiting +the entrance of the Turkish Knight. + +"Twenty minutes after eight by the Quiet Woman, and Charley not come." + +"Ten minutes past by Blooms-End." + +"It wants ten minutes to, by Grandfer Cantle's watch." + +"And 'tis five minutes past by the captain's clock." + +On Egdon there was no absolute hour of the day. The time at any +moment was a number of varying doctrines professed by the different +hamlets, some of them having originally grown up from a common root, +and then become divided by secession, some having been alien from the +beginning. West Egdon believed in Blooms-End time, East Egdon in the +time of the Quiet Woman Inn. Grandfer Cantle's watch had numbered +many followers in years gone by, but since he had grown older faiths +were shaken. Thus, the mummers having gathered hither from scattered +points each came with his own tenets on early and late; and they +waited a little longer as a compromise. + +Eustacia had watched the assemblage through the hole; and seeing that +now was the proper moment to enter, she went from the "linhay" and +boldly pulled the bobbin of the fuel-house door. Her grandfather was +safe at the Quiet Woman. + +"Here's Charley at last! How late you be, Charley." + +"'Tis not Charley," said the Turkish Knight from within his visor. +"'Tis a cousin of Miss Vye's, come to take Charley's place from +curiosity. He was obliged to go and look for the heath-croppers that +have got into the meads, and I agreed to take his place, as he knew he +couldn't come back here again tonight. I know the part as well as he." + +Her graceful gait, elegant figure, and dignified manner in general won +the mummers to the opinion that they had gained by the exchange, if +the newcomer were perfect in his part. + +"It don't matter--if you be not too young," said Saint George. +Eustacia's voice had sounded somewhat more juvenile and fluty than +Charley's. + +"I know every word of it, I tell you," said Eustacia decisively. Dash +being all that was required to carry her triumphantly through, she +adopted as much as was necessary. "Go ahead, lads, with the try-over. +I'll challenge any of you to find a mistake in me." + +The play was hastily rehearsed, whereupon the other mummers were +delighted with the new knight. They extinguished the candles at +half-past eight, and set out upon the heath in the direction of Mrs. +Yeobright's house at Bloom's-End. + +There was a slight hoar-frost that night, and the moon, though not +more than half full, threw a spirited and enticing brightness upon +the fantastic figures of the mumming band, whose plumes and ribbons +rustled in their walk like autumn leaves. Their path was not over +Rainbarrow now, but down a valley which left that ancient elevation +a little to the east. The bottom of the vale was green to a width of +ten yards or thereabouts, and the shining facets of frost upon the +blades of grass seemed to move on with the shadows of those they +surrounded. The masses of furze and heath to the right and left were +dark as ever; a mere half-moon was powerless to silver such sable +features as theirs. + +Half-an-hour of walking and talking brought them to the spot in the +valley where the grass riband widened and led down to the front of +the house. At sight of the place Eustacia, who had felt a few passing +doubts during her walk with the youths, again was glad that the +adventure had been undertaken. She had come out to see a man who +might possibly have the power to deliver her soul from a most deadly +oppression. What was Wildeve? Interesting, but inadequate. Perhaps +she would see a sufficient hero tonight. + +As they drew nearer to the front of the house the mummers became aware +that music and dancing were briskly flourishing within. Every now +and then a long low note from the serpent, which was the chief wind +instrument played at these times, advanced further into the heath than +the thin treble part, and reached their ears alone; and next a more +than usually loud tread from a dancer would come the same way. With +nearer approach these fragmentary sounds became pieced together, +and were found to be the salient points of the tune called "Nancy's +Fancy." + +He was there, of course. Who was she that he danced with? Perhaps +some unknown woman, far beneath herself in culture, was by that most +subtle of lures sealing his fate this very instant. To dance with a +man is to concentrate a twelve-month's regulation fire upon him in the +fragment of an hour. To pass to courtship without acquaintance, to +pass to marriage without courtship, is a skipping of terms reserved +for those alone who tread this royal road. She would see how his heart +lay by keen observation of them all. + +The enterprising lady followed the mumming company through the gate +in the white paling, and stood before the open porch. The house was +encrusted with heavy thatchings, which dropped between the upper +windows; the front, upon which the moonbeams directly played, had +originally been white; but a huge pyracanth now darkened the greater +portion. + +It became at once evident that the dance was proceeding immediately +within the surface of the door, no apartment intervening. The brushing +of skirts and elbows, sometimes the bumping of shoulders, could be +heard against the very panels. Eustacia, though living within two +miles of the place, had never seen the interior of this quaint old +habitation. Between Captain Vye and the Yeobrights there had never +existed much acquaintance, the former having come as a stranger and +purchased the long-empty house at Mistover Knap not long before +the death of Mrs. Yeobright's husband; and with that event and the +departure of her son such friendship as had grown up became quite +broken off. + +"Is there no passage inside the door, then?" asked Eustacia as they +stood within the porch. + +"No," said the lad who played the Saracen. "The door opens right upon +the front sitting-room, where the spree's going on." + +"So that we cannot open the door without stopping the dance." + +"That's it. Here we must bide till they have done, for they always +bolt the back door after dark." + +"They won't be much longer," said Father Christmas. + +This assertion, however, was hardly borne out by the event. Again the +instruments ended the tune; again they recommenced with as much fire +and pathos as if it were the first strain. The air was now that one +without any particular beginning, middle, or end, which perhaps, among +all the dances which throng an inspired fiddler's fancy, best conveys +the idea of the interminable--the celebrated "Devil's Dream." The +fury of personal movement that was kindled by the fury of the notes +could be approximately imagined by these outsiders under the moon, +from the occasional kicks of toes and heels against the door, whenever +the whirl round had been of more than customary velocity. + +The first five minutes of listening was interesting enough to the +mummers. The five minutes extended to ten minutes, and these to a +quarter of an hour; but no signs of ceasing were audible in the lively +Dream. The bumping against the door, the laughter, the stamping, were +all as vigorous as ever, and the pleasure in being outside lessened +considerably. + +"Why does Mrs. Yeobright give parties of this sort?" Eustacia asked, +a little surprised to hear merriment so pronounced. + +"It is not one of her bettermost parlour-parties. She's asked the +plain neighbours and workpeople without drawing any lines, just to +give 'em a good supper and such like. Her son and she wait upon the +folks." + +"I see," said Eustacia. + +"'Tis the last strain, I think," said Saint George, with his ear to +the panel. "A young man and woman have just swung into this corner, +and he's saying to her, 'Ah, the pity; 'tis over for us this time, my +own.'" + +"Thank God!" said the Turkish Knight, stamping, and taking from the +wall the conventional lance that each of the mummers carried. Her +boots being thinner than those of the young men, the hoar had damped +her feet and made them cold. + +"Upon my song 'tis another ten minutes for us," said the Valiant +Soldier, looking through the keyhole as the tune modulated into +another without stopping. "Grandfer Cantle is standing in this +corner, waiting his turn." + +"'Twon't be long; 'tis a six-handed reel," said the Doctor. + +"Why not go in, dancing or no? They sent for us," said the Saracen. + +"Certainly not," said Eustacia authoritatively, as she paced smartly +up and down from door to gate to warm herself. "We should burst into +the middle of them and stop the dance, and that would be unmannerly." + +"He thinks himself somebody because he has had a bit more schooling +than we," said the Doctor. + +"You may go to the deuce!" said Eustacia. + +There was a whispered conversation between three or four of them, and +one turned to her. + +"Will you tell us one thing?" he said, not without gentleness. "Be +you Miss Vye? We think you must be." + +"You may think what you like," said Eustacia slowly. "But honourable +lads will not tell tales upon a lady." + +"We'll say nothing, miss. That's upon our honour." + +"Thank you," she replied. + +At this moment the fiddles finished off with a screech, and the +serpent emitted a last note that nearly lifted the roof. When, from +the comparative quiet within, the mummers judged that the dancers had +taken their seats, Father Christmas advanced, lifted the latch, and +put his head inside the door. + +"Ah, the mummers, the mummers!" cried several guests at once. "Clear +a space for the mummers." + +Hump-backed Father Christmas then made a complete entry, swinging his +huge club, and in a general way clearing the stage for the actors +proper, while he informed the company in smart verse that he was come, +welcome or welcome not; concluding his speech with + + + "Make room, make room, my gallant boys, + And give us space to rhyme; + We've come to show Saint George's play, + Upon this Christmas time." + + +The guests were now arranging themselves at one end of the room, the +fiddler was mending a string, the serpent-player was emptying his +mouthpiece, and the play began. First of those outside the Valiant +Soldier entered, in the interest of Saint George-- + + + "Here come I, the Valiant Soldier; + Slasher is my name;" + + +and so on. This speech concluded with a challenge to the infidel, +at the end of which it was Eustacia's duty to enter as the Turkish +Knight. She, with the rest who were not yet on, had hitherto remained +in the moonlight which streamed under the porch. With no apparent +effort or backwardness she came in, beginning-- + + + "Here come I, a Turkish Knight, + Who learnt in Turkish land to fight; + I'll fight this man with courage bold: + If his blood's hot I'll make it cold!" + + +During her declamation Eustacia held her head erect, and spoke as +roughly as she could, feeling pretty secure from observation. But +the concentration upon her part necessary to prevent discovery, the +newness of the scene, the shine of the candles, and the confusing +effect upon her vision of the ribboned visor which hid her features, +left her absolutely unable to perceive who were present as spectators. +On the further side of a table bearing candles she could faintly +discern faces, and that was all. + +Meanwhile Jim Starks as the Valiant Soldier had come forward, and, +with a glare upon the Turk, replied-- + + + "If, then, thou art that Turkish Knight, + Draw out thy sword, and let us fight!" + + +And fight they did; the issue of the combat being that the Valiant +Soldier was slain by a preternaturally inadequate thrust from +Eustacia, Jim, in his ardour for genuine histrionic art, coming down +like a log upon the stone floor with force enough to dislocate his +shoulder. Then, after more words from the Turkish Knight, rather too +faintly delivered, and statements that he'd fight Saint George and +all his crew, Saint George himself magnificently entered with the +well-known flourish-- + + + "Here come I, Saint George, the valiant man, + With naked sword and spear in hand, + Who fought the dragon and brought him to the slaughter, + And by this won fair Sabra, the King of Egypt's daughter; + What mortal man would dare to stand + Before me with my sword in hand?" + + +This was the lad who had first recognized Eustacia; and when she now, +as the Turk, replied with suitable defiance, and at once began the +combat, the young fellow took especial care to use his sword as gently +as possible. Being wounded, the Knight fell upon one knee, according +to the direction. The Doctor now entered, restored the Knight by +giving him a draught from the bottle which he carried, and the +fight was again resumed, the Turk sinking by degrees until quite +overcome--dying as hard in this venerable drama as he is said to do at +the present day. + +This gradual sinking to the earth was, in fact, one reason why +Eustacia had thought that the part of the Turkish Knight, though not +the shortest, would suit her best. A direct fall from upright to +horizontal, which was the end of the other fighting characters, was +not an elegant or decorous part for a girl. But it was easy to die +like a Turk, by a dogged decline. + +Eustacia was now among the number of the slain, though not on the +floor, for she had managed to sink into a sloping position against the +clock-case, so that her head was well elevated. The play proceeded +between Saint George, the Saracen, the Doctor, and Father Christmas; +and Eustacia, having no more to do, for the first time found leisure +to observe the scene round, and to search for the form that had drawn +her hither. + + + + +VI + +The Two Stand Face to Face + + +The room had been arranged with a view to the dancing, the large +oak table having been moved back till it stood as a breastwork to +the fireplace. At each end, behind, and in the chimney-corner were +grouped the guests, many of them being warm-faced and panting, among +whom Eustacia cursorily recognized some well-to-do persons from +beyond the heath. Thomasin, as she had expected, was not visible, and +Eustacia recollected that a light had shone from an upper window when +they were outside--the window, probably, of Thomasin's room. A nose, +chin, hands, knees, and toes projected from the seat within the +chimney opening, which members she found to unite in the person of +Grandfer Cantle, Mrs. Yeobright's occasional assistant in the garden, +and therefore one of the invited. The smoke went up from an Etna of +peat in front of him, played round the notches of the chimney-crook, +struck against the saltbox, and got lost among the flitches. + +Another part of the room soon riveted her gaze. At the other side of +the chimney stood the settle, which is the necessary supplement to a +fire so open that nothing less than a strong breeze will carry up the +smoke. It is, to the hearths of old-fashioned cavernous fireplaces, +what the east belt of trees is to the exposed country estate, or the +north wall to the garden. Outside the settle candles gutter, locks +of hair wave, young women shiver, and old men sneeze. Inside is +Paradise. Not a symptom of a draught disturbs the air; the sitters' +backs are as warm as their faces, and songs and old tales are drawn +from the occupants by the comfortable heat, like fruit from melon +plants in a frame. + +It was, however, not with those who sat in the settle that Eustacia +was concerned. A face showed itself with marked distinctness against +the dark-tanned wood of the upper part. The owner, who was leaning +against the settle's outer end, was Clement Yeobright, or Clym, as +he was called here; she knew it could be nobody else. The spectacle +constituted an area of two feet in Rembrandt's intensest manner. A +strange power in the lounger's appearance lay in the fact that, though +his whole figure was visible, the observer's eye was only aware of his +face. + +To one of middle age the countenance was that of a young man, though a +youth might hardly have seen any necessity for the term of immaturity. +But it was really one of those faces which convey less the idea of so +many years as its age than of so much experience as its store. The +number of their years may have adequately summed up Jared, Mahalaleel, +and the rest of the antediluvians, but the age of a modern man is to +be measured by the intensity of his history. + +The face was well shaped, even excellently. But the mind within was +beginning to use it as a mere waste tablet whereon to trace its +idiosyncrasies as they developed themselves. The beauty here visible +would in no long time be ruthlessly over-run by its parasite, thought, +which might just as well have fed upon a plainer exterior where there +was nothing it could harm. Had Heaven preserved Yeobright from a +wearing habit of meditation, people would have said, "A handsome man." +Had his brain unfolded under sharper contours they would have said, "A +thoughtful man." But an inner strenuousness was preying upon an outer +symmetry, and they rated his look as singular. + +Hence people who began by beholding him ended by perusing him. +His countenance was overlaid with legible meanings. Without being +thought-worn he yet had certain marks derived from a perception of his +surroundings, such as are not unfrequently found on men at the end of +the four or five years of endeavour which follow the close of placid +pupilage. He already showed that thought is a disease of flesh, and +indirectly bore evidence that ideal physical beauty is incompatible +with emotional development and a full recognition of the coil of +things. Mental luminousness must be fed with the oil of life, even +though there is already a physical need for it; and the pitiful sight +of two demands on one supply was just showing itself here. + +When standing before certain men the philosopher regrets that thinkers +are but perishable tissue, the artist that perishable tissue has to +think. Thus to deplore, each from his point of view, the mutually +destructive interdependence of spirit and flesh would have been +instinctive with these in critically observing Yeobright. + +As for his look, it was a natural cheerfulness striving against +depression from without, and not quite succeeding. The look suggested +isolation, but it revealed something more. As is usual with bright +natures, the deity that lies ignominiously chained within an ephemeral +human carcase shone out of him like a ray. + +The effect upon Eustacia was palpable. The extraordinary pitch of +excitement that she had reached beforehand would, indeed, have caused +her to be influenced by the most commonplace man. She was troubled at +Yeobright's presence. + +The remainder of the play ended: the Saracen's head was cut off, and +Saint George stood as victor. Nobody commented, any more than they +would have commented on the fact of mushrooms coming in autumn or +snowdrops in spring. They took the piece as phlegmatically as did the +actors themselves. It was a phase of cheerfulness which was, as a +matter of course, to be passed through every Christmas; and there was +no more to be said. + +They sang the plaintive chant which follows the play, during which all +the dead men rise to their feet in a silent and awful manner, like +the ghosts of Napoleon's soldiers in the Midnight Review. Afterwards +the door opened, and Fairway appeared on the threshold, accompanied +by Christian and another. They had been waiting outside for the +conclusion of the play, as the players had waited for the conclusion +of the dance. + +"Come in, come in," said Mrs. Yeobright; and Clym went forward to +welcome them. "How is it you are so late? Grandfer Cantle has been +here ever so long, and we thought you'd have come with him, as you +live so near one another." + +"Well, I should have come earlier," Mr. Fairway said, and paused to +look along the beam of the ceiling for a nail to hang his hat on; but, +finding his accustomed one to be occupied by the mistletoe, and all +the nails in the walls to be burdened with bunches of holly, he at +last relieved himself of the hat by ticklishly balancing it between +the candlebox and the head of the clock-case. "I should have come +earlier, ma'am," he resumed, with a more composed air, "but I know +what parties be, and how there's none too much room in folks' houses +at such times, so I thought I wouldn't come till you'd got settled a +bit." + +"And I thought so too, Mrs. Yeobright," said Christian earnestly, "but +father there was so eager that he had no manners at all, and left home +almost afore 'twas dark. I told him 'twas barely decent in a' old man +to come so oversoon; but words be wind." + +"Klk! I wasn't going to bide waiting about, till half the game was +over! I'm as light as a kite when anything's going on!" crowed +Grandfer Cantle from the chimney-seat. + +Fairway had meanwhile concluded a critical gaze at Yeobright. "Now, +you may not believe it," he said to the rest of the room, "but I +should never have knowed this gentleman if I had met him anywhere off +his own he'th--he's altered so much." + +"You too have altered, and for the better, I think Timothy," said +Yeobright, surveying the firm figure of Fairway. + +"Master Yeobright, look me over too. I have altered for the better, +haven't I, hey?" said Grandfer Cantle, rising and placing himself +something above half a foot from Clym's eye, to induce the most +searching criticism. + +"To be sure we will," said Fairway, taking the candle and moving it +over the surface of the Grandfer's countenance, the subject of his +scrutiny irradiating himself with light and pleasant smiles, and +giving himself jerks of juvenility. + +"You haven't changed much," said Yeobright. + +"If there's any difference, Grandfer is younger," appended Fairway +decisively. + +"And yet not my own doing, and I feel no pride in it," said the +pleased ancient. "But I can't be cured of my vagaries; them I plead +guilty to. Yes, Master Cantle always was that, as we know. But I am +nothing by the side of you, Mister Clym." + +"Nor any o' us," said Humphrey, in a low rich tone of admiration, not +intended to reach anybody's ears. + +"Really, there would have been nobody here who could have stood as +decent second to him, or even third, if I hadn't been a soldier in the +Bang-up Locals (as we was called for our smartness)," said Grandfer +Cantle. "And even as 'tis we all look a little scammish beside him. +But in the year four 'twas said there wasn't a finer figure in +the whole South Wessex than I, as I looked when dashing past the +shop-winders with the rest of our company on the day we ran out o' +Budmouth because it was thoughted that Boney had landed round the +point. There was I, straight as a young poplar, wi' my firelock, and +my bag-net, and my spatter-dashes, and my stock sawing my jaws off, +and my accoutrements sheening like the seven stars! Yes, neighbours, +I was a pretty sight in my soldiering days. You ought to have seen me +in four!" + +"'Tis his mother's side where Master Clym's figure comes from, bless +ye," said Timothy. "I know'd her brothers well. Longer coffins were +never made in the whole country of South Wessex, and 'tis said that +poor George's knees were crumpled up a little e'en as 'twas." + +"Coffins, where?" inquired Christian, drawing nearer. "Have the ghost +of one appeared to anybody, Master Fairway?" + +"No, no. Don't let your mind so mislead your ears, Christian; and be +a man," said Timothy reproachfully. + +"I will." said Christian. "But now I think o't my shadder last night +seemed just the shape of a coffin. What is it a sign of when your +shade's like a coffin, neighbours? It can't be nothing to be afeared +of, I suppose?" + +"Afeared, no!" said the Grandfer. "Faith, I was never afeard of +nothing except Boney, or I shouldn't ha' been the soldier I was. Yes, +'tis a thousand pities you didn't see me in four!" + +By this time the mummers were preparing to leave; but Mrs. Yeobright +stopped them by asking them to sit down and have a little supper. To +this invitation Father Christmas, in the name of them all, readily +agreed. + +Eustacia was happy in the opportunity of staying a little longer. +The cold and frosty night without was doubly frigid to her. But the +lingering was not without its difficulties. Mrs. Yeobright, for want +of room in the larger apartment, placed a bench for the mummers +half-way through the pantry door, which opened from the sitting-room. +Here they seated themselves in a row, the door being left open: thus +they were still virtually in the same apartment. Mrs. Yeobright +now murmured a few words to her son, who crossed the room to the +pantry-door, striking his head against the mistletoe as he passed, and +brought the mummers beef and bread, cake pastry, mead, and elder-wine, +the waiting being done by him and his mother, that the little +maid-servant might sit as guest. The mummers doffed their helmets, +and began to eat and drink. + +"But you will surely have some?" said Clym to the Turkish Knight, +as he stood before that warrior, tray in hand. She had refused, and +still sat covered, only the sparkle of her eyes being visible between +the ribbons which covered her face. + +"None, thank you," replied Eustacia. + +"He's quite a youngster," said the Saracen apologetically, "and you +must excuse him. He's not one of the old set, but have jined us +because t'other couldn't come." + +"But he will take something?" persisted Yeobright. "Try a glass of +mead or elder-wine." + +"Yes, you had better try that," said the Saracen. "It will keep the +cold out going home-along." + +Though Eustacia could not eat without uncovering her face she +could drink easily enough beneath her disguise. The elder-wine was +accordingly accepted, and the glass vanished inside the ribbons. + +At moments during this performance Eustacia was half in doubt about +the security of her position; yet it had a fearful joy. A series of +attentions paid to her, and yet not to her but to some imaginary +person, by the first man she had ever been inclined to adore, +complicated her emotions indescribably. She had loved him partly +because he was exceptional in this scene, partly because she had +determined to love him, chiefly because she was in desperate need of +loving somebody after wearying of Wildeve. Believing that she must +love him in spite of herself, she had been influenced after the +fashion of the second Lord Lyttleton and other persons, who have +dreamed that they were to die on a certain day, and by stress of a +morbid imagination have actually brought about that event. Once let +a maiden admit the possibility of her being stricken with love for +some one at a certain hour and place, and the thing is as good as +done. + +Did anything at this moment suggest to Yeobright the sex of the +creature whom that fantastic guise inclosed, how extended was her +scope both in feeling and in making others feel, and how far her +compass transcended that of her companions in the band? When the +disguised Queen of Love appeared before Aeneas a preternatural +perfume accompanied her presence and betrayed her quality. If such a +mysterious emanation ever was projected by the emotions of an earthly +woman upon their object, it must have signified Eustacia's presence to +Yeobright now. He looked at her wistfully, then seemed to fall into +a reverie, as if he were forgetting what he observed. The momentary +situation ended, he passed on, and Eustacia sipped her wine without +knowing what she drank. The man for whom she had predetermined to +nourish a passion went into the small room, and across it to the +further extremity. + +The mummers, as has been stated, were seated on a bench, one end of +which extended into the small apartment, or pantry, for want of space +in the outer room. Eustacia, partly from shyness, had chosen the +midmost seat, which thus commanded a view of the interior of the +pantry as well as the room containing the guests. When Clym passed +down the pantry her eyes followed him in the gloom which prevailed +there. At the remote end was a door which, just as he was about to +open it for himself, was opened by somebody within; and light streamed +forth. + +The person was Thomasin, with a candle, looking anxious, pale, and +interesting. Yeobright appeared glad to see her, and pressed her +hand. "That's right, Tamsie," he said heartily, as though recalled +to himself by the sight of her, "you have decided to come down. I am +glad of it." + +"Hush--no, no," she said quickly. "I only came to speak to you." + +"But why not join us?" + +"I cannot. At least I would rather not. I am not well enough, and we +shall have plenty of time together now you are going to be home a good +long holiday." + +"It isn't nearly so pleasant without you. Are you really ill?" + +"Just a little, my old cousin--here," she said, playfully sweeping her +hand across her heart. + +"Ah, mother should have asked somebody else to be present tonight, +perhaps?" + +"O no, indeed. I merely stepped down, Clym, to ask you--" Here he +followed her through the doorway into the private room beyond, and, +the door closing, Eustacia and the mummer who sat next to her, the +only other witness of the performance, saw and heard no more. + +The heat flew to Eustacia's head and cheeks. She instantly guessed +that Clym, having been home only these two or three days, had not as +yet been made acquainted with Thomasin's painful situation with regard +to Wildeve; and seeing her living there just as she had been living +before he left home, he naturally suspected nothing. Eustacia felt +a wild jealousy of Thomasin on the instant. Though Thomasin might +possibly have tender sentiments towards another man as yet, how long +could they be expected to last when she was shut up here with this +interesting and travelled cousin of hers? There was no knowing what +affection might not soon break out between the two, so constantly +in each other's society, and not a distracting object near. Clym's +boyish love for her might have languished, but it might easily be +revived again. + +Eustacia was nettled by her own contrivances. What a sheer waste of +herself to be dressed thus while another was shining to advantage! Had +she known the full effect of the encounter she would have moved heaven +and earth to get here in a natural manner. The power of her face all +lost, the charm of her emotions all disguised, the fascinations of her +coquetry denied existence, nothing but a voice left to her; she had a +sense of the doom of Echo. "Nobody here respects me," she said. She +had overlooked the fact that, in coming as a boy among other boys, she +would be treated as a boy. The slight, though of her own causing, and +self-explanatory, she was unable to dismiss as unwittingly shown, so +sensitive had the situation made her. + +Women have done much for themselves in histrionic dress. To look far +below those who, like a certain fair personator of Polly Peachum early +in the last century, and another of Lydia Languish early in this, have +won not only love but ducal coronets into the bargain, whole shoals of +them have reached to the initial satisfaction of getting love almost +whence they would. But the Turkish Knight was denied even the chance +of achieving this by the fluttering ribbons which she dared not brush +aside. + +Yeobright returned to the room without his cousin. When within two or +three feet of Eustacia he stopped, as if again arrested by a thought. +He was gazing at her. She looked another way, disconcerted, and +wondered how long this purgatory was to last. After lingering a few +seconds he passed on again. + +To court their own discomfiture by love is a common instinct with +certain perfervid women. Conflicting sensations of love, fear, and +shame reduced Eustacia to a state of the utmost uneasiness. To escape +was her great and immediate desire. The other mummers appeared to be +in no hurry to leave; and murmuring to the lad who sat next to her +that she preferred waiting for them outside the house, she moved to +the door as imperceptibly as possible, opened it, and slipped out. + +The calm, lone scene reassured her. She went forward to the palings +and leant over them, looking at the moon. She had stood thus but a +little time when the door again opened. Expecting to see the remainder +of the band Eustacia turned; but no--Clym Yeobright came out as softly +as she had done, and closed the door behind him. + +He advanced and stood beside her. "I have an odd opinion," he said, +"and should like to ask you a question. Are you a woman--or am I +wrong?" + +"I am a woman." + +His eyes lingered on her with great interest. "Do girls often play as +mummers now? They never used to." + +"They don't now." + +"Why did you?" + +"To get excitement and shake off depression," she said in low tones. + +"What depressed you?" + +"Life." + +"That's a cause of depression a good many have to put up with." + +"Yes." + +A long silence. "And do you find excitement?" asked Clym at last. + +"At this moment, perhaps." + +"Then you are vexed at being discovered?" + +"Yes; though I thought I might be." + +"I would gladly have asked you to our party had I known you wished to +come. Have I ever been acquainted with you in my youth?" + +"Never." + +"Won't you come in again, and stay as long as you like?" + +"No. I wish not to be further recognized." + +"Well, you are safe with me." After remaining in thought a minute he +added gently, "I will not intrude upon you longer. It is a strange +way of meeting, and I will not ask why I find a cultivated woman +playing such a part as this." + +She did not volunteer the reason which he seemed to hope for, and +he wished her good night, going thence round to the back of the +house, where he walked up and down by himself for some time before +re-entering. + +Eustacia, warmed with an inner fire, could not wait for her companions +after this. She flung back the ribbons from her face, opened the +gate, and at once struck into the heath. She did not hasten along. +Her grandfather was in bed at this hour, for she so frequently walked +upon the hills on moonlight nights that he took no notice of her +comings and goings, and, enjoying himself in his own way, left her to +do likewise. A more important subject than that of getting indoors +now engrossed her. Yeobright, if he had the least curiosity, would +infallibly discover her name. What then? She first felt a sort of +exultation at the way in which the adventure had terminated, even +though at moments between her exultations she was abashed and +blushful. Then this consideration recurred to chill her: What was +the use of her exploit? She was at present a total stranger to the +Yeobright family. The unreasonable nimbus of romance with which she +had encircled that man might be her misery. How could she allow +herself to become so infatuated with a stranger? And to fill the +cup of her sorrow there would be Thomasin, living day after day in +inflammable proximity to him; for she had just learnt that, contrary +to her first belief, he was going to stay at home some considerable +time. + + + +She reached the wicket at Mistover Knap, but before opening it she +turned and faced the heath once more. The form of Rainbarrow stood +above the hills, and the moon stood above Rainbarrow. The air was +charged with silence and frost. The scene reminded Eustacia of a +circumstance which till that moment she had totally forgotten. She +had promised to meet Wildeve by the Barrow this very night at eight, +to give a final answer to his pleading for an elopement. + +She herself had fixed the evening and the hour. He had probably come +to the spot, waited there in the cold, and been greatly disappointed. + +"Well, so much the better: it did not hurt him," she said serenely. +Wildeve had at present the rayless outline of the sun through smoked +glass, and she could say such things as that with the greatest +facility. + +She remained deeply pondering; and Thomasin's winning manner towards +her cousin arose again upon Eustacia's mind. + +"O that she had been married to Damon before this!" she said. "And +she would if it hadn't been for me! If I had only known--if I had only +known!" + +Eustacia once more lifted her deep stormy eyes to the moonlight, and, +sighing that tragic sigh of hers which was so much like a shudder, +entered the shadow of the roof. She threw off her trappings in the +out-house, rolled them up, and went indoors to her chamber. + + + + +VII + +A Coalition between Beauty and Oddness + + +The old captain's prevailing indifference to his granddaughter's +movements left her free as a bird to follow her own courses; but it so +happened that he did take upon himself the next morning to ask her why +she had walked out so late. + +"Only in search of events, grandfather," she said, looking out of the +window with that drowsy latency of manner which discovered so much +force behind it whenever the trigger was pressed. + +"Search of events--one would think you were one of the bucks I knew at +one-and-twenty." + +"It is so lonely here." + +"So much the better. If I were living in a town my whole time would +be taken up in looking after you. I fully expected you would have +been home when I returned from the Woman." + +"I won't conceal what I did. I wanted an adventure, and I went with +the mummers. I played the part of the Turkish Knight." + +"No, never? Ha, ha! Good gad! I didn't expect it of you, Eustacia." + +"It was my first performance, and it certainly will be my last. Now I +have told you--and remember it is a secret." + +"Of course. But, Eustacia, you never did--ha! ha! Dammy, how 'twould +have pleased me forty years ago! But remember, no more of it, my girl. +You may walk on the heath night or day, as you choose, so that you +don't bother me; but no figuring in breeches again." + +"You need have no fear for me, grandpapa." + +Here the conversation ceased, Eustacia's moral training never +exceeding in severity a dialogue of this sort, which, if it ever +became profitable to good works, would be a result not dear at the +price. But her thoughts soon strayed far from her own personality; +and, full of a passionate and indescribable solicitude for one to whom +she was not even a name, she went forth into the amplitude of tanned +wild around her, restless as Ahasuerus the Jew. She was about half a +mile from her residence when she beheld a sinister redness arising +from a ravine a little way in advance--dull and lurid like a flame in +sunlight and she guessed it to signify Diggory Venn. + +When the farmers who had wished to buy in a new stock of reddle +during the last month had inquired where Venn was to be found, people +replied, "On Egdon Heath." Day after day the answer was the same. +Now, since Egdon was populated with heath-croppers and furze-cutters +rather than with sheep and shepherds, and the downs where most of the +latter were to be found lay some to the north, some to the west of +Egdon, his reason for camping about there like Israel in Zin was not +apparent. The position was central and occasionally desirable. But +the sale of reddle was not Diggory's primary object in remaining on +the heath, particularly at so late a period of the year, when most +travellers of his class had gone into winter quarters. + +Eustacia looked at the lonely man. Wildeve had told her at their last +meeting that Venn had been thrust forward by Mrs. Yeobright as one +ready and anxious to take his place as Thomasin's betrothed. His +figure was perfect, his face young and well outlined, his eyes bright, +his intelligence keen, and his position one which he could readily +better if he chose. But in spite of possibilities it was not likely +that Thomasin would accept this Ishmaelitish creature while she had a +cousin like Yeobright at her elbow, and Wildeve at the same time not +absolutely indifferent. Eustacia was not long in guessing that poor +Mrs. Yeobright, in her anxiety for her niece's future, had mentioned +this lover to stimulate the zeal of the other. Eustacia was on the +side of the Yeobrights now, and entered into the spirit of the aunt's +desire. + +"Good morning, miss," said the reddleman, taking off his cap of +hareskin, and apparently bearing her no ill-will from recollection of +their last meeting. + +"Good morning, reddleman," she said, hardly troubling to lift her +heavily shaded eyes to his. "I did not know you were so near. Is +your van here too?" + +Venn moved his elbow towards a hollow in which a dense brake of +purple-stemmed brambles had grown to such vast dimensions as almost +to form a dell. Brambles, though churlish when handled, are kindly +shelter in early winter, being the latest of the deciduous bushes +to lose their leaves. The roof and chimney of Venn's caravan showed +behind the tracery and tangles of the brake. + +"You remain near this part?" she asked with more interest. + +"Yes, I have business here." + +"Not altogether the selling of reddle?" + +"It has nothing to do with that." + +"It has to do with Miss Yeobright?" + +Her face seemed to ask for an armed peace, and he therefore said +frankly, "Yes, miss; it is on account of her." + +"On account of your approaching marriage with her?" + +Venn flushed through his stain. "Don't make sport of me, Miss Vye," +he said. + +"It isn't true?" + +"Certainly not." + +She was thus convinced that the reddleman was a mere _pis aller_ in +Mrs. Yeobright's mind; one, moreover, who had not even been informed +of his promotion to that lowly standing. "It was a mere notion of +mine," she said quietly; and was about to pass by without further +speech, when, looking round to the right, she saw a painfully +well-known figure serpentining upwards by one of the little paths +which led to the top where she stood. Owing to the necessary windings +of his course his back was at present towards them. She glanced +quickly round; to escape that man there was only one way. Turning to +Venn, she said, "Would you allow me to rest a few minutes in your van? +The banks are damp for sitting on." + +"Certainly, miss; I'll make a place for you." + +She followed him behind the dell of brambles to his wheeled dwelling, +into which Venn mounted, placing the three-legged stool just within +the door. + +"That is the best I can do for you," he said, stepping down and +retiring to the path, where he resumed the smoking of his pipe as he +walked up and down. + +Eustacia bounded into the vehicle and sat on the stool, ensconced from +view on the side towards the trackway. Soon she heard the brushing +of other feet than the reddleman's, a not very friendly "Good day" +uttered by two men in passing each other, and then the dwindling +of the footfall of one of them in a direction onwards. Eustacia +stretched her neck forward till she caught a glimpse of a receding +back and shoulders; and she felt a wretched twinge of misery, she knew +not why. It was the sickening feeling which, if the changed heart has +any generosity at all in its composition, accompanies the sudden sight +of a once-loved one who is beloved no more. + +When Eustacia descended to proceed on her way the reddleman came near. +"That was Mr. Wildeve who passed, miss," he said slowly, and expressed +by his face that he expected her to feel vexed at having been sitting +unseen. + +"Yes, I saw him coming up the hill," replied Eustacia. "Why should you +tell me that?" It was a bold question, considering the reddleman's +knowledge of her past love; but her undemonstrative manner had power +to repress the opinions of those she treated as remote from her. + +"I am glad to hear that you can ask it," said the reddleman bluntly. +"And, now I think of it, it agrees with what I saw last night." + +"Ah--what was that?" Eustacia wished to leave him, but wished to know. + +"Mr. Wildeve stayed at Rainbarrow a long time waiting for a lady who +didn't come." + +"You waited too, it seems?" + +"Yes, I always do. I was glad to see him disappointed. He will be +there again tonight." + +"To be again disappointed. The truth is, reddleman, that that lady, +so far from wishing to stand in the way of Thomasin's marriage with +Mr. Wildeve, would be very glad to promote it." + +Venn felt much astonishment at this avowal, though he did not show it +clearly; that exhibition may greet remarks which are one remove from +expectation, but it is usually withheld in complicated cases of two +removes and upwards. "Indeed, miss," he replied. + +"How do you know that Mr. Wildeve will come to Rainbarrow again +tonight?" she asked. + +"I heard him say to himself that he would. He's in a regular temper." + +Eustacia looked for a moment what she felt, and she murmured, lifting +her deep dark eyes anxiously to his, "I wish I knew what to do. I +don't want to be uncivil to him; but I don't wish to see him again; +and I have some few little things to return to him." + +"If you choose to send 'em by me, miss, and a note to tell him that +you wish to say no more to him, I'll take it for you quite privately. +That would be the most straightforward way of letting him know your +mind." + +"Very well," said Eustacia. "Come towards my house, and I will bring +it out to you." + +She went on, and as the path was an infinitely small parting in the +shaggy locks of the heath, the reddleman followed exactly in her +trail. She saw from a distance that the captain was on the bank +sweeping the horizon with his telescope; and bidding Venn to wait +where he stood she entered the house alone. + +In ten minutes she returned with a parcel and a note, and said, in +placing them in his hand, "Why are you so ready to take these for me?" + +"Can you ask that?" + +"I suppose you think to serve Thomasin in some way by it. Are you as +anxious as ever to help on her marriage?" + +Venn was a little moved. "I would sooner have married her myself," he +said in a low voice. "But what I feel is that if she cannot be happy +without him I will do my duty in helping her to get him, as a man +ought." + +Eustacia looked curiously at the singular man who spoke thus. What +a strange sort of love, to be entirely free from that quality of +selfishness which is frequently the chief constituent of the passion, +and sometimes its only one! The reddleman's disinterestedness was so +well deserving of respect that it overshot respect by being barely +comprehended; and she almost thought it absurd. + +"Then we are both of one mind at last," she said. + +"Yes," replied Venn gloomily. "But if you would tell me, miss, why +you take such an interest in her, I should be easier. It is so sudden +and strange." + +Eustacia appeared at a loss. "I cannot tell you that, reddleman," she +said coldly. + +Venn said no more. He pocketed the letter, and, bowing to Eustacia, +went away. + +Rainbarrow had again become blended with night when Wildeve ascended +the long acclivity at its base. On his reaching the top a shape grew +up from the earth immediately behind him. It was that of Eustacia's +emissary. He slapped Wildeve on the shoulder. The feverish young +innkeeper and ex-engineer started like Satan at the touch of +Ithuriel's spear. + +"The meeting is always at eight o'clock, at this place," said Venn, +"and here we are--we three." + +"We three?" said Wildeve, looking quickly round. + +"Yes; you, and I, and she. This is she." He held up the letter and +parcel. + +Wildeve took them wonderingly. "I don't quite see what this means," +he said. "How do you come here? There must be some mistake." + +"It will be cleared from your mind when you have read the letter. +Lanterns for one." The reddleman struck a light, kindled an inch of +tallow-candle which he had brought, and sheltered it with his cap. + +"Who are you?" said Wildeve, discerning by the candlelight an +obscure rubicundity of person in his companion. "You are the +reddleman I saw on the hill this morning--why, you are the man +who--" + +"Please read the letter." + +"If you had come from the other one I shouldn't have been surprised," +murmured Wildeve as he opened the letter and read. His face grew +serious. + + + TO MR. WILDEVE. + + After some thought I have decided once and for all that we + must hold no further communication. The more I consider the + matter the more I am convinced that there must be an end + to our acquaintance. Had you been uniformly faithful to me + throughout these two years you might now have some ground + for accusing me of heartlessness; but if you calmly consider + what I bore during the period of your desertion, and how I + passively put up with your courtship of another without once + interfering, you will, I think, own that I have a right to + consult my own feelings when you come back to me again. That + these are not what they were towards you may, perhaps, be a + fault in me, but it is one which you can scarcely reproach + me for when you remember how you left me for Thomasin. + + The little articles you gave me in the early part of our + friendship are returned by the bearer of this letter. They + should rightly have been sent back when I first heard of + your engagement to her. + + EUSTACIA + + +By the time that Wildeve reached her name the blankness with which he +had read the first half of the letter intensified to mortification. +"I am made a great fool of, one way and another," he said pettishly. +"Do you know what is in this letter?" + +The reddleman hummed a tune. + +"Can't you answer me?" asked Wildeve warmly. + +"Ru-um-tum-tum," sang the reddleman. + +Wildeve stood looking on the ground beside Venn's feet, till he +allowed his eyes to travel upwards over Diggory's form, as illuminated +by the candle, to his head and face. "Ha-ha! Well, I suppose I +deserve it, considering how I have played with them both," he said at +last, as much to himself as to Venn. "But of all the odd things that +ever I knew, the oddest is that you should so run counter to your own +interests as to bring this to me." + +"My interests?" + +"Certainly. 'Twas your interest not to do anything which would send me +courting Thomasin again, now she has accepted you--or something like +it. Mrs. Yeobright says you are to marry her. 'Tisn't true, then?" + +"Good Lord! I heard of this before, but didn't believe it. When did +she say so?" + +Wildeve began humming as the reddleman had done. + +"I don't believe it now," cried Venn. + +"Ru-um-tum-tum," sang Wildeve. + +"O Lord--how we can imitate!" said Venn contemptuously. "I'll have +this out. I'll go straight to her." + +Diggory withdrew with an emphatic step, Wildeve's eye passing +over his form in withering derision, as if he were no more than a +heath-cropper. When the reddleman's figure could no longer be seen, +Wildeve himself descended and plunged into the rayless hollow of the +vale. + +To lose the two women--he who had been the well-beloved of both--was +too ironical an issue to be endured. He could only decently save +himself by Thomasin; and once he became her husband, Eustacia's +repentance, he thought, would set in for a long and bitter term. It +was no wonder that Wildeve, ignorant of the new man at the back of the +scene, should have supposed Eustacia to be playing a part. To believe +that the letter was not the result of some momentary pique, to infer +that she really gave him up to Thomasin, would have required previous +knowledge of her transfiguration by that man's influence. Who was to +know that she had grown generous in the greediness of a new passion, +that in coveting one cousin she was dealing liberally with another, +that in her eagerness to appropriate she gave way? + +Full of this resolve to marry in haste, and wring the heart of the +proud girl, Wildeve went his way. + +Meanwhile Diggory Venn had returned to his van, where he stood looking +thoughtfully into the stove. A new vista was opened up to him. +But, however promising Mrs. Yeobright's views of him might be as a +candidate for her niece's hand, one condition was indispensable to the +favour of Thomasin herself, and that was a renunciation of his present +wild mode of life. In this he saw little difficulty. + +He could not afford to wait till the next day before seeing Thomasin +and detailing his plan. He speedily plunged himself into toilet +operations, pulled a suit of cloth clothes from a box, and in about +twenty minutes stood before the van-lantern as a reddleman in nothing +but his face, the vermilion shades of which were not to be removed in +a day. Closing the door and fastening it with a padlock, Venn set off +towards Blooms-End. + +He had reached the white palings and laid his hand upon the gate when +the door of the house opened, and quickly closed again. A female +form had glided in. At the same time a man, who had seemingly been +standing with the woman in the porch, came forward from the house till +he was face to face with Venn. It was Wildeve again. + +"Man alive, you've been quick at it," said Diggory sarcastically. + +"And you slow, as you will find," said Wildeve. "And," lowering his +voice, "you may as well go back again now. I've claimed her, and got +her. Good night, reddleman!" Thereupon Wildeve walked away. + +Venn's heart sank within him, though it had not risen unduly high. +He stood leaning over the palings in an indecisive mood for nearly +a quarter of an hour. Then he went up the garden path, knocked, and +asked for Mrs. Yeobright. + +Instead of requesting him to enter she came to the porch. A discourse +was carried on between them in low measured tones for the space of +ten minutes or more. At the end of the time Mrs. Yeobright went in, +and Venn sadly retraced his steps into the heath. When he had again +regained his van he lit the lantern, and with an apathetic face at +once began to pull off his best clothes, till in the course of a few +minutes he reappeared as the confirmed and irretrievable reddleman +that he had seemed before. + + + + +VIII + +Firmness Is Discovered in a Gentle Heart + + +On that evening the interior of Blooms-End, though cosy and +comfortable, had been rather silent. Clym Yeobright was not at home. +Since the Christmas party he had gone on a few days' visit to a friend +about ten miles off. + +The shadowy form seen by Venn to part from Wildeve in the porch, and +quickly withdraw into the house, was Thomasin's. On entering she threw +down a cloak which had been carelessly wrapped round her, and came +forward to the light, where Mrs. Yeobright sat at her work-table, +drawn up within the settle, so that part of it projected into the +chimney-corner. + +"I don't like your going out after dark alone, Tamsin," said her aunt +quietly, without looking up from her work. + +"I have only been just outside the door." + +"Well?" inquired Mrs. Yeobright, struck by a change in the tone of +Thomasin's voice, and observing her. Thomasin's cheek was flushed to +a pitch far beyond that which it had reached before her troubles, and +her eyes glittered. + +"It was HE who knocked," she said. + +"I thought as much." + +"He wishes the marriage to be at once." + +"Indeed! What--is he anxious?" Mrs. Yeobright directed a searching +look upon her niece. "Why did not Mr. Wildeve come in?" + +"He did not wish to. You are not friends with him, he says. He would +like the wedding to be the day after tomorrow, quite privately; at the +church of his parish--not at ours." + +"Oh! And what did you say?" + +"I agreed to it," Thomasin answered firmly. "I am a practical woman +now. I don't believe in hearts at all. I would marry him under any +circumstances since--since Clym's letter." + +A letter was lying on Mrs. Yeobright's work-basket, and at Thomasin's +word her aunt reopened it, and silently read for the tenth time that +day:-- + + + What is the meaning of this silly story that people are + circulating about Thomasin and Mr. Wildeve? I should call + such a scandal humiliating if there was the least chance + of its being true. How could such a gross falsehood have + arisen? It is said that one should go abroad to hear + news of home, and I appear to have done it. Of course I + contradict the tale everywhere; but it is very vexing, + and I wonder how it could have originated. It is too + ridiculous that such a girl as Thomasin could so mortify + us as to get jilted on the wedding-day. What has she done? + + +"Yes," Mrs. Yeobright said sadly, putting down the letter. "If you +think you can marry him, do so. And since Mr. Wildeve wishes it to +be unceremonious, let it be that too. I can do nothing. It is all in +your own hands now. My power over your welfare came to an end when you +left this house to go with him to Anglebury." She continued, half in +bitterness, "I may almost ask, why do you consult me in the matter at +all? If you had gone and married him without saying a word to me, I +could hardly have been angry--simply because, poor girl, you can't do +a better thing." + +"Don't say that and dishearten me." + +"You are right: I will not." + +"I do not plead for him, aunt. Human nature is weak, and I am not a +blind woman to insist that he is perfect. I did think so, but I don't +now. But I know my course, and you know that I know it. I hope for +the best." + +"And so do I, and we will both continue to," said Mrs. Yeobright, +rising and kissing her. "Then the wedding, if it comes off, will be +on the morning of the very day Clym comes home?" + +"Yes. I decided that it ought to be over before he came. After that +you can look him in the face, and so can I. Our concealments will +matter nothing." + +Mrs. Yeobright moved her head in thoughtful assent, and presently +said, "Do you wish me to give you away? I am willing to undertake +that, you know, if you wish, as I was last time. After once +forbidding the banns I think I can do no less." + +"I don't think I will ask you to come," said Thomasin reluctantly, but +with decision. "It would be unpleasant, I am almost sure. Better let +there be only strangers present, and none of my relations at all. I +would rather have it so. I do not wish to do anything which may touch +your credit, and I feel that I should be uncomfortable if you were +there, after what has passed. I am only your niece, and there is no +necessity why you should concern yourself more about me." + +"Well, he has beaten us," her aunt said. "It really seems as if he +had been playing with you in this way in revenge for my humbling him +as I did by standing up against him at first." + +"O no, aunt," murmured Thomasin. + +They said no more on the subject then. Diggory Venn's knock came soon +after; and Mrs. Yeobright, on returning from her interview with him +in the porch, carelessly observed, "Another lover has come to ask for +you." + +"No?" + +"Yes, that queer young man Venn." + +"Asks to pay his addresses to me?" + +"Yes; and I told him he was too late." + +Thomasin looked silently into the candle-flame. "Poor Diggory!" she +said, and then aroused herself to other things. + +The next day was passed in mere mechanical deeds of preparation, both +the women being anxious to immerse themselves in these to escape the +emotional aspect of the situation. Some wearing apparel and other +articles were collected anew for Thomasin, and remarks on domestic +details were frequently made, so as to obscure any inner misgivings +about her future as Wildeve's wife. + +The appointed morning came. The arrangement with Wildeve was that +he should meet her at the church to guard against any unpleasant +curiosity which might have affected them had they been seen walking +off together in the usual country way. + +Aunt and niece stood together in the bedroom where the bride was +dressing. The sun, where it could catch it, made a mirror of +Thomasin's hair, which she always wore braided. It was braided +according to a calendric system: the more important the day the more +numerous the strands in the braid. On ordinary working-days she +braided it in threes; on ordinary Sundays in fours; at May-polings, +gipsyings, and the like, she braided it in fives. Years ago she had +said that when she married she would braid it in sevens. She had +braided it in sevens today. + +"I have been thinking that I will wear my blue silk after all," she +said. "It IS my wedding day, even though there may be something +sad about the time. I mean," she added, anxious to correct any +wrong impression, "not sad in itself, but in its having had great +disappointment and trouble before it." + +Mrs. Yeobright breathed in a way which might have been called a sigh. +"I almost wish Clym had been at home," she said. "Of course you chose +the time because of his absence." + +"Partly. I have felt that I acted unfairly to him in not telling him +all; but, as it was done not to grieve him, I thought I would carry +out the plan to its end, and tell the whole story when the sky was +clear." + +"You are a practical little woman," said Mrs. Yeobright, smiling. +"I wish you and he--no, I don't wish anything. There, it is nine +o'clock," she interrupted, hearing a whizz and a dinging downstairs. + +"I told Damon I would leave at nine," said Thomasin, hastening out of +the room. + +Her aunt followed. When Thomasin was going up the little walk from +the door to the wicket-gate, Mrs. Yeobright looked reluctantly at her, +and said, "It is a shame to let you go alone." + +"It is necessary," said Thomasin. + +"At any rate," added her aunt with forced cheerfulness, "I shall call +upon you this afternoon, and bring the cake with me. If Clym has +returned by that time he will perhaps come too. I wish to show Mr. +Wildeve that I bear him no ill-will. Let the past be forgotten. Well, +God bless you! There, I don't believe in old superstitions, but I'll +do it." She threw a slipper at the retreating figure of the girl, who +turned, smiled, and went on again. + +A few steps further, and she looked back. "Did you call me, aunt?" +she tremulously inquired. "Good-bye!" + +Moved by an uncontrollable feeling as she looked upon Mrs. Yeobright's +worn, wet face, she ran back, when her aunt came forward, and they met +again. "O--Tamsie," said the elder, weeping, "I don't like to let you +go." + +"I--I--am--" Thomasin began, giving way likewise. But, quelling her +grief, she said "Good-bye!" again and went on. + +Then Mrs. Yeobright saw a little figure wending its way between +the scratching furze-bushes, and diminishing far up the valley--a +pale-blue spot in a vast field of neutral brown, solitary and +undefended except by the power of her own hope. + +But the worst feature in the case was one which did not appear in the +landscape; it was the man. + +The hour chosen for the ceremony by Thomasin and Wildeve had been so +timed as to enable her to escape the awkwardness of meeting her cousin +Clym, who was returning the same morning. To own to the partial truth +of what he had heard would be distressing as long as the humiliating +position resulting from the event was unimproved. It was only after a +second and successful journey to the altar that she could lift up her +head and prove the failure of the first attempt a pure accident. + +She had not been gone from Blooms-End more than half an hour when +Yeobright came by the meads from the other direction and entered the +house. + +"I had an early breakfast," he said to his mother after greeting her. +"Now I could eat a little more." + +They sat down to the repeated meal, and he went on in a low, anxious +voice, apparently imagining that Thomasin had not yet come downstairs, +"What's this I have heard about Thomasin and Mr. Wildeve?" + +"It is true in many points," said Mrs. Yeobright quietly; "but it is +all right now, I hope." She looked at the clock. + +"True?" + +"Thomasin is gone to him today." + +Clym pushed away his breakfast. "Then there is a scandal of some +sort, and that's what's the matter with Thomasin. Was it this that +made her ill?" + +"Yes. Not a scandal: a misfortune. I will tell you all about it, +Clym. You must not be angry, but you must listen, and you'll find +that what we have done has been done for the best." + +She then told him the circumstances. All that he had known of the +affair before he returned from Paris was that there had existed an +attachment between Thomasin and Wildeve, which his mother had at first +discountenanced, but had since, owing to the arguments of Thomasin, +looked upon in a little more favourable light. When she, therefore, +proceeded to explain all he was greatly surprised and troubled. + +"And she determined that the wedding should be over before you came +back," said Mrs. Yeobright, "that there might be no chance of her +meeting you, and having a very painful time of it. That's why she has +gone to him; they have arranged to be married this morning." + +"But I can't understand it," said Yeobright, rising. "'Tis so unlike +her. I can see why you did not write to me after her unfortunate +return home. But why didn't you let me know when the wedding was +going to be--the first time?" + +"Well, I felt vexed with her just then. She seemed to me to be +obstinate; and when I found that you were nothing in her mind I vowed +that she should be nothing in yours. I felt that she was only my +niece after all; I told her she might marry, but that I should take no +interest in it, and should not bother you about it either." + +"It wouldn't have been bothering me. Mother, you did wrong." + +"I thought it might disturb you in your business, and that you might +throw up your situation, or injure your prospects in some way because +of it, so I said nothing. Of course, if they had married at that time +in a proper manner, I should have told you at once." + +"Tamsin actually being married while we are sitting here!" + +"Yes. Unless some accident happens again, as it did the first time. +It may, considering he's the same man." + +"Yes, and I believe it will. Was it right to let her go? Suppose +Wildeve is really a bad fellow?" + +"Then he won't come, and she'll come home again." + +"You should have looked more into it." + +"It is useless to say that," his mother answered with an impatient +look of sorrow. "You don't know how bad it has been here with us all +these weeks, Clym. You don't know what a mortification anything of +that sort is to a woman. You don't know the sleepless nights we've +had in this house, and the almost bitter words that have passed +between us since that Fifth of November. I hope never to pass seven +such weeks again. Tamsin has not gone outside the door, and I have +been ashamed to look anybody in the face; and now you blame me for +letting her do the only thing that can be done to set that trouble +straight." + +"No," he said slowly. "Upon the whole I don't blame you. But just +consider how sudden it seems to me. Here was I, knowing nothing; and +then I am told all at once that Tamsie is gone to be married. Well, +I suppose there was nothing better to do. Do you know, mother," he +continued after a moment or two, looking suddenly interested in his +own past history, "I once thought of Tamsin as a sweetheart? Yes, I +did. How odd boys are! And when I came home and saw her this time she +seemed so much more affectionate than usual, that I was quite reminded +of those days, particularly on the night of the party, when she was +unwell. We had the party just the same--was not that rather cruel to +her?" + +"It made no difference. I had arranged to give one, and it was not +worth while to make more gloom than necessary. To begin by shutting +ourselves up and telling you of Tamsin's misfortunes would have been +a poor sort of welcome." + +Clym remained thinking. "I almost wish you had not had that party," +he said; "and for other reasons. But I will tell you in a day or two. +We must think of Tamsin now." + +They lapsed into silence. "I'll tell you what," said Yeobright again, +in a tone which showed some slumbering feeling still. "I don't think +it kind to Tamsin to let her be married like this, and neither of +us there to keep up her spirits or care a bit about her. She hasn't +disgraced herself, or done anything to deserve that. It is bad enough +that the wedding should be so hurried and unceremonious, without our +keeping away from it in addition. Upon my soul, 'tis almost a shame. +I'll go." + +"It is over by this time," said his mother with a sigh; "unless they +were late, or he--" + +"Then I shall be soon enough to see them come out. I don't quite like +your keeping me in ignorance, mother, after all. Really, I half hope +he has failed to meet her!" + +"And ruined her character?" + +"Nonsense: that wouldn't ruin Thomasin." + +He took up his hat and hastily left the house. Mrs. Yeobright looked +rather unhappy, and sat still, deep in thought. But she was not long +left alone. A few minutes later Clym came back again, and in his +company came Diggory Venn. + +"I find there isn't time for me to get there," said Clym. + +"Is she married?" Mrs. Yeobright inquired, turning to the reddleman +a face in which a strange strife of wishes, for and against, was +apparent. + +Venn bowed. "She is, ma'am." + +"How strange it sounds," murmured Clym. + +"And he didn't disappoint her this time?" said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"He did not. And there is now no slight on her name. I was hastening +ath'art to tell you at once, as I saw you were not there." + +"How came you to be there? How did you know it?" she asked. + +"I have been in that neighbourhood for some time, and I saw them go +in," said the reddleman. "Wildeve came up to the door, punctual as +the clock. I didn't expect it of him." He did not add, as he might +have added, that how he came to be in that neighbourhood was not by +accident; that, since Wildeve's resumption of his right to Thomasin, +Venn, with the thoroughness which was part of his character, had +determined to see the end of the episode. + +"Who was there?" said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Nobody hardly. I stood right out of the way, and she did not see +me." The reddleman spoke huskily, and looked into the garden. + +"Who gave her away?" + +"Miss Vye." + +"How very remarkable! Miss Vye! It is to be considered an honour, +I suppose?" + +"Who's Miss Vye?" said Clym. + +"Captain Vye's granddaughter, of Mistover Knap." + +"A proud girl from Budmouth," said Mrs. Yeobright. "One not much to +my liking. People say she's a witch, but of course that's absurd." + +The reddleman kept to himself his acquaintance with that fair +personage, and also that Eustacia was there because he went to fetch +her, in accordance with a promise he had given as soon as he learnt +that the marriage was to take place. He merely said, in continuation +of the story-- + +"I was sitting on the churchyard wall when they came up, one from one +way, the other from the other; and Miss Vye was walking thereabouts, +looking at the head-stones. As soon as they had gone in I went to +the door, feeling I should like to see it, as I knew her so well. I +pulled off my boots because they were so noisy, and went up into the +gallery. I saw then that the parson and clerk were already there." + +"How came Miss Vye to have anything to do with it, if she was only on +a walk that way?" + +"Because there was nobody else. She had gone into the church just +before me, not into the gallery. The parson looked round before +beginning, and as she was the only one near he beckoned to her, and +she went up to the rails. After that, when it came to signing the +book, she pushed up her veil and signed; and Tamsin seemed to thank +her for her kindness." The reddleman told the tale thoughtfully, +for there lingered upon his vision the changing colour of Wildeve, +when Eustacia lifted the thick veil which had concealed her from +recognition and looked calmly into his face. "And then," said Diggory +sadly, "I came away, for her history as Tamsin Yeobright was over." + +"I offered to go," said Mrs. Yeobright regretfully. "But she said it +was not necessary." + +"Well, it is no matter," said the reddleman. "The thing is done at +last as it was meant to be at first, and God send her happiness. Now +I'll wish you good morning." + +He placed his cap on his head and went out. + +From that instant of leaving Mrs. Yeobright's door, the reddleman was +seen no more in or about Egdon Heath for a space of many months. He +vanished entirely. The nook among the brambles where his van had been +standing was as vacant as ever the next morning, and scarcely a sign +remained to show that he had been there, excepting a few straws, and a +little redness on the turf, which was washed away by the next storm of +rain. + +The report that Diggory had brought of the wedding, correct as far +as it went, was deficient in one significant particular, which had +escaped him through his being at some distance back in the church. +When Thomasin was tremblingly engaged in signing her name Wildeve had +flung towards Eustacia a glance that said plainly, "I have punished +you now." She had replied in a low tone--and he little thought how +truly--"You mistake; it gives me sincerest pleasure to see her your +wife today." + + + + +BOOK THIRD +THE FASCINATION + + +I + +"My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is" + + +In Clym Yeobright's face could be dimly seen the typical countenance +of the future. Should there be a classic period to art hereafter, its +Pheidias may produce such faces. The view of life as a thing to be +put up with, replacing that zest for existence which was so intense +in early civilizations, must ultimately enter so thoroughly into the +constitution of the advanced races that its facial expression will +become accepted as a new artistic departure. People already feel that +a man who lives without disturbing a curve of feature, or setting +a mark of mental concern anywhere upon himself, is too far removed +from modern perceptiveness to be a modern type. Physically beautiful +men--the glory of the race when it was young--are almost an +anachronism now; and we may wonder whether, at some time or other, +physically beautiful women may not be an anachronism likewise. + +The truth seems to be that a long line of disillusive centuries has +permanently displaced the Hellenic idea of life, or whatever it may +be called. What the Greeks only suspected we know well; what their +Aeschylus imagined our nursery children feel. That old-fashioned +revelling in the general situation grows less and less possible as we +uncover the defects of natural laws, and see the quandary that man is +in by their operation. + +The lineaments which will get embodied in ideals based upon this +new recognition will probably be akin to those of Yeobright. The +observer's eye was arrested, not by his face as a picture, but by +his face as a page; not by what it was, but by what it recorded. +His features were attractive in the light of symbols, as sounds +intrinsically common become attractive in language, and as shapes +intrinsically simple become interesting in writing. + +He had been a lad of whom something was expected. Beyond this all had +been chaos. That he would be successful in an original way, or that +he would go to the dogs in an original way, seemed equally probable. +The only absolute certainty about him was that he would not stand +still in the circumstances amid which he was born. + +Hence, when his name was casually mentioned by neighbouring yeomen, +the listener said, "Ah, Clym Yeobright: what is he doing now?" When +the instinctive question about a person is, What is he doing? it is +felt that he will be found to be, like most of us, doing nothing in +particular. There is an indefinite sense that he must be invading +some region of singularity, good or bad. The devout hope is that he +is doing well. The secret faith is that he is making a mess of it. +Half a dozen comfortable marketmen, who were habitual callers at the +Quiet Woman as they passed by in their carts, were partial to the +topic. In fact, though they were not Egdon men, they could hardly +avoid it while they sucked their long clay tubes and regarded the +heath through the window. Clym had been so inwoven with the heath in +his boyhood that hardly anybody could look upon it without thinking of +him. So the subject recurred: if he were making a fortune and a name, +so much the better for him; if he were making a tragical figure in the +world, so much the better for a narrative. + +The fact was that Yeobright's fame had spread to an awkward extent +before he left home. "It is bad when your fame outruns your means," +said the Spanish Jesuit Gracian. At the age of six he had asked a +Scripture riddle: "Who was the first man known to wear breeches?" +and applause had resounded from the very verge of the heath. At +seven he painted the Battle of Waterloo with tiger-lily pollen and +black-currant juice, in the absence of water-colours. By the time +he reached twelve he had in this manner been heard of as artist +and scholar for at least two miles round. An individual whose fame +spreads three or four thousand yards in the time taken by the fame +of others similarly situated to travel six or eight hundred, must of +necessity have something in him. Possibly Clym's fame, like Homer's, +owed something to the accidents of his situation; nevertheless famous +he was. + +He grew up and was helped out in life. That waggery of fate which +started Clive as a writing clerk, Gay as a linen-draper, Keats as a +surgeon, and a thousand others in a thousand other odd ways, banished +the wild and ascetic heath lad to a trade whose sole concern was with +the especial symbols of self-indulgence and vainglory. + +The details of this choice of a business for him it is not necessary +to give. At the death of his father a neighbouring gentleman had +kindly undertaken to give the boy a start, and this assumed the form +of sending him to Budmouth. Yeobright did not wish to go there, but +it was the only feasible opening. Thence he went to London; and +thence, shortly after, to Paris, where he had remained till now. + +Something being expected of him, he had not been at home many days +before a great curiosity as to why he stayed on so long began to +arise in the heath. The natural term of a holiday had passed, yet +he still remained. On the Sunday morning following the week of +Thomasin's marriage a discussion on this subject was in progress at +a hair-cutting before Fairway's house. Here the local barbering was +always done at this hour on this day, to be followed by the great +Sunday wash of the inhabitants at noon, which in its turn was followed +by the great Sunday dressing an hour later. On Egdon Heath Sunday +proper did not begin till dinner-time, and even then it was a somewhat +battered specimen of the day. + +These Sunday-morning hair-cuttings were performed by Fairway; the +victim sitting on a chopping-block in front of the house, without a +coat, and the neighbours gossiping around, idly observing the locks +of hair as they rose upon the wind after the snip, and flew away out +of sight to the four quarters of the heavens. Summer and winter the +scene was the same, unless the wind were more than usually blusterous, +when the stool was shifted a few feet round the corner. To complain +of cold in sitting out of doors, hatless and coatless, while Fairway +told true stories between the cuts of the scissors, would have been +to pronounce yourself no man at once. To flinch, exclaim, or move a +muscle of the face at the small stabs under the ear received from +those instruments, or at scarifications of the neck by the comb, would +have been thought a gross breach of good manners, considering that +Fairway did it all for nothing. A bleeding about the poll on Sunday +afternoons was amply accounted for by the explanation. "I have had my +hair cut, you know." + +The conversation on Yeobright had been started by a distant view of +the young man rambling leisurely across the heath before them. + +"A man who is doing well elsewhere wouldn't bide here two or three +weeks for nothing," said Fairway. "He's got some project in's +head--depend upon that." + +"Well, 'a can't keep a diment shop here," said Sam. + +"I don't see why he should have had them two heavy boxes home if he +had not been going to bide; and what there is for him to do here the +Lord in heaven knows." + +Before many more surmises could be indulged in Yeobright had come +near; and seeing the hair-cutting group he turned aside to join them. +Marching up, and looking critically at their faces for a moment, he +said, without introduction, "Now, folks, let me guess what you have +been talking about." + +"Ay, sure, if you will," said Sam. + +"About me." + +"Now, it is a thing I shouldn't have dreamed of doing, otherwise," +said Fairway in a tone of integrity; "but since you have named it, +Master Yeobright, I'll own that we was talking about 'ee. We were +wondering what could keep you home here mollyhorning about when you +have made such a world-wide name for yourself in the nick-nack +trade--now, that's the truth o't." + +"I'll tell you," said Yeobright, with unexpected earnestness. "I am +not sorry to have the opportunity. I've come home because, all things +considered, I can be a trifle less useless here than anywhere else. +But I have only lately found this out. When I first got away from +home I thought this place was not worth troubling about. I thought +our life here was contemptible. To oil your boots instead of blacking +them, to dust your coat with a switch instead of a brush: was there +ever anything more ridiculous? I said." + +"So 'tis; so 'tis!" + +"No, no--you are wrong; it isn't." + +"Beg your pardon, we thought that was your maning?" + +"Well, as my views changed my course became very depressing. I found +that I was trying to be like people who had hardly anything in common +with myself. I was endeavouring to put off one sort of life for +another sort of life, which was not better than the life I had known +before. It was simply different." + +"True; a sight different," said Fairway. + +"Yes, Paris must be a taking place," said Humphrey. "Grand +shop-winders, trumpets, and drums; and here be we out of doors in all +winds and weathers--" + +"But you mistake me," pleaded Clym. "All this was very depressing. +But not so depressing as something I next perceived--that my business +was the idlest, vainest, most effeminate business that ever a man +could be put to. That decided me: I would give it up and try to +follow some rational occupation among the people I knew best, and +to whom I could be of most use. I have come home; and this is how I +mean to carry out my plan. I shall keep a school as near to Egdon as +possible, so as to be able to walk over here and have a night-school +in my mother's house. But I must study a little at first, to get +properly qualified. Now, neighbours, I must go." + +And Clym resumed his walk across the heath. + +"He'll never carry it out in the world," said Fairway. "In a few weeks +he'll learn to see things otherwise." + +"'Tis good-hearted of the young man," said another. "But, for my +part, I think he had better mind his business." + + + + +II + +The New Course Causes Disappointment + + +Yeobright loved his kind. He had a conviction that the want of most +men was knowledge of a sort which brings wisdom rather than affluence. +He wished to raise the class at the expense of individuals rather than +individuals at the expense of the class. What was more, he was ready +at once to be the first unit sacrificed. + +In passing from the bucolic to the intellectual life the intermediate +stages are usually two at least, frequently many more; and one of +those stages is almost sure to be worldly advance. We can hardly +imagine bucolic placidity quickening to intellectual aims without +imagining social aims as the transitional phase. Yeobright's local +peculiarity was that in striving at high thinking he still cleaved +to plain living--nay, wild and meagre living in many respects, and +brotherliness with clowns. + +He was a John the Baptist who took ennoblement rather than repentance +for his text. Mentally he was in a provincial future, that is, he was +in many points abreast with the central town thinkers of his date. +Much of this development he may have owed to his studious life in +Paris, where he had become acquainted with ethical systems popular at +the time. + +In consequence of this relatively advanced position, Yeobright might +have been called unfortunate. The rural world was not ripe for him. +A man should be only partially before his time: to be completely to +the vanward in aspirations is fatal to fame. Had Philip's warlike son +been intellectually so far ahead as to have attempted civilization +without bloodshed, he would have been twice the godlike hero that he +seemed, but nobody would have heard of an Alexander. + +In the interests of renown the forwardness should lie chiefly in the +capacity to handle things. Successful propagandists have succeeded +because the doctrine they bring into form is that which their +listeners have for some time felt without being able to shape. A man +who advocates aesthetic effort and deprecates social effort is only +likely to be understood by a class to which social effort has become a +stale matter. To argue upon the possibility of culture before luxury +to the bucolic world may be to argue truly, but it is an attempt +to disturb a sequence to which humanity has been long accustomed. +Yeobright preaching to the Egdon eremites that they might rise to +a serene comprehensiveness without going through the process of +enriching themselves, was not unlike arguing to ancient Chaldeans that +in ascending from earth to the pure empyrean it was not necessary to +pass first into the intervening heaven of ether. + +Was Yeobright's mind well-proportioned? No. A well-proportioned mind +is one which shows no particular bias; one of which we may safely +say that it will never cause its owner to be confined as a madman, +tortured as a heretic, or crucified as a blasphemer. Also, on the +other hand, that it will never cause him to be applauded as a prophet, +revered as a priest, or exalted as a king. Its usual blessings are +happiness and mediocrity. It produces the poetry of Rogers, the +paintings of West, the statecraft of North, the spiritual guidance +of Tomline; enabling its possessors to find their way to wealth, to +wind up well, to step with dignity off the stage, to die comfortably +in their beds, and to get the decent monument which, in many +cases, they deserve. It never would have allowed Yeobright to do +such a ridiculous thing as throw up his business to benefit his +fellow-creatures. + +He walked along towards home without attending to paths. If anyone +knew the heath well it was Clym. He was permeated with its scenes, +with its substance, and with its odours. He might be said to be its +product. His eyes had first opened thereon; with its appearance all +the first images of his memory were mingled; his estimate of life +had been coloured by it: his toys had been the flint knives and +arrow-heads which he found there, wondering why stones should "grow" +to such odd shapes; his flowers, the purple bells and yellow furze; +his animal kingdom, the snakes and croppers; his society, its human +haunters. Take all the varying hates felt by Eustacia Vye towards the +heath, and translate them into loves, and you have the heart of Clym. +He gazed upon the wide prospect as he walked, and was glad. + +To many persons this Egdon was a place which had slipped out of its +century generations ago, to intrude as an uncouth object into this. +It was an obsolete thing, and few cared to study it. How could this +be otherwise in the days of square fields, plashed hedges, and meadows +watered on a plan so rectangular that on a fine day they looked +like silver gridirons? The farmer, in his ride, who could smile at +artificial grasses, look with solicitude at the coming corn, and sigh +with sadness at the fly-eaten turnips, bestowed upon the distant +upland of heath nothing better than a frown. But as for Yeobright, +when he looked from the heights on his way he could not help indulging +in a barbarous satisfaction at observing that, in some of the attempts +at reclamation from the waste, tillage, after holding on for a year +or two, had receded again in despair, the ferns and furze-tufts +stubbornly reasserting themselves. + +He descended into the valley, and soon reached his home at Blooms-End. +His mother was snipping dead leaves from the window-plants. She looked +up at him as if she did not understand the meaning of his long stay +with her; her face had worn that look for several days. He could +perceive that the curiosity which had been shown by the hair-cutting +group amounted in his mother to concern. But she had asked no question +with her lips, even when the arrival of his trunk suggested that he +was not going to leave her soon. Her silence besought an explanation +of him more loudly than words. + +"I am not going back to Paris again, mother," he said. "At least, in +my old capacity. I have given up the business." + +Mrs. Yeobright turned in pained surprise. "I thought something was +amiss, because of the boxes. I wonder you did not tell me sooner." + +"I ought to have done it. But I have been in doubt whether you would +be pleased with my plan. I was not quite clear on a few points +myself. I am going to take an entirely new course." + +"I am astonished, Clym. How can you want to do better than you've +been doing?" + +"Very easily. But I shall not do better in the way you mean; I +suppose it will be called doing worse. But I hate that business of +mine, and I want to do some worthy thing before I die. As a +schoolmaster I think to do it--a school-master to the poor and +ignorant, to teach them what nobody else will." + +"After all the trouble that has been taken to give you a start, and +when there is nothing to do but to keep straight on towards affluence, +you say you will be a poor man's schoolmaster. Your fancies will be +your ruin, Clym." + +Mrs. Yeobright spoke calmly, but the force of feeling behind the words +was but too apparent to one who knew her as well as her son did. He +did not answer. There was in his face that hopelessness of being +understood which comes when the objector is constitutionally beyond +the reach of a logic that, even under favouring conditions, is almost +too coarse a vehicle for the subtlety of the argument. + +No more was said on the subject till the end of dinner. His mother +then began, as if there had been no interval since the morning. "It +disturbs me, Clym, to find that you have come home with such thoughts +as those. I hadn't the least idea that you meant to go backward in +the world by your own free choice. Of course, I have always supposed +you were going to push straight on, as other men do--all who deserve +the name--when they have been put in a good way of doing well." + +"I cannot help it," said Clym, in a troubled tone. "Mother, I hate +the flashy business. Talk about men who deserve the name, can any man +deserving the name waste his time in that effeminate way, when he sees +half the world going to ruin for want of somebody to buckle to and +teach them how to breast the misery they are born to? I get up every +morning and see the whole creation groaning and travailing in pain, +as St. Paul says, and yet there am I, trafficking in glittering +splendours with wealthy women and titled libertines, and pandering +to the meanest vanities--I, who have health and strength enough for +anything. I have been troubled in my mind about it all the year, and +the end is that I cannot do it any more." + +"Why can't you do it as well as others?" + +"I don't know, except that there are many things other people care +for which I don't; and that's partly why I think I ought to do this. +For one thing, my body does not require much of me. I cannot enjoy +delicacies; good things are wasted upon me. Well, I ought to turn +that defect to advantage, and by being able to do without what other +people require I can spend what such things cost upon anybody else." + +Now, Yeobright, having inherited some of these very instincts from +the woman before him, could not fail to awaken a reciprocity in her +through her feelings, if not by arguments, disguise it as she might +for his good. She spoke with less assurance. "And yet you might have +been a wealthy man if you had only persevered. Manager to that large +diamond establishment--what better can a man wish for? What a post of +trust and respect! I suppose you will be like your father; like him, +you are getting weary of doing well." + +"No," said her son, "I am not weary of that, though I am weary of what +you mean by it. Mother, what is doing well?" + +Mrs. Yeobright was far too thoughtful a woman to be content with ready +definitions, and, like the "What is wisdom?" of Plato's Socrates, and +the "What is truth?" of Pontius Pilate, Yeobright's burning question +received no answer. + +The silence was broken by the clash of the garden gate, a tap at the +door, and its opening. Christian Cantle appeared in the room in his +Sunday clothes. + +It was the custom on Egdon to begin the preface to a story before +absolutely entering the house, so as to be well in for the body of +the narrative by the time visitor and visited stood face to face. +Christian had been saying to them while the door was leaving its +latch, "To think that I, who go from home but once in a while, and +hardly then, should have been there this morning!" + +"'Tis news you have brought us, then, Christian?" said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Ay, sure, about a witch, and ye must overlook my time o' day; for, +says I, 'I must go and tell 'em, though they won't have half done +dinner.' I assure ye it made me shake like a driven leaf. Do ye think +any harm will come o't?" + +"Well--what?" + +"This morning at church we was all standing up, and the pa'son said, +'Let us pray.' 'Well,' thinks I, 'one may as well kneel as stand'; +so down I went; and, more than that, all the rest were as willing to +oblige the man as I. We hadn't been hard at it for more than a minute +when a most terrible screech sounded through church, as if somebody +had just gied up their heart's blood. All the folk jumped up and +then we found that Susan Nunsuch had pricked Miss Vye with a long +stocking-needle, as she had threatened to do as soon as ever she could +get the young lady to church, where she don't come very often. She've +waited for this chance for weeks, so as to draw her blood and put an +end to the bewitching of Susan's children that has been carried on so +long. Sue followed her into church, sat next to her, and as soon as +she could find a chance in went the stocking-needle into my lady's +arm." + +"Good heaven, how horrid!" said Mrs. Yeobright. + +"Sue pricked her that deep that the maid fainted away; and as I was +afeard there might be some tumult among us, I got behind the bass-viol +and didn't see no more. But they carried her out into the air, 'tis +said; but when they looked round for Sue she was gone. What a scream +that girl gied, poor thing! There were the pa'son in his surplice +holding up his hand and saying, 'Sit down, my good people, sit down!' +But the deuce a bit would they sit down. O, and what d'ye think I +found out, Mrs. Yeobright? The pa'son wears a suit of clothes under +his surplice!--I could see his black sleeves when he held up his arm." + +"'Tis a cruel thing," said Yeobright. + +"Yes," said his mother. + +"The nation ought to look into it," said Christian. "Here's Humphrey +coming, I think." + +In came Humphrey. "Well, have ye heard the news? But I see you have. +'Tis a very strange thing that whenever one of Egdon folk goes to +church some rum job or other is sure to be doing. The last time one +of us was there was when neighbour Fairway went in the fall; and that +was the day you forbad the banns, Mrs. Yeobright." + +"Has this cruelly treated girl been able to walk home?" said Clym. + +"They say she got better, and went home very well. And now I've told +it I must be moving homeward myself." + +"And I," said Humphrey. "Truly now we shall see if there's anything +in what folks say about her." + +When they were gone into the heath again Yeobright said quietly to his +mother, "Do you think I have turned teacher too soon?" + +"It is right that there should be schoolmasters, and missionaries, and +all such men," she replied. "But it is right, too, that I should try +to lift you out of this life into something richer, and that you +should not come back again, and be as if I had not tried at all." + + + +Later in the day Sam, the turf-cutter, entered. "I've come +a-borrowing, Mrs. Yeobright. I suppose you have heard what's been +happening to the beauty on the hill?" + +"Yes, Sam: half a dozen have been telling us." + +"Beauty?" said Clym. + +"Yes, tolerably well-favoured," Sam replied. "Lord! all the country +owns that 'tis one of the strangest things in the world that such a +woman should have come to live up there." + +"Dark or fair?" + +"Now, though I've seen her twenty times, that's a thing I cannot call +to mind." + +"Darker than Tamsin," murmured Mrs. Yeobright. + +"A woman who seems to care for nothing at all, as you may say." + +"She is melancholy, then?" inquired Clym. + +"She mopes about by herself, and don't mix in with the people." + +"Is she a young lady inclined for adventures?" + +"Not to my knowledge." + +"Doesn't join in with the lads in their games, to get some sort of +excitement in this lonely place?" + +"No." + +"Mumming, for instance?" + +"No. Her notions be different. I should rather say her thoughts were +far away from here, with lords and ladies she'll never know, and +mansions she'll never see again." + +Observing that Clym appeared singularly interested Mrs. Yeobright said +rather uneasily to Sam, "You see more in her than most of us do. Miss +Vye is to my mind too idle to be charming. I have never heard that +she is of any use to herself or to other people. Good girls don't get +treated as witches even on Egdon." + +"Nonsense--that proves nothing either way," said Yeobright. + +"Well, of course I don't understand such niceties," said Sam, +withdrawing from a possibly unpleasant argument; "and what she is we +must wait for time to tell us. The business that I have really called +about is this, to borrow the longest and strongest rope you have. The +captain's bucket has dropped into the well, and they are in want of +water; and as all the chaps are at home today we think we can get it +out for him. We have three cart-ropes already, but they won't reach +to the bottom." + +Mrs. Yeobright told him that he might have whatever ropes he could +find in the outhouse, and Sam went out to search. When he passed by +the door Clym joined him, and accompanied him to the gate. + +"Is this young witch-lady going to stay long at Mistover?" he asked. + +"I should say so." + +"What a cruel shame to ill-use her, She must have suffered +greatly--more in mind than in body." + +"'Twas a graceless trick--such a handsome girl, too. You ought to see +her, Mr. Yeobright, being a young man come from far, and with a little +more to show for your years than most of us." + +"Do you think she would like to teach children?" said Clym. + +Sam shook his head. "Quite a different sort of body from that, I +reckon." + +"O, it was merely something which occurred to me. It would of course +be necessary to see her and talk it over--not an easy thing, by the +way, for my family and hers are not very friendly." + +"I'll tell you how you mid see her, Mr. Yeobright," said Sam. "We are +going to grapple for the bucket at six o'clock tonight at her house, +and you could lend a hand. There's five or six coming, but the well is +deep, and another might be useful, if you don't mind appearing in that +shape. She's sure to be walking round." + +"I'll think of it," said Yeobright; and they parted. + +He thought of it a good deal; but nothing more was said about Eustacia +inside the house at that time. Whether this romantic martyr to +superstition and the melancholy mummer he had conversed with under the +full moon were one and the same person remained as yet a problem. + + + + +III + +The First Act in a Timeworn Drama + + +The afternoon was fine, and Yeobright walked on the heath for an hour +with his mother. When they reached the lofty ridge which divided the +valley of Blooms-End from the adjoining valley they stood still and +looked round. The Quiet Woman Inn was visible on the low margin of the +heath in one direction, and afar on the other hand rose Mistover Knap. + +"You mean to call on Thomasin?" he inquired. + +"Yes. But you need not come this time," said his mother. + +"In that case I'll branch off here, mother. I am going to Mistover." + +Mrs. Yeobright turned to him inquiringly. + +"I am going to help them get the bucket out of the captain's well," he +continued. "As it is so very deep I may be useful. And I should like +to see this Miss Vye--not so much for her good looks as for another +reason." + +"Must you go?" his mother asked. + +"I thought to." + +And they parted. "There is no help for it," murmured Clym's mother +gloomily as he withdrew. "They are sure to see each other. I wish +Sam would carry his news to other houses than mine." + +Clym's retreating figure got smaller and smaller as it rose and fell +over the hillocks on his way. "He is tender-hearted," said Mrs. +Yeobright to herself while she watched him; "otherwise it would matter +little. How he's going on!" + +He was, indeed, walking with a will over the furze, as straight as a +line, as if his life depended upon it. His mother drew a long breath, +and, abandoning the visit to Thomasin, turned back. The evening films +began to make nebulous pictures of the valleys, but the high lands +still were raked by the declining rays of the winter sun, which +glanced on Clym as he walked forward, eyed by every rabbit and +fieldfare around, a long shadow advancing in front of him. + +On drawing near to the furze-covered bank and ditch which fortified +the captain's dwelling he could hear voices within, signifying that +operations had been already begun. At the side-entrance gate he +stopped and looked over. + +Half a dozen able-bodied men were standing in a line from the +well-mouth, holding a rope which passed over the well-roller into the +depths below. Fairway, with a piece of smaller rope round his body, +made fast to one of the standards, to guard against accidents, was +leaning over the opening, his right hand clasping the vertical rope +that descended into the well. + +"Now, silence, folks," said Fairway. + +The talking ceased, and Fairway gave a circular motion to the rope, as +if he were stirring batter. At the end of a minute a dull splashing +reverberated from the bottom of the well; the helical twist he had +imparted to the rope had reached the grapnel below. + +"Haul!" said Fairway; and the men who held the rope began to gather it +over the wheel. + +"I think we've got sommat," said one of the haulers-in. + +"Then pull steady," said Fairway. + +They gathered up more and more, till a regular dripping into the well +could be heard below. It grew smarter with the increasing height of +the bucket, and presently a hundred and fifty feet of rope had been +pulled in. + +Fairway then lit a lantern, tied it to another cord, and began +lowering it into the well beside the first. Clym came forward and +looked down. Strange humid leaves, which knew nothing of the seasons +of the year, and quaint-natured mosses were revealed on the wellside +as the lantern descended; till its rays fell upon a confused mass of +rope and bucket dangling in the dank, dark air. + +"We've only got en by the edge of the hoop--steady, for God's sake!" +said Fairway. + +They pulled with the greatest gentleness, till the wet bucket appeared +about two yards below them, like a dead friend come to earth again. +Three or four hands were stretched out, then jerk went the rope, whizz +went the wheel, the two foremost haulers fell backward, the beating of +a falling body was heard, receding down the sides of the well, and a +thunderous uproar arose at the bottom. The bucket was gone again. + +"Damn the bucket!" said Fairway. + +"Lower again," said Sam. + +"I'm as stiff as a ram's horn stooping so long," said Fairway, +standing up and stretching himself till his joints creaked. + +"Rest a few minutes, Timothy," said Yeobright. "I'll take your +place." + +The grapnel was again lowered. Its smart impact upon the distant +water reached their ears like a kiss, whereupon Yeobright knelt down, +and leaning over the well began dragging the grapnel round and round +as Fairway had done. + +"Tie a rope round him--it is dangerous!" cried a soft and anxious +voice somewhere above them. + +Everybody turned. The speaker was a woman, gazing down upon the group +from an upper window, whose panes blazed in the ruddy glare from the +west. Her lips were parted and she appeared for the moment to forget +where she was. + +The rope was accordingly tied round his waist, and the work proceeded. +At the next haul the weight was not heavy, and it was discovered that +they had only secured a coil of the rope detached from the bucket. +The tangled mass was thrown into the background. Humphrey took +Yeobright's place, and the grapnel was lowered again. + +Yeobright retired to the heap of recovered rope in a meditative mood. +Of the identity between the lady's voice and that of the melancholy +mummer he had not a moment's doubt. "How thoughtful of her!" he said +to himself. + +Eustacia, who had reddened when she perceived the effect of her +exclamation upon the group below, was no longer to be seen at the +window, though Yeobright scanned it wistfully. While he stood there +the men at the well succeeded in getting up the bucket without a +mishap. One of them went to inquire for the captain, to learn what +orders he wished to give for mending the well-tackle. The captain +proved to be away from home, and Eustacia appeared at the door and +came out. She had lapsed into an easy and dignified calm, far removed +from the intensity of life in her words of solicitude for Clym's +safety. + +"Will it be possible to draw water here tonight?" she inquired. + +"No, miss; the bottom of the bucket is clean knocked out. And as we +can do no more now we'll leave off, and come again tomorrow morning." + +"No water," she murmured, turning away. + +"I can send you up some from Blooms-End," said Clym, coming forward +and raising his hat as the men retired. + +Yeobright and Eustacia looked at each other for one instant, as if +each had in mind those few moments during which a certain moonlight +scene was common to both. With the glance the calm fixity of her +features sublimed itself to an expression of refinement and warmth: +it was like garish noon rising to the dignity of sunset in a couple +of seconds. + +"Thank you; it will hardly be necessary," she replied. + +"But if you have no water?" + +"Well, it is what I call no water," she said, blushing, and lifting +her long-lashed eyelids as if to lift them were a work requiring +consideration. "But my grandfather calls it water enough. I'll show +you what I mean." + +She moved away a few yards, and Clym followed. When she reached the +corner of the enclosure, where the steps were formed for mounting the +boundary bank, she sprang up with a lightness which seemed strange +after her listless movement towards the well. It incidentally showed +that her apparent languor did not arise from lack of force. + +Clym ascended behind her, and noticed a circular burnt patch at the +top of the bank. "Ashes?" he said. + +"Yes," said Eustacia. "We had a little bonfire here last Fifth of +November, and those are the marks of it." + +On that spot had stood the fire she had kindled to attract Wildeve. + +"That's the only kind of water we have," she continued, tossing a +stone into the pool, which lay on the outside of the bank like the +white of an eye without its pupil. The stone fell with a flounce, +but no Wildeve appeared on the other side, as on a previous occasion +there. "My grandfather says he lived for more than twenty years at +sea on water twice as bad as that," she went on, "and considers it +quite good enough for us here on an emergency." + +"Well, as a matter of fact there are no impurities in the water of +these pools at this time of the year. It has only just rained into +them." + +She shook her head. "I am managing to exist in a wilderness, but I +cannot drink from a pond," she said. + +Clym looked towards the well, which was now deserted, the men having +gone home. "It is a long way to send for spring-water," he said, +after a silence. "But since you don't like this in the pond, I'll try +to get you some myself." He went back to the well. "Yes, I think I +could do it by tying on this pail." + +"But, since I would not trouble the men to get it, I cannot in +conscience let you." + +"I don't mind the trouble at all." + +He made fast the pail to the long coil of rope, put it over the wheel, +and allowed it to descend by letting the rope slip through his hands. +Before it had gone far, however, he checked it. + +"I must make fast the end first, or we may lose the whole," he said to +Eustacia, who had drawn near. "Could you hold this a moment, while I +do it--or shall I call your servant?" + +"I can hold it," said Eustacia; and he placed the rope in her hands, +going then to search for the end. + +"I suppose I may let it slip down?" she inquired. + +"I would advise you not to let it go far," said Clym. "It will get +much heavier, you will find." + +However, Eustacia had begun to pay out. While he was tying she cried, +"I cannot stop it!" + +Clym ran to her side, and found he could only check the rope by +twisting the loose part round the upright post, when it stopped with a +jerk. "Has it hurt you?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Very much?" + +"No; I think not." She opened her hands. One of them was bleeding; +the rope had dragged off the skin. Eustacia wrapped it in her +handkerchief. + +"You should have let go," said Yeobright. "Why didn't you?" + +"You said I was to hold on... This is the second time I have been +wounded today." + +"Ah, yes; I have heard of it. I blush for my native Egdon. Was it a +serious injury you received in church, Miss Vye?" + +There was such an abundance of sympathy in Clym's tone that Eustacia +slowly drew up her sleeve and disclosed her round white arm. A bright +red spot appeared on its smooth surface, like a ruby on Parian marble. + + +"There it is," she said, putting her finger against the spot. + +"It was dastardly of the woman," said Clym. "Will not Captain Vye get +her punished?" + +"He is gone from home on that very business. I did not know that I +had such a magic reputation." + +"And you fainted?" said Clym, looking at the scarlet little puncture +as if he would like to kiss it and make it well. + +"Yes, it frightened me. I had not been to church for a long time. +And now I shall not go again for ever so long--perhaps never. I +cannot face their eyes after this. Don't you think it dreadfully +humiliating? I wished I was dead for hours after, but I don't mind +now." + +"I have come to clean away these cobwebs," said Yeobright. "Would you +like to help me--by high-class teaching? We might benefit them much." + +"I don't quite feel anxious to. I have not much love for my +fellow-creatures. Sometimes I quite hate them." + +"Still I think that if you were to hear my scheme you might take an +interest in it. There is no use in hating people--if you hate +anything, you should hate what produced them." + +"Do you mean Nature? I hate her already. But I shall be glad to hear +your scheme at any time." + +The situation had now worked itself out, and the next natural thing +was for them to part. Clym knew this well enough, and Eustacia made a +move of conclusion; yet he looked at her as if he had one word more +to say. Perhaps if he had not lived in Paris it would never have been +uttered. + +"We have met before," he said, regarding her with rather more interest +than was necessary. + +"I do not own it," said Eustacia, with a repressed, still look. + +"But I may think what I like." + +"Yes." + +"You are lonely here." + +"I cannot endure the heath, except in its purple season. The heath is +a cruel taskmaster to me." + +"Can you say so?" he asked. "To my mind it is most exhilarating, and +strengthening, and soothing. I would rather live on these hills than +anywhere else in the world." + +"It is well enough for artists; but I never would learn to draw." + +"And there is a very curious Druidical stone just out there." He threw +a pebble in the direction signified. "Do you often go to see it?" + +"I was not even aware there existed any such curious Druidical stone. +I am aware that there are boulevards in Paris." + +Yeobright looked thoughtfully on the ground. "That means much," he +said. + +"It does indeed," said Eustacia. + +"I remember when I had the same longing for town bustle. Five years +of a great city would be a perfect cure for that." + +"Heaven send me such a cure! Now, Mr. Yeobright, I will go indoors and +plaster my wounded hand." + +They separated, and Eustacia vanished in the increasing shade. She +seemed full of many things. Her past was a blank, her life had begun. +The effect upon Clym of this meeting he did not fully discover till +some time after. During his walk home his most intelligible sensation +was that his scheme had somehow become glorified. A beautiful woman +had been intertwined with it. + +On reaching the house he went up to the room which was to be made his +study, and occupied himself during the evening in unpacking his books +from the boxes and arranging them on shelves. From another box he +drew a lamp and a can of oil. He trimmed the lamp, arranged his +table, and said, "Now, I am ready to begin." + +He rose early the next morning, read two hours before breakfast by the +light of his lamp--read all the morning, all the afternoon. Just when +the sun was going down his eyes felt weary, and he leant back in his +chair. + +His room overlooked the front of the premises and the valley of the +heath beyond. The lowest beams of the winter sun threw the shadow of +the house over the palings, across the grass margin of the heath, +and far up the vale, where the chimney outlines and those of the +surrounding treetops stretched forth in long dark prongs. Having +been seated at work all day, he decided to take a turn upon the hills +before it got dark; and, going out forthwith, he struck across the +heath towards Mistover. + +It was an hour and a half later when he again appeared at the garden +gate. The shutters of the house were closed, and Christian Cantle, +who had been wheeling manure about the garden all day, had gone home. +On entering he found that his mother, after waiting a long time for +him, had finished her meal. + +"Where have you been, Clym?" she immediately said. "Why didn't you +tell me that you were going away at this time?" + +"I have been on the heath." + +"You'll meet Eustacia Vye if you go up there." + +Clym paused a minute. "Yes, I met her this evening," he said, as +though it were spoken under the sheer necessity of preserving honesty. + +"I wondered if you had." + +"It was no appointment." + +"No; such meetings never are." + +"But you are not angry, mother?" + +"I can hardly say that I am not. Angry? No. But when I consider the +usual nature of the drag which causes men of promise to disappoint the +world I feel uneasy." + +"You deserve credit for the feeling, mother. But I can assure you +that you need not be disturbed by it on my account." + +"When I think of you and your new crotchets," said Mrs. Yeobright, +with some emphasis, "I naturally don't feel so comfortable as I did a +twelvemonth ago. It is incredible to me that a man accustomed to the +attractive women of Paris and elsewhere should be so easily worked +upon by a girl in a heath. You could just as well have walked another +way." + +"I had been studying all day." + +"Well, yes," she added more hopefully, "I have been thinking that you +might get on as a schoolmaster, and rise that way, since you really +are determined to hate the course you were pursuing." + +Yeobright was unwilling to disturb this idea, though his scheme was +far enough removed from one wherein the education of youth should be +made a mere channel of social ascent. He had no desires of that sort. +He had reached the stage in a young man's life when the grimness of +the general human situation first becomes clear; and the realization +of this causes ambition to halt awhile. In France it is not +uncustomary to commit suicide at this stage; in England we do much +better, or much worse, as the case may be. + +The love between the young man and his mother was strangely invisible +now. Of love it may be said, the less earthly the less demonstrative. +In its absolutely indestructible form it reaches a profundity in +which all exhibition of itself is painful. It was so with these. Had +conversations between them been overheard, people would have said, +"How cold they are to each other!" + +His theory and his wishes about devoting his future to teaching +had made an impression on Mrs. Yeobright. Indeed, how could it be +otherwise when he was a part of her--when their discourses were as if +carried on between the right and the left hands of the same body? He +had despaired of reaching her by argument; and it was almost as a +discovery to him that he could reach her by a magnetism which was as +superior to words as words are to yells. + +Strangely enough he began to feel now that it would not be so hard +to persuade her who was his best friend that comparative poverty was +essentially the higher course for him, as to reconcile to his feelings +the act of persuading her. From every provident point of view his +mother was so undoubtedly right, that he was not without a sickness of +heart in finding he could shake her. + +She had a singular insight into life, considering that she had never +mixed with it. There are instances of persons who, without clear +ideas of the things they criticize, have yet had clear ideas of the +relations of those things. Blacklock, a poet blind from his birth, +could describe visual objects with accuracy; Professor Sanderson, who +was also blind, gave excellent lectures on colour, and taught others +the theory of ideas which they had and he had not. In the social +sphere these gifted ones are mostly women; they can watch a world +which they never saw, and estimate forces of which they have only +heard. We call it intuition. + +What was the great world to Mrs. Yeobright? A multitude whose +tendencies could be perceived, though not its essences. Communities +were seen by her as from a distance; she saw them as we see the +throngs which cover the canvases of Sallaert, Van Alsloot, and +others of that school--vast masses of beings, jostling, zigzagging, +and processioning in definite directions, but whose features are +indistinguishable by the very comprehensiveness of the view. + +One could see that, as far as it had gone, her life was very complete +on its reflective side. The philosophy of her nature, and its +limitation by circumstances, was almost written in her movements. +They had a majestic foundation, though they were far from being +majestic; and they had a groundwork of assurance, but they were not +assured. As her once elastic walk had become deadened by time, so had +her natural pride of life been hindered in its blooming by her +necessities. + + + +The next slight touch in the shaping of Clym's destiny occurred a few +days after. A barrow was opened on the heath, and Yeobright attended +the operation, remaining away from his study during several hours. In +the afternoon Christian returned from a journey in the same direction, +and Mrs. Yeobright questioned him. + +"They have dug a hole, and they have found things like flowerpots +upside down, Mis'ess Yeobright; and inside these be real charnel +bones. They have carried 'em off to men's houses; but I shouldn't +like to sleep where they will bide. Dead folks have been known to come +and claim their own. Mr. Yeobright had got one pot of the bones, and +was going to bring 'em home--real skellington bones--but 'twas ordered +otherwise. You'll be relieved to hear that he gave away his pot +and all, on second thoughts; and a blessed thing for ye, Mis'ess +Yeobright, considering the wind o' nights." + +"Gave it away?" + +"Yes. To Miss Vye. She has a cannibal taste for such churchyard +furniture seemingly." + +"Miss Vye was there too?" + +"Ay, 'a b'lieve she was." + +When Clym came home, which was shortly after, his mother said, in a +curious tone, "The urn you had meant for me you gave away." + +Yeobright made no reply; the current of her feeling was too pronounced +to admit it. + +The early weeks of the year passed on. Yeobright certainly studied at +home, but he also walked much abroad, and the direction of his walk +was always towards some point of a line between Mistover and +Rainbarrow. + +The month of March arrived, and the heath showed its first signs of +awakening from winter trance. The awakening was almost feline in its +stealthiness. The pool outside the bank by Eustacia's dwelling, which +seemed as dead and desolate as ever to an observer who moved and made +noises in his observation, would gradually disclose a state of great +animation when silently watched awhile. A timid animal world had come +to life for the season. Little tadpoles and efts began to bubble up +through the water, and to race along beneath it; toads made noises +like very young ducks, and advanced to the margin in twos and threes; +overhead, bumble-bees flew hither and thither in the thickening light, +their drone coming and going like the sound of a gong. + +On an evening such as this Yeobright descended into the Blooms-End +valley from beside that very pool, where he had been standing with +another person quite silently and quite long enough to hear all this +puny stir of resurrection in nature; yet he had not heard it. His +walk was rapid as he came down, and he went with a springy tread. +Before entering upon his mother's premises he stopped and breathed. +The light which shone forth on him from the window revealed that +his face was flushed and his eye bright. What it did not show was +something which lingered upon his lips like a seal set there. The +abiding presence of this impress was so real that he hardly dared to +enter the house, for it seemed as if his mother might say, "What red +spot is that glowing upon your mouth so vividly?" + +But he entered soon after. The tea was ready, and he sat down +opposite his mother. She did not speak many words; and as for him, +something had been just done and some words had been just said on +the hill which prevented him from beginning a desultory chat. His +mother's taciturnity was not without ominousness, but he appeared not +to care. He knew why she said so little, but he could not remove the +cause of her bearing towards him. These half-silent sittings were far +from uncommon with them now. At last Yeobright made a beginning of +what was intended to strike at the whole root of the matter. + +"Five days have we sat like this at meals with scarcely a word. +What's the use of it, mother?" + +"None," said she, in a heart-swollen tone. "But there is only too +good a reason." + +"Not when you know all. I have been wanting to speak about this, and +I am glad the subject is begun. The reason, of course, is Eustacia +Vye. Well, I confess I have seen her lately, and have seen her a good +many times." + +"Yes, yes; and I know what that amounts to. It troubles me, Clym. +You are wasting your life here; and it is solely on account of her. +If it had not been for that woman you would never have entertained +this teaching scheme at all." + +Clym looked hard at his mother. "You know that is not it," he said. + +"Well, I know you had decided to attempt it before you saw her; but +that would have ended in intentions. It was very well to talk of, but +ridiculous to put in practice. I fully expected that in the course of +a month or two you would have seen the folly of such self-sacrifice, +and would have been by this time back again to Paris in some business +or other. I can understand objections to the diamond trade--I really +was thinking that it might be inadequate to the life of a man like you +even though it might have made you a millionaire. But now I see how +mistaken you are about this girl I doubt if you could be correct about +other things." + +"How am I mistaken in her?" + +"She is lazy and dissatisfied. But that is not all of it. Supposing +her to be as good a woman as any you can find, which she certainly is +not, why do you wish to connect yourself with anybody at present?" + +"Well, there are practical reasons," Clym began, and then almost broke +off under an overpowering sense of the weight of argument which could +be brought against his statement. "If I take a school an educated +woman would be invaluable as a help to me." + +"What! you really mean to marry her?" + +"It would be premature to state that plainly. But consider what +obvious advantages there would be in doing it. She--" + +"Don't suppose she has any money. She hasn't a farthing." + +"She is excellently educated, and would make a good matron in a +boarding-school. I candidly own that I have modified my views a +little, in deference to you; and it should satisfy you. I no longer +adhere to my intention of giving with my own mouth rudimentary +education to the lowest class. I can do better. I can establish a +good private school for farmers' sons, and without stopping the +school I can manage to pass examinations. By this means, and by the +assistance of a wife like her--" + +"Oh, Clym!" + +"I shall ultimately, I hope, be at the head of one of the best schools +in the county." + +Yeobright had enunciated the word "her" with a fervour which, in +conversation with a mother, was absurdly indiscreet. Hardly a +maternal heart within the four seas could, in such circumstances, have +helped being irritated at that ill-timed betrayal of feeling for a new +woman. + +"You are blinded, Clym," she said warmly. "It was a bad day for you +when you first set eyes on her. And your scheme is merely a castle in +the air built on purpose to justify this folly which has seized you, +and to salve your conscience on the irrational situation you are in." + +"Mother, that's not true," he firmly answered. + +"Can you maintain that I sit and tell untruths, when all I wish to do +is to save you from sorrow? For shame, Clym! But it is all through +that woman--a hussy!" + +Clym reddened like fire and rose. He placed his hand upon his +mother's shoulder and said, in a tone which hung strangely between +entreaty and command, "I won't hear it. I may be led to answer you in +a way which we shall both regret." + +His mother parted her lips to begin some other vehement truth, but on +looking at him she saw that in his face which led her to leave the +words unsaid. Yeobright walked once or twice across the room, and +then suddenly went out of the house. It was eleven o'clock when he +came in, though he had not been further than the precincts of the +garden. His mother was gone to bed. A light was left burning on the +table, and supper was spread. Without stopping for any food he +secured the doors and went upstairs. + + + + +IV + +An Hour of Bliss and Many Hours of Sadness + + +The next day was gloomy enough at Blooms-End. Yeobright remained in +his study, sitting over the open books; but the work of those hours +was miserably scant. Determined that there should be nothing in his +conduct towards his mother resembling sullenness, he had occasionally +spoken to her on passing matters, and would take no notice of the +brevity of her replies. With the same resolve to keep up a show of +conversation he said, about seven o'clock in the evening, "There's an +eclipse of the moon tonight. I am going out to see it." And, putting +on his overcoat, he left her. + +The low moon was not as yet visible from the front of the house, and +Yeobright climbed out of the valley until he stood in the full flood +of her light. But even now he walked on, and his steps were in the +direction of Rainbarrow. + +In half an hour he stood at the top. The sky was clear from verge to +verge, and the moon flung her rays over the whole heath, but without +sensibly lighting it, except where paths and water-courses had laid +bare the white flints and glistening quartz sand, which made streaks +upon the general shade. After standing awhile he stooped and felt the +heather. It was dry, and he flung himself down upon the barrow, his +face towards the moon, which depicted a small image of herself in each +of his eyes. + +He had often come up here without stating his purpose to his mother; +but this was the first time that he had been ostensibly frank as to +his purpose while really concealing it. It was a moral situation +which, three months earlier, he could hardly have credited of himself. +In returning to labour in this sequestered spot he had anticipated +an escape from the chafing of social necessities; yet behold they +were here also. More than ever he longed to be in some world where +personal ambition was not the only recognized form of progress--such, +perhaps, as might have been the case at some time or other in the +silvery globe then shining upon him. His eye travelled over the +length and breadth of that distant country--over the Bay of Rainbows, +the sombre Sea of Crises, the Ocean of Storms, the Lake of Dreams, the +vast Walled Plains, and the wondrous Ring Mountains--till he almost +felt himself to be voyaging bodily through its wild scenes, standing +on its hollow hills, traversing its deserts, descending its vales and +old sea bottoms, or mounting to the edges of its craters. + +While he watched the far-removed landscape a tawny stain grew into +being on the lower verge: the eclipse had begun. This marked a +preconcerted moment: for the remote celestial phenomenon had been +pressed into sublunary service as a lover's signal. Yeobright's mind +flew back to earth at the sight; he arose, shook himself and listened. +Minute after minute passed by, perhaps ten minutes passed, and the +shadow on the moon perceptibly widened. He heard a rustling on his +left hand, a cloaked figure with an upturned face appeared at the base +of the Barrow, and Clym descended. In a moment the figure was in his +arms, and his lips upon hers. + +"My Eustacia!" + +"Clym, dearest!" + +Such a situation had less than three months brought forth. + +They remained long without a single utterance, for no language could +reach the level of their condition: words were as the rusty implements +of a by-gone barbarous epoch, and only to be occasionally tolerated. + +"I began to wonder why you did not come," said Yeobright, when she had +withdrawn a little from his embrace. + +"You said ten minutes after the first mark of shade on the edge of the +moon, and that's what it is now." + +"Well, let us only think that here we are." + +Then, holding each other's hand, they were again silent, and the +shadow on the moon's disc grew a little larger. + +"Has it seemed long since you last saw me?" she asked. + +"It has seemed sad." + +"And not long? That's because you occupy yourself, and so blind +yourself to my absence. To me, who can do nothing, it has been like +living under stagnant water." + +"I would rather bear tediousness, dear, than have time made short by +such means as have shortened mine." + +"In what way is that? You have been thinking you wished you did not +love me." + +"How can a man wish that, and yet love on? No, Eustacia." + +"Men can, women cannot." + +"Well, whatever I may have thought, one thing is certain--I +do love you--past all compass and description. I love you to +oppressiveness--I, who have never before felt more than a pleasant +passing fancy for any woman I have ever seen. Let me look right into +your moonlit face and dwell on every line and curve in it! Only a +few hair-breadths make the difference between this face and faces I +have seen many times before I knew you; yet what a difference--the +difference between everything and nothing at all. One touch on that +mouth again! there, and there, and there. Your eyes seem heavy, +Eustacia." + +"No, it is my general way of looking. I think it arises from my +feeling sometimes an agonizing pity for myself that I ever was born." + +"You don't feel it now?" + +"No. Yet I know that we shall not love like this always. Nothing can +ensure the continuance of love. It will evaporate like a spirit, and +so I feel full of fears." + +"You need not." + +"Ah, you don't know. You have seen more than I, and have been into +cities and among people that I have only heard of, and have lived more +years than I; but yet I am older at this than you. I loved another +man once, and now I love you." + +"In God's mercy don't talk so, Eustacia!" + +"But I do not think I shall be the one who wearies first. It will, I +fear, end in this way: your mother will find out that you meet me, and +she will influence you against me!" + +"That can never be. She knows of these meetings already." + +"And she speaks against me?" + +"I will not say." + +"There, go away! Obey her. I shall ruin you. It is foolish of you to +meet me like this. Kiss me, and go away for ever. For ever--do you +hear?--for ever!" + +"Not I." + +"It is your only chance. Many a man's love has been a curse to him." + +"You are desperate, full of fancies, and wilful; and you +misunderstand. I have an additional reason for seeing you tonight +besides love of you. For though, unlike you, I feel our affection +may be eternal, I feel with you in this, that our present mode of +existence cannot last." + +"Oh! 'tis your mother. Yes, that's it! I knew it." + +"Never mind what it is. Believe this, I cannot let myself lose you. +I must have you always with me. This very evening I do not like to +let you go. There is only one cure for this anxiety, dearest--you +must be my wife." + +She started: then endeavoured to say calmly, "Cynics say that cures +the anxiety by curing the love." + +"But you must answer me. Shall I claim you some day--I don't mean at +once?" + +"I must think," Eustacia murmured. "At present speak of Paris to me. +Is there any place like it on earth?" + +"It is very beautiful. But will you be mine?" + +"I will be nobody else's in the world--does that satisfy you?" + +"Yes, for the present." + +"Now tell me of the Tuileries, and the Louvre," she continued +evasively. + +"I hate talking of Paris! Well, I remember one sunny room in the +Louvre which would make a fitting place for you to live in--the +Galerie d'Apollon. Its windows are mainly east; and in the early +morning, when the sun is bright, the whole apartment is in a perfect +blaze of splendour. The rays bristle and dart from the encrustations +of gilding to the magnificent inlaid coffers, from the coffers to +the gold and silver plate, from the plate to the jewels and precious +stones, from these to the enamels, till there is a perfect network of +light which quite dazzles the eye. But now, about our marriage--" + +"And Versailles--the King's Gallery is some such gorgeous room, is it +not?" + +"Yes. But what's the use of talking of gorgeous rooms? By the way, the +Little Trianon would suit us beautifully to live in, and you might +walk in the gardens in the moonlight and think you were in some +English shrubbery; it is laid out in English fashion." + +"I should hate to think that!" + +"Then you could keep to the lawn in front of the Grand Palace. +All about there you would doubtless feel in a world of historical +romance." + +He went on, since it was all new to her, and described Fontainebleau, +St. Cloud, the Bois, and many other familiar haunts of the Parisians; +till she said-- + +"When used you to go to these places?" + +"On Sundays." + +"Ah, yes. I dislike English Sundays. How I should chime in with +their manners over there! Dear Clym, you'll go back again?" + +Clym shook his head, and looked at the eclipse. + +"If you'll go back again I'll--be something," she said tenderly, +putting her head near his breast. "If you'll agree I'll give my +promise, without making you wait a minute longer." + +"How extraordinary that you and my mother should be of one mind about +this!" said Yeobright. "I have vowed not to go back, Eustacia. It is +not the place I dislike; it is the occupation." + +"But you can go in some other capacity." + +"No. Besides, it would interfere with my scheme. Don't press that, +Eustacia. Will you marry me?" + +"I cannot tell." + +"Now--never mind Paris; it is no better than other spots. Promise, +sweet!" + +"You will never adhere to your education plan, I am quite sure; and +then it will be all right for me; and so I promise to be yours for +ever and ever." + +Clym brought her face towards his by a gentle pressure of the hand, +and kissed her. + +"Ah! but you don't know what you have got in me," she said. +"Sometimes I think there is not that in Eustacia Vye which will make +a good homespun wife. Well, let it go--see how our time is slipping, +slipping, slipping!" She pointed towards the half eclipsed moon. + +"You are too mournful." + +"No. Only I dread to think of anything beyond the present. What is, we +know. We are together now, and it is unknown how long we shall be so; +the unknown always fills my mind with terrible possibilities, even +when I may reasonably expect it to be cheerful... Clym, the eclipsed +moonlight shines upon your face with a strange foreign colour, and +shows its shape as if it were cut out in gold. That means that you +should be doing better things than this." + +"You are ambitious, Eustacia--no, not exactly ambitious, luxurious. I +ought to be of the same vein, to make you happy, I suppose. And yet, +far from that, I could live and die in a hermitage here, with proper +work to do." + +There was that in his tone which implied distrust of his position as a +solicitous lover, a doubt if he were acting fairly towards one whose +tastes touched his own only at rare and infrequent points. She saw +his meaning, and whispered, in a low, full accent of eager assurance +"Don't mistake me, Clym: though I should like Paris, I love you for +yourself alone. To be your wife and live in Paris would be heaven to +me; but I would rather live with you in a hermitage here than not be +yours at all. It is gain to me either way, and very great gain. +There's my too candid confession." + +"Spoken like a woman. And now I must soon leave you. I'll walk with +you towards your house." + +"But must you go home yet?" she asked. "Yes, the sand has nearly +slipped away, I see, and the eclipse is creeping on more and more. +Don't go yet! Stop till the hour has run itself out; then I will not +press you any more. You will go home and sleep well; I keep sighing +in my sleep! Do you ever dream of me?" + +"I cannot recollect a clear dream of you." + +"I see your face in every scene of my dreams, and hear your voice in +every sound. I wish I did not. It is too much what I feel. They say +such love never lasts. But it must! And yet once, I remember, I saw +an officer of the Hussars ride down the street at Budmouth, and though +he was a total stranger and never spoke to me, I loved him till I +thought I should really die of love--but I didn't die, and at last I +left off caring for him. How terrible it would be if a time should +come when I could not love you, my Clym!" + +"Please don't say such reckless things. When we see such a time at +hand we will say, 'I have outlived my faith and purpose,' and die. +There, the hour has expired: now let us walk on." + +Hand in hand they went along the path towards Mistover. When they +were near the house he said, "It is too late for me to see your +grandfather tonight. Do you think he will object to it?" + +"I will speak to him. I am so accustomed to be my own mistress that +it did not occur to me that we should have to ask him." + +Then they lingeringly separated, and Clym descended towards +Blooms-End. + +And as he walked further and further from the charmed atmosphere of +his Olympian girl his face grew sad with a new sort of sadness. A +perception of the dilemma in which his love had placed him came back +in full force. In spite of Eustacia's apparent willingness to wait +through the period of an unpromising engagement, till he should be +established in his new pursuit, he could not but perceive at moments +that she loved him rather as a visitant from a gay world to which she +rightly belonged than as a man with a purpose opposed to that recent +past of his which so interested her. Often at their meetings a word or +a sigh escaped her. It meant that, though she made no conditions as to +his return to the French capital, this was what she secretly longed +for in the event of marriage; and it robbed him of many an otherwise +pleasant hour. Along with that came the widening breach between +himself and his mother. Whenever any little occurrence had brought +into more prominence than usual the disappointment that he was causing +her it had sent him on lone and moody walks; or he was kept awake +a great part of the night by the turmoil of spirit which such a +recognition created. If Mrs. Yeobright could only have been led to see +what a sound and worthy purpose this purpose of his was and how little +it was being affected by his devotions to Eustacia, how differently +would she regard him! + +Thus as his sight grew accustomed to the first blinding halo +kindled about him by love and beauty, Yeobright began to perceive +what a strait he was in. Sometimes he wished that he had never +known Eustacia, immediately to retract the wish as brutal. Three +antagonistic growths had to be kept alive: his mother's trust in him, +his plan for becoming a teacher, and Eustacia's happiness. His fervid +nature could not afford to relinquish one of these, though two of the +three were as many as he could hope to preserve. Though his love was +as chaste as that of Petrarch for his Laura, it had made fetters of +what previously was only a difficulty. A position which was not +too simple when he stood wholehearted had become indescribably +complicated by the addition of Eustacia. Just when his mother was +beginning to tolerate one scheme he had introduced another still +bitterer than the first, and the combination was more than she could +bear. + + + + +V + +Sharp Words Are Spoken, and a Crisis Ensues + + +When Yeobright was not with Eustacia he was sitting slavishly over +his books; when he was not reading he was meeting her. These meetings +were carried on with the greatest secrecy. + +One afternoon his mother came home from a morning visit to Thomasin. +He could see from a disturbance in the lines of her face that +something had happened. + +"I have been told an incomprehensible thing," she said mournfully. +"The captain has let out at the Woman that you and Eustacia Vye are +engaged to be married." + +"We are," said Yeobright. "But it may not be yet for a very long +time." + +"I should hardly think it WOULD be yet for a very long time! You will +take her to Paris, I suppose?" She spoke with weary hopelessness. + +"I am not going back to Paris." + +"What will you do with a wife, then?" + +"Keep a school in Budmouth, as I have told you." + +"That's incredible! The place is overrun with schoolmasters. You have +no special qualifications. What possible chance is there for such as +you?" + +"There is no chance of getting rich. But with my system of education, +which is as new as it is true, I shall do a great deal of good to my +fellow-creatures." + +"Dreams, dreams! If there had been any system left to be invented they +would have found it out at the universities long before this time." + +"Never, mother. They cannot find it out, because their teachers don't +come in contact with the class which demands such a system--that +is, those who have had no preliminary training. My plan is one for +instilling high knowledge into empty minds without first cramming them +with what has to be uncrammed again before true study begins." + +"I might have believed you if you had kept yourself free from +entanglements; but this woman--if she had been a good girl it would +have been bad enough; but being--" + +"She is a good girl." + +"So you think. A Corfu bandmaster's daughter! What has her life been? +Her surname even is not her true one." + +"She is Captain Vye's granddaughter, and her father merely took her +mother's name. And she is a lady by instinct." + +"They call him 'captain,' but anybody is captain." + +"He was in the Royal Navy!" + +"No doubt he has been to sea in some tub or other. Why doesn't he +look after her? No lady would rove about the heath at all hours of +the day and night as she does. But that's not all of it. There was +something queer between her and Thomasin's husband at one time--I am +as sure of it as that I stand here." + +"Eustacia has told me. He did pay her a little attention a year ago; +but there's no harm in that. I like her all the better." + +"Clym," said his mother with firmness, "I have no proofs against her, +unfortunately. But if she makes you a good wife, there has never been +a bad one." + +"Believe me, you are almost exasperating," said Yeobright vehemently. +"And this very day I had intended to arrange a meeting between you. +But you give me no peace; you try to thwart my wishes in everything." + +"I hate the thought of any son of mine marrying badly! I wish I had +never lived to see this; it is too much for me--it is more than I +dreamt!" She turned to the window. Her breath was coming quickly, and +her lips were pale, parted, and trembling. + +"Mother," said Clym, "whatever you do, you will always be dear to +me--that you know. But one thing I have a right to say, which is, +that at my age I am old enough to know what is best for me." + +Mrs. Yeobright remained for some time silent and shaken, as if she +could say no more. Then she replied, "Best? Is it best for you to +injure your prospects for such a voluptuous, idle woman as that? +Don't you see that by the very fact of your choosing her you prove +that you do not know what is best for you? You give up your whole +thought--you set your whole soul--to please a woman." + +"I do. And that woman is you." + +"How can you treat me so flippantly!" said his mother, turning again +to him with a tearful look. "You are unnatural, Clym, and I did not +expect it." + +"Very likely," said he cheerlessly. "You did not know the measure you +were going to mete me, and therefore did not know the measure that +would be returned to you again." + +"You answer me; you think only of her. You stick to her in all +things." + +"That proves her to be worthy. I have never yet supported what is +bad. And I do not care only for her. I care for you and for myself, +and for anything that is good. When a woman once dislikes another she +is merciless!" + +"O Clym! please don't go setting down as my fault what is your +obstinate wrong-headedness. If you wished to connect yourself with an +unworthy person why did you come home here to do it? Why didn't you +do it in Paris?--it is more the fashion there. You have come only to +distress me, a lonely woman, and shorten my days! I wish that you +would bestow your presence where you bestow your love!" + +Clym said huskily, "You are my mother. I will say no more--beyond +this, that I beg your pardon for having thought this my home. I will +no longer inflict myself upon you; I'll go." And he went out with +tears in his eyes. + +It was a sunny afternoon at the beginning of summer, and the moist +hollows of the heath had passed from their brown to their green stage. +Yeobright walked to the edge of the basin which extended down from +Mistover and Rainbarrow. By this time he was calm, and he looked +over the landscape. In the minor valleys, between the hillocks which +diversified the contour of the vale, the fresh young ferns were +luxuriantly growing up, ultimately to reach a height of five or six +feet. He descended a little way, flung himself down in a spot where a +path emerged from one of the small hollows, and waited. Hither it was +that he had promised Eustacia to bring his mother this afternoon, that +they might meet and be friends. His attempt had utterly failed. + +He was in a nest of vivid green. The ferny vegetation round him, +though so abundant, was quite uniform: it was a grove of machine-made +foliage, a world of green triangles with saw-edges, and not a single +flower. The air was warm with a vaporous warmth, and the stillness +was unbroken. Lizards, grasshoppers, and ants were the only living +things to be beheld. The scene seemed to belong to the ancient world +of the carboniferous period, when the forms of plants were few, and of +the fern kind; when there was neither bud nor blossom, nothing but a +monotonous extent of leafage, amid which no bird sang. + +When he had reclined for some considerable time, gloomily pondering, +he discerned above the ferns a drawn bonnet of white silk approaching +from the left, and Yeobright knew directly that it covered the head of +her he loved. His heart awoke from its apathy to a warm excitement, +and, jumping to his feet, he said aloud, "I knew she was sure to +come." + +She vanished in a hollow for a few moments, and then her whole form +unfolded itself from the brake. + +"Only you here?" she exclaimed, with a disappointed air, whose +hollowness was proved by her rising redness and her half-guilty low +laugh. "Where is Mrs. Yeobright?" + +"She has not come," he replied in a subdued tone. + +"I wish I had known that you would be here alone," she said seriously, +"and that we were going to have such an idle, pleasant time as this. +Pleasure not known beforehand is half wasted; to anticipate it is to +double it. I have not thought once today of having you all to myself +this afternoon, and the actual moment of a thing is so soon gone." + +"It is indeed." + +"Poor Clym!" she continued, looking tenderly into his face. "You are +sad. Something has happened at your home. Never mind what is--let us +only look at what seems." + +"But, darling, what shall we do?" said he. + +"Still go on as we do now--just live on from meeting to meeting, +never minding about another day. You, I know, are always thinking of +that--I can see you are. But you must not--will you, dear Clym?" + +"You are just like all women. They are ever content to build their +lives on any incidental position that offers itself; whilst men would +fain make a globe to suit them. Listen to this, Eustacia. There is a +subject I have determined to put off no longer. Your sentiment on the +wisdom of _Carpe diem_ does not impress me today. Our present mode of +life must shortly be brought to an end." + +"It is your mother!" + +"It is. I love you none the less in telling you; it is only right you +should know." + +"I have feared my bliss," she said, with the merest motion of her +lips. "It has been too intense and consuming." + +"There is hope yet. There are forty years of work in me yet, and why +should you despair? I am only at an awkward turning. I wish people +wouldn't be so ready to think that there is no progress without +uniformity." + +"Ah--your mind runs off to the philosophical side of it. Well, these +sad and hopeless obstacles are welcome in one sense, for they enable +us to look with indifference upon the cruel satires that Fate loves +to indulge in. I have heard of people, who, upon coming suddenly into +happiness, have died from anxiety lest they should not live to enjoy +it. I felt myself in that whimsical state of uneasiness lately; but I +shall be spared it now. Let us walk on." + +Clym took the hand which was already bared for him--it was a favourite +way with them to walk bare hand in bare hand--and led her through the +ferns. They formed a very comely picture of love at full flush, as +they walked along the valley that late afternoon, the sun sloping down +on their right, and throwing their thin spectral shadows, tall as +poplar trees, far out across the furze and fern. Eustacia went with +her head thrown back fancifully, a certain glad and voluptuous air of +triumph pervading her eyes at having won by her own unaided self a man +who was her perfect complement in attainment, appearance, and age. On +the young man's part, the paleness of face which he had brought with +him from Paris, and the incipient marks of time and thought, were +less perceptible than when he returned, the healthful and energetic +sturdiness which was his by nature having partially recovered its +original proportions. They wandered onward till they reached the +nether margin of the heath, where it became marshy and merged in +moorland. + +"I must part from you here, Clym," said Eustacia. + +They stood still and prepared to bid each other farewell. Everything +before them was on a perfect level. The sun, resting on the horizon +line, streamed across the ground from between copper-coloured and +lilac clouds, stretched out in flats beneath a sky of pale soft green. +All dark objects on the earth that lay towards the sun were overspread +by a purple haze, against which groups of wailing gnats shone out, +rising upwards and dancing about like sparks of fire. + +"O! this leaving you is too hard to bear!" exclaimed Eustacia in a +sudden whisper of anguish. "Your mother will influence you too much; +I shall not be judged fairly, it will get afloat that I am not a good +girl, and the witch story will be added to make me blacker!" + +"They cannot. Nobody dares to speak disrespectfully of you or of me." + +"Oh how I wish I was sure of never losing you--that you could not be +able to desert me anyhow!" + +Clym stood silent a moment. His feelings were high, the moment was +passionate, and he cut the knot. + +"You shall be sure of me, darling," he said, folding her in his arms. +"We will be married at once." + +"O Clym!" + +"Do you agree to it?" + +"If--if we can." + +"We certainly can, both being of full age. And I have not followed my +occupation all these years without having accumulated money; and if +you will agree to live in a tiny cottage somewhere on the heath, until +I take a house in Budmouth for the school, we can do it at a very +little expense." + +"How long shall we have to live in the tiny cottage, Clym?" + +"About six months. At the end of that time I shall have finished my +reading--yes, we will do it, and this heartaching will be over. We +shall, of course, live in absolute seclusion, and our married life +will only begin to outward view when we take the house in Budmouth, +where I have already addressed a letter on the matter. Would your +grandfather allow you?" + +"I think he would--on the understanding that it should not last longer +than six months." + +"I will guarantee that, if no misfortune happens." + +"If no misfortune happens," she repeated slowly. + +"Which is not likely. Dearest, fix the exact day." + +And then they consulted on the question, and the day was chosen. It +was to be a fortnight from that time. + +This was the end of their talk, and Eustacia left him. Clym watched +her as she retired towards the sun. The luminous rays wrapped her up +with her increasing distance, and the rustle of her dress over the +sprouting sedge and grass died away. As he watched, the dead flat +of the scenery overpowered him, though he was fully alive to the +beauty of that untarnished early summer green which was worn for the +nonce by the poorest blade. There was something in its oppressive +horizontality which too much reminded him of the arena of life; it +gave him a sense of bare equality with, and no superiority to, a +single living thing under the sun. + +Eustacia was now no longer the goddess but the woman to him, a being +to fight for, support, help, be maligned for. Now that he had reached +a cooler moment he would have preferred a less hasty marriage; but +the card was laid, and he determined to abide by the game. Whether +Eustacia was to add one other to the list of those who love too hotly +to love long and well, the forthcoming event was certainly a ready way +of proving. + + + + +VI + +Yeobright Goes, and the Breach Is Complete + + +All that evening smart sounds denoting an active packing up came from +Yeobright's room to the ears of his mother downstairs. + +Next morning he departed from the house and again proceeded across the +heath. A long day's march was before him, his object being to secure +a dwelling to which he might take Eustacia when she became his wife. +Such a house, small, secluded, and with its windows boarded up, he had +casually observed a month earlier, about two miles beyond the village +of East Egdon, and six miles distant altogether; and thither he +directed his steps today. + +The weather was far different from that of the evening before. The +yellow and vapoury sunset which had wrapped up Eustacia from his +parting gaze had presaged change. It was one of those not infrequent +days of an English June which are as wet and boisterous as November. +The cold clouds hastened on in a body, as if painted on a moving +slide. Vapours from other continents arrived upon the wind, which +curled and parted round him as he walked on. + +At length Clym reached the margin of a fir and beech plantation that +had been enclosed from heath land in the year of his birth. Here +the trees, laden heavily with their new and humid leaves, were now +suffering more damage than during the highest winds of winter, +when the boughs are especially disencumbered to do battle with the +storm. The wet young beeches were undergoing amputations, bruises, +cripplings, and harsh lacerations, from which the wasting sap would +bleed for many a day to come, and which would leave scars visible till +the day of their burning. Each stem was wrenched at the root, where +it moved like a bone in its socket, and at every onset of the gale +convulsive sounds came from the branches, as if pain were felt. In a +neighbouring brake a finch was trying to sing; but the wind blew under +his feathers till they stood on end, twisted round his little tail, +and made him give up his song. + +Yet a few yards to Yeobright's left, on the open heath, how +ineffectively gnashed the storm! Those gusts which tore the trees +merely waved the furze and heather in a light caress. Egdon was made +for such times as these. + +Yeobright reached the empty house about mid-day. It was almost as +lonely as that of Eustacia's grandfather, but the fact that it stood +near a heath was disguised by a belt of firs which almost enclosed +the premises. He journeyed on about a mile further to the village +in which the owner lived, and, returning with him to the house, +arrangements were completed, and the man undertook that one room at +least should be ready for occupation the next day. Clym's intention +was to live there alone until Eustacia should join him on their +wedding day. + +Then he turned to pursue his way homeward through the drizzle that had +so greatly transformed the scene. The ferns, among which he had lain +in comfort yesterday, were dripping moisture from every frond, wetting +his legs through as he brushed past; and the fur of the rabbits +leaping before him was clotted into dark locks by the same watery +surrounding. + +He reached home damp and weary enough after his ten-mile walk. It +had hardly been a propitious beginning, but he had chosen his course, +and would show no swerving. The evening and the following morning +were spent in concluding arrangements for his departure. To stay at +home a minute longer than necessary after having once come to his +determination would be, he felt, only to give new pain to his mother +by some word, look, or deed. + +He had hired a conveyance and sent off his goods by two o'clock that +day. The next step was to get some furniture, which, after serving +for temporary use in the cottage, would be available for the house +at Budmouth when increased by goods of a better description. A mart +extensive enough for the purpose existed at Anglebury, some miles +beyond the spot chosen for his residence, and there he resolved to +pass the coming night. + +It now only remained to wish his mother good-bye. She was sitting by +the window as usual when he came downstairs. + +"Mother, I am going to leave you," he said, holding out his hand. + +"I thought you were, by your packing," replied Mrs. Yeobright in a +voice from which every particle of emotion was painfully excluded. + +"And you will part friends with me?" + +"Certainly, Clym." + +"I am going to be married on the twenty-fifth." + +"I thought you were going to be married." + +"And then--and then you must come and see us. You will understand me +better after that, and our situation will not be so wretched as it is +now." + +"I do not think it likely I shall come to see you." + +"Then it will not be my fault or Eustacia's, mother. Good-bye!" + +He kissed her cheek, and departed in great misery, which was several +hours in lessening itself to a controllable level. The position had +been such that nothing more could be said without, in the first place, +breaking down a barrier; and that was not to be done. + +No sooner had Yeobright gone from his mother's house than her face +changed its rigid aspect for one of blank despair. After a while she +wept, and her tears brought some relief. During the rest of the day +she did nothing but walk up and down the garden path in a state +bordering on stupefaction. Night came, and with it but little rest. +The next day, with an instinct to do something which should reduce +prostration to mournfulness, she went to her son's room, and with her +own hands arranged it in order, for an imaginary time when he should +return again. She gave some attention to her flowers, but it was +perfunctorily bestowed, for they no longer charmed her. + +It was a great relief when, early in the afternoon, Thomasin paid +her an unexpected visit. This was not the first meeting between the +relatives since Thomasin's marriage; and past blunders having been +in a rough way rectified, they could always greet each other with +pleasure and ease. + +The oblique band of sunlight which followed her through the door +became the young wife well. It illuminated her as her presence +illuminated the heath. In her movements, in her gaze, she reminded +the beholder of the feathered creatures who lived around her home. +All similes and allegories concerning her began and ended with birds. +There was as much variety in her motions as in their flight. When she +was musing she was a kestrel, which hangs in the air by an invisible +motion of its wings. When she was in a high wind her light body was +blown against trees and banks like a heron's. When she was frightened +she darted noiselessly like a kingfisher. When she was serene she +skimmed like a swallow, and that is how she was moving now. + +"You are looking very blithe, upon my word, Tamsie," said Mrs. +Yeobright, with a sad smile. "How is Damon?" + +"He is very well." + +"Is he kind to you, Thomasin?" And Mrs. Yeobright observed her +narrowly. + +"Pretty fairly." + +"Is that honestly said?" + +"Yes, aunt. I would tell you if he were unkind." She added, blushing, +and with hesitation, "He--I don't know if I ought to complain to you +about this, but I am not quite sure what to do. I want some money, +you know, aunt--some to buy little things for myself--and he doesn't +give me any. I don't like to ask him; and yet, perhaps, he doesn't +give it me because he doesn't know. Ought I to mention it to him, +aunt?" + +"Of course you ought. Have you never said a word on the matter?" + +"You see, I had some of my own," said Thomasin evasively, "and I have +not wanted any of his until lately. I did just say something about it +last week; but he seems--not to remember." + +"He must be made to remember. You are aware that I have a little box +full of spade-guineas, which your uncle put into my hands to divide +between yourself and Clym whenever I chose. Perhaps the time has come +when it should be done. They can be turned into sovereigns at any +moment." + +"I think I should like to have my share--that is, if you don't mind." + +"You shall, if necessary. But it is only proper that you should first +tell your husband distinctly that you are without any, and see what he +will do." + +"Very well, I will... Aunt, I have heard about Clym. I know you are +in trouble about him, and that's why I have come." + +Mrs. Yeobright turned away, and her features worked in her attempt to +conceal her feelings. Then she ceased to make any attempt, and said, +weeping, "O Thomasin, do you think he hates me? How can he bear to +grieve me so, when I have lived only for him through all these years?" + +"Hate you--no," said Thomasin soothingly. "It is only that he loves +her too well. Look at it quietly--do. It is not so very bad of him. +Do you know, I thought it not the worst match he could have made. +Miss Vye's family is a good one on her mother's side; and her father +was a romantic wanderer--a sort of Greek Ulysses." + +"It is no use, Thomasin; it is no use. Your intention is good; but +I will not trouble you to argue. I have gone through the whole that +can be said on either side times, and many times. Clym and I have +not parted in anger; we have parted in a worse way. It is not a +passionate quarrel that would have broken my heart; it is the steady +opposition and persistence in going wrong that he has shown. O +Thomasin, he was so good as a little boy--so tender and kind!" + +"He was, I know." + +"I did not think one whom I called mine would grow up to treat me like +this. He spoke to me as if I opposed him to injure him. As though I +could wish him ill!" + +"There are worse women in the world than Eustacia Vye." + +"There are too many better; that's the agony of it. It was she, +Thomasin, and she only, who led your husband to act as he did: I would +swear it!" + +"No," said Thomasin eagerly. "It was before he knew me that he +thought of her, and it was nothing but a mere flirtation." + +"Very well; we will let it be so. There is little use in unravelling +that now. Sons must be blind if they will. Why is it that a woman +can see from a distance what a man cannot see close? Clym must do as +he will--he is nothing more to me. And this is maternity--to give +one's best years and best love to ensure the fate of being despised!" + +"You are too unyielding. Think how many mothers there are whose sons +have brought them to public shame by real crimes before you feel so +deeply a case like this." + +"Thomasin, don't lecture me--I can't have it. It is the excess above +what we expect that makes the force of the blow, and that may not +be greater in their case than in mine: they may have foreseen the +worst... I am wrongly made, Thomasin," she added, with a mournful +smile. "Some widows can guard against the wounds their children give +them by turning their hearts to another husband and beginning life +again. But I always was a poor, weak, one-idea'd creature--I had not +the compass of heart nor the enterprise for that. Just as forlorn and +stupefied as I was when my husband's spirit flew away I have sat ever +since--never attempting to mend matters at all. I was comparatively a +young woman then, and I might have had another family by this time, +and have been comforted by them for the failure of this one son." + +"It is more noble in you that you did not." + +"The more noble, the less wise." + +"Forget it, and be soothed, dear aunt. And I shall not leave you +alone for long. I shall come and see you every day." + +And for one week Thomasin literally fulfilled her word. She +endeavoured to make light of the wedding; and brought news of the +preparations, and that she was invited to be present. The next week +she was rather unwell, and did not appear. Nothing had as yet been +done about the guineas, for Thomasin feared to address her husband +again on the subject, and Mrs. Yeobright had insisted upon this. + + + +One day just before this time Wildeve was standing at the door of +the Quiet Woman. In addition to the upward path through the heath to +Rainbarrow and Mistover, there was a road which branched from the +highway a short distance below the inn, and ascended to Mistover by a +circuitous and easy incline. This was the only route on that side for +vehicles to the captain's retreat. A light cart from the nearest town +descended the road, and the lad who was driving pulled up in front of +the inn for something to drink. + +"You come from Mistover?" said Wildeve. + +"Yes. They are taking in good things up there. Going to be a +wedding." And the driver buried his face in his mug. + +Wildeve had not received an inkling of the fact before, and a sudden +expression of pain overspread his face. He turned for a moment into +the passage to hide it. Then he came back again. + +"Do you mean Miss Vye?" he said. "How is it--that she can be married +so soon?" + +"By the will of God and a ready young man, I suppose." + +"You don't mean Mr. Yeobright?" + +"Yes. He has been creeping about with her all the spring." + +"I suppose--she was immensely taken with him?" + +"She is crazy about him, so their general servant of all work tells +me. And that lad Charley that looks after the horse is all in a daze +about it. The stun-poll has got fondlike of her." + +"Is she lively--is she glad? Going to be married so soon--well!" + +"It isn't so very soon." + +"No; not so very soon." + +Wildeve went indoors to the empty room, a curious heartache within +him. He rested his elbow upon the mantelpiece and his face upon his +hand. When Thomasin entered the room he did not tell her of what +he had heard. The old longing for Eustacia had reappeared in his +soul; and it was mainly because he had discovered that it was another +man's intention to possess her. + +To be yearning for the difficult, to be weary of that offered; to care +for the remote, to dislike the near; it was Wildeve's nature always. +This is the true mark of the man of sentiment. Though Wildeve's +fevered feeling had not been elaborated to real poetical compass, it +was of the standard sort. He might have been called the Rousseau of +Egdon. + + + + +VII + +The Morning and the Evening of a Day + + +The wedding morning came. Nobody would have imagined from appearances +that Blooms-End had any interest in Mistover that day. A solemn +stillness prevailed around the house of Clym's mother, and there +was no more animation indoors. Mrs. Yeobright, who had declined to +attend the ceremony, sat by the breakfast table in the old room which +communicated immediately with the porch, her eyes listlessly directed +towards the open door. It was the room in which, six months earlier, +the merry Christmas party had met, to which Eustacia came secretly and +as a stranger. The only living thing that entered now was a sparrow; +and seeing no movements to cause alarm, he hopped boldly round the +room, endeavoured to go out by the window, and fluttered among the +pot-flowers. This roused the lonely sitter, who got up, released +the bird, and went to the door. She was expecting Thomasin, who had +written the night before to state that the time had come when she +would wish to have the money, and that she would if possible call this +day. + +Yet Thomasin occupied Mrs. Yeobright's thoughts but slightly as she +looked up the valley of the heath, alive with butterflies, and with +grasshoppers whose husky noises on every side formed a whispered +chorus. A domestic drama, for which the preparations were now being +made a mile or two off, was but little less vividly present to her +eyes than if enacted before her. She tried to dismiss the vision, and +walked about the garden plot; but her eyes ever and anon sought out +the direction of the parish church to which Mistover belonged, and +her excited fancy clove the hills which divided the building from +her eyes. The morning wore away. Eleven o'clock struck: could it +be that the wedding was then in progress? It must be so. She went +on imagining the scene at the church, which he had by this time +approached with his bride. She pictured the little group of children +by the gate as the pony-carriage drove up in which, as Thomasin had +learnt, they were going to perform the short journey. Then she saw +them enter and proceed to the chancel and kneel; and the service +seemed to go on. + +She covered her face with her hands. "O, it is a mistake!" she +groaned. "And he will rue it some day, and think of me!" + +While she remained thus, overcome by her forebodings, the old clock +indoors whizzed forth twelve strokes. Soon after, faint sounds floated +to her ear from afar over the hills. The breeze came from that +quarter, and it had brought with it the notes of distant bells, gaily +starting off in a peal: one, two, three, four, five. The ringers at +East Egdon were announcing the nuptials of Eustacia and her son. + +"Then it is over," she murmured. "Well, well! and life too will be +over soon. And why should I go on scalding my face like this? Cry +about one thing in life, cry about all; one thread runs through the +whole piece. And yet we say, 'a time to laugh!'" + +Towards evening Wildeve came. Since Thomasin's marriage Mrs. Yeobright +had shown towards him that grim friendliness which at last arises in +all such cases of undesired affinity. The vision of what ought to +have been is thrown aside in sheer weariness, and browbeaten human +endeavour listlessly makes the best of the fact that is. Wildeve, to +do him justice, had behaved very courteously to his wife's aunt; and +it was with no surprise that she saw him enter now. + +"Thomasin has not been able to come, as she promised to do," he +replied to her inquiry, which had been anxious, for she knew that +her niece was badly in want of money. "The captain came down last +night and personally pressed her to join them today. So, not to be +unpleasant, she determined to go. They fetched her in the pony-chaise, +and are going to bring her back." + +"Then it is done," said Mrs. Yeobright. "Have they gone to their new +home?" + +"I don't know. I have had no news from Mistover since Thomasin left +to go." + +"You did not go with her?" said she, as if there might be good reasons +why. + +"I could not," said Wildeve, reddening slightly. "We could not both +leave the house; it was rather a busy morning, on account of Anglebury +Great Market. I believe you have something to give to Thomasin? If +you like, I will take it." + +Mrs. Yeobright hesitated, and wondered if Wildeve knew what the +something was. "Did she tell you of this?" she inquired. + +"Not particularly. She casually dropped a remark about having +arranged to fetch some article or other." + +"It is hardly necessary to send it. She can have it whenever she +chooses to come." + +"That won't be yet. In the present state of her health she must not +go on walking so much as she has done." He added, with a faint twang +of sarcasm, "What wonderful thing is it that I cannot be trusted to +take?" + +"Nothing worth troubling you with." + +"One would think you doubted my honesty," he said, with a laugh, +though his colour rose in a quick resentfulness frequent with him. + +"You need think no such thing," said she drily. "It is simply that +I, in common with the rest of the world, feel that there are certain +things which had better be done by certain people than by others." + +"As you like, as you like," said Wildeve laconically. "It is not +worth arguing about. Well, I think I must turn homeward again, as the +inn must not be left long in charge of the lad and the maid only." + +He went his way, his farewell being scarcely so courteous as his +greeting. But Mrs. Yeobright knew him thoroughly by this time, and +took little notice of his manner, good or bad. + +When Wildeve was gone Mrs. Yeobright stood and considered what would +be the best course to adopt with regard to the guineas, which she had +not liked to entrust to Wildeve. It was hardly credible that Thomasin +had told him to ask for them, when the necessity for them had arisen +from the difficulty of obtaining money at his hands. At the same time +Thomasin really wanted them, and might be unable to come to Blooms-End +for another week at least. To take or send the money to her at the +inn would be impolite, since Wildeve would pretty surely be present, +or would discover the transaction; and if, as her aunt suspected, he +treated her less kindly than she deserved to be treated, he might then +get the whole sum out of her gentle hands. But on this particular +evening Thomasin was at Mistover, and anything might be conveyed to +her there without the knowledge of her husband. Upon the whole the +opportunity was worth taking advantage of. + +Her son, too, was there, and was now married. There could be no more +proper moment to render him his share of the money than the present. +And the chance that would be afforded her, by sending him this gift, +of showing how far she was from bearing him ill-will, cheered the sad +mother's heart. + +She went upstairs and took from a locked drawer a little box, out of +which she poured a hoard of broad unworn guineas that had lain there +many a year. There were a hundred in all, and she divided them into +two heaps, fifty in each. Tying up these in small canvas bags, she +went down to the garden and called to Christian Cantle, who was +loitering about in hope of a supper which was not really owed him. +Mrs. Yeobright gave him the moneybags, charged him to go to Mistover, +and on no account to deliver them into any one's hands save her son's +and Thomasin's. On further thought she deemed it advisable to tell +Christian precisely what the two bags contained, that he might +be fully impressed with their importance. Christian pocketed the +money-bags, promised the greatest carefulness, and set out on his way. + +"You need not hurry," said Mrs. Yeobright. "It will be better not to +get there till after dusk, and then nobody will notice you. Come back +here to supper, if it is not too late." + +It was nearly nine o'clock when he began to ascend the vale towards +Mistover; but the long days of summer being at their climax, the first +obscurity of evening had only just begun to tan the landscape. At +this point of his journey Christian heard voices, and found that they +proceeded from a company of men and women who were traversing a hollow +ahead of him, the tops only of their heads being visible. + +He paused and thought of the money he carried. It was almost too +early even for Christian seriously to fear robbery; nevertheless he +took a precaution which ever since his boyhood he had adopted whenever +he carried more than two or three shillings upon his person--a +precaution somewhat like that of the owner of the Pitt Diamond when +filled with similar misgivings. He took off his boots, untied the +guineas, and emptied the contents of one little bag into the right +boot, and of the other into the left, spreading them as flatly as +possible over the bottom of each, which was really a spacious coffer +by no means limited to the size of the foot. Pulling them on again +and lacing them to the very top, he proceeded on his way, more easy +in his head than under his soles. + +His path converged towards that of the noisy company, and on coming +nearer he found to his relief that they were several Egdon people whom +he knew very well, while with them walked Fairway, of Blooms-End. + +"What! Christian going too?" said Fairway as soon as he recognized the +newcomer. "You've got no young woman nor wife to your name to gie a +gown-piece to, I'm sure." + +"What d'ye mean?" said Christian. + +"Why, the raffle. The one we go to every year. Going to the raffle +as well as ourselves?" + +"Never knew a word o't. Is it like cudgel-playing or other sportful +forms of bloodshed? I don't want to go, thank you, Mister Fairway, +and no offence." + +"Christian don't know the fun o't, and 'twould be a fine sight for +him," said a buxom woman. "There's no danger at all, Christian. +Every man puts in a shilling apiece, and one wins a gown-piece for +his wife or sweetheart if he's got one." + +"Well, as that's not my fortune there's no meaning in it to me. But I +should like to see the fun, if there's nothing of the black art in it, +and if a man may look on without cost or getting into any dangerous +wrangle?" + +"There will be no uproar at all," said Timothy. "Sure, Christian, if +you'd like to come we'll see there's no harm done." + +"And no ba'dy gaieties, I suppose? You see, neighbours, if so, it +would be setting father a bad example, as he is so light moral'd. But +a gown-piece for a shilling, and no black art--'tis worth looking +in to see, and it wouldn't hinder me half an hour. Yes, I'll come, +if you'll step a little way towards Mistover with me afterwards, +supposing night should have closed in, and nobody else is going that +way?" + +One or two promised; and Christian, diverging from his direct path, +turned round to the right with his companions towards the Quiet Woman. + +When they entered the large common room of the inn they found +assembled there about ten men from among the neighbouring population, +and the group was increased by the new contingent to double that +number. Most of them were sitting round the room in seats divided by +wooden elbows like those of crude cathedral stalls, which were carved +with the initials of many an illustrious drunkard of former times who +had passed his days and his nights between them, and now lay as an +alcoholic cinder in the nearest churchyard. Among the cups on the +long table before the sitters lay an open parcel of light drapery--the +gown-piece, as it was called--which was to be raffled for. Wildeve +was standing with his back to the fireplace smoking a cigar; and the +promoter of the raffle, a packman from a distant town, was expatiating +upon the value of the fabric as material for a summer dress. + +"Now, gentlemen," he continued, as the newcomers drew up to the table, +"there's five have entered, and we want four more to make up the +number. I think, by the faces of those gentlemen who have just come +in, that they are shrewd enough to take advantage of this rare +opportunity of beautifying their ladies at a very trifling expense." + +Fairway, Sam, and another placed their shillings on the table, and the +man turned to Christian. + +"No, sir," said Christian, drawing back, with a quick gaze of +misgiving. "I am only a poor chap come to look on, an it please ye, +sir. I don't so much as know how you do it. If so be I was sure of +getting it I would put down the shilling; but I couldn't otherwise." + +"I think you might almost be sure," said the pedlar. "In fact, now I +look into your face, even if I can't say you are sure to win, I can +say that I never saw anything look more like winning in my life." + +"You'll anyhow have the same chance as the rest of us," said Sam. + +"And the extra luck of being the last comer," said another. + +"And I was born wi' a caul, and perhaps can be no more ruined than +drowned?" Christian added, beginning to give way. + +Ultimately Christian laid down his shilling, the raffle began, and +the dice went round. When it came to Christian's turn he took the box +with a trembling hand, shook it fearfully, and threw a pair-royal. +Three of the others had thrown common low pairs, and all the rest mere +points. + +"The gentleman looked like winning, as I said," observed the chapman +blandly. "Take it, sir; the article is yours." + +"Haw-haw-haw!" said Fairway. "I'm damned if this isn't the quarest +start that ever I knowed!" + +"Mine?" asked Christian, with a vacant stare from his target eyes. +"I--I haven't got neither maid, wife, nor widder belonging to me at +all, and I'm afeard it will make me laughed at to ha'e it, Master +Traveller. What with being curious to join in I never thought of that! +What shall I do wi' a woman's clothes in my bedroom, and not lose my +decency!" + +"Keep 'em, to be sure," said Fairway, "if it is only for luck. +Perhaps 'twill tempt some woman that thy poor carcase had no power +over when standing empty-handed." + +"Keep it, certainly," said Wildeve, who had idly watched the scene +from a distance. + +The table was then cleared of the articles, and the men began to +drink. + +"Well, to be sure!" said Christian, half to himself. "To think I +should have been born so lucky as this, and not have found it out +until now! What curious creatures these dice be--powerful rulers of +us all, and yet at my command! I am sure I never need be afeared of +anything after this." He handled the dice fondly one by one. "Why, +sir," he said in a confidential whisper to Wildeve, who was near his +left hand, "if I could only use this power that's in me of multiplying +money I might do some good to a near relation of yours, seeing what +I've got about me of hers--eh?" He tapped one of his money-laden boots +upon the floor. + +"What do you mean?" said Wildeve. + +"That's a secret. Well, I must be going now." He looked anxiously +towards Fairway. + +"Where are you going?" Wildeve asked. + +"To Mistover Knap. I have to see Mrs. Thomasin there--that's all." + +"I am going there, too, to fetch Mrs. Wildeve. We can walk together." + +Wildeve became lost in thought, and a look of inward illumination came +into his eyes. It was money for his wife that Mrs. Yeobright could +not trust him with. "Yet she could trust this fellow," he said to +himself. "Why doesn't that which belongs to the wife belong to the +husband too?" + +He called to the pot-boy to bring him his hat, and said, "Now, +Christian, I am ready." + +"Mr. Wildeve," said Christian timidly, as he turned to leave the room, +"would you mind lending me them wonderful little things that carry my +luck inside 'em, that I might practise a bit by myself, you know?" He +looked wistfully at the dice and box lying on the mantlepiece. + +"Certainly," said Wildeve carelessly. "They were only cut out by some +lad with his knife, and are worth nothing." And Christian went back +and privately pocketed them. + +Wildeve opened the door and looked out. The night was warm and +cloudy. "By Gad! 'tis dark," he continued. "But I suppose we shall +find our way." + +"If we should lose the path it might be awkward," said Christian. "A +lantern is the only shield that will make it safe for us." + +"Let's have a lantern by all means." The stable lantern was fetched +and lighted. Christian took up his gownpiece, and the two set out to +ascend the hill. + +Within the room the men fell into chat till their attention was for a +moment drawn to the chimney-corner. This was large, and, in addition +to its proper recess, contained within its jambs, like many on +Egdon, a receding seat, so that a person might sit there absolutely +unobserved, provided there was no fire to light him up, as was the +case now and throughout the summer. From the niche a single object +protruded into the light from the candles on the table. It was a clay +pipe, and its colour was reddish. The men had been attracted to this +object by a voice behind the pipe asking for a light. + +"Upon my life, it fairly startled me when the man spoke!" said +Fairway, handing a candle. "Oh--'tis the reddleman! You've kept a +quiet tongue, young man." + +"Yes, I had nothing to say," observed Venn. In a few minutes he arose +and wished the company good night. + +Meanwhile Wildeve and Christian had plunged into the heath. + +It was a stagnant, warm, and misty night, full of all the heavy +perfumes of new vegetation not yet dried by hot sun, and among +these particularly the scent of the fern. The lantern, dangling +from Christian's hand, brushed the feathery fronds in passing by, +disturbing moths and other winged insects, which flew out and alighted +upon its horny panes. + +"So you have money to carry to Mrs. Wildeve?" said Christian's +companion, after a silence. "Don't you think it very odd that it +shouldn't be given to me?" + +"As man and wife be one flesh, 'twould have been all the same, I +should think," said Christian. "But my strict documents was, to give +the money into Mrs. Wildeve's hand--and 'tis well to do things right." + +"No doubt," said Wildeve. Any person who had known the circumstances +might have perceived that Wildeve was mortified by the discovery that +the matter in transit was money, and not, as he had supposed when at +Blooms-End, some fancy nick-nack which only interested the two women +themselves. Mrs. Yeobright's refusal implied that his honour was not +considered to be of sufficiently good quality to make him a safer +bearer of his wife's property. + +"How very warm it is tonight, Christian!" he said, panting, when they +were nearly under Rainbarrow. "Let us sit down for a few minutes, for +Heaven's sake." + +Wildeve flung himself down on the soft ferns; and Christian, placing +the lantern and parcel on the ground, perched himself in a cramped +position hard by, his knees almost touching his chin. He presently +thrust one hand into his coat-pocket and began shaking it about. + +"What are you rattling in there?" said Wildeve. + +"Only the dice, sir," said Christian, quickly withdrawing his hand. +"What magical machines these little things be, Mr. Wildeve! 'Tis a +game I should never get tired of. Would you mind my taking 'em out +and looking at 'em for a minute, to see how they are made? I didn't +like to look close before the other men, for fear they should think it +bad manners in me." Christian took them out and examined them in the +hollow of his hand by the lantern light. "That these little things +should carry such luck, and such charm, and such a spell, and such +power in 'em, passes all I ever heard or zeed," he went on, with a +fascinated gaze at the dice, which, as is frequently the case in +country places, were made of wood, the points being burnt upon each +face with the end of a wire. + +"They are a great deal in a small compass, You think?" + +"Yes. Do ye suppose they really be the devil's playthings, Mr. +Wildeve? If so, 'tis no good sign that I be such a lucky man." + +"You ought to win some money, now that you've got them. Any woman +would marry you then. Now is your time, Christian, and I would +recommend you not to let it slip. Some men are born to luck, some are +not. I belong to the latter class." + +"Did you ever know anybody who was born to it besides myself?" + +"O yes. I once heard of an Italian, who sat down at a gaming table +with only a louis (that's a foreign sovereign) in his pocket. He +played on for twenty-four hours, and won ten thousand pounds, +stripping the bank he had played against. Then there was another man +who had lost a thousand pounds, and went to the broker's next day to +sell stock, that he might pay the debt. The man to whom he owed the +money went with him in a hackney-coach; and to pass the time they +tossed who should pay the fare. The ruined man won, and the other was +tempted to continue the game, and they played all the way. When the +coachman stopped he was told to drive home again: the whole thousand +pounds had been won back by the man who was going to sell." + +"Ha--ha--splendid!" exclaimed Christian. "Go on--go on!" + +"Then there was a man of London, who was only a waiter at White's +clubhouse. He began playing first half-crown stakes, and then higher +and higher, till he became very rich, got an appointment in India, +and rose to be Governor of Madras. His daughter married a member of +Parliament, and the Bishop of Carlisle stood godfather to one of the +children." + +"Wonderful! wonderful!" + +"And once there was a young man in America who gambled till he had +lost his last dollar. He staked his watch and chain, and lost as +before; staked his umbrella, lost again; staked his hat, lost again; +staked his coat and stood in his shirt-sleeve; lost again. Began +taking off his breeches, and then a looker-on gave him a trifle for +his pluck. With this he won. Won back his coat, won back his hat, +won back his umbrella, his watch, his money, and went out of the door +a rich man." + +"Oh, 'tis too good--it takes away my breath! Mr. Wildeve, I think +I will try another shilling with you, as I am one of that sort; no +danger can come o't, and you can afford to lose." + +"Very well," said Wildeve, rising. Searching about with the lantern, +he found a large flat stone, which he placed between himself and +Christian, and sat down again. The lantern was opened to give more +light, and it's rays directed upon the stone. Christian put down +a shilling, Wildeve another, and each threw. Christian won. They +played for two, Christian won again. + +"Let us try four," said Wildeve. They played for four. This time the +stakes were won by Wildeve. + +"Ah, those little accidents will, of course, sometimes happen, to the +luckiest man," he observed. + +"And now I have no more money!" explained Christian excitedly. "And +yet, if I could go on, I should get it back again, and more. I wish +this was mine." He struck his boot upon the ground, so that the +guineas chinked within. + +"What! you have not put Mrs. Wildeve's money there?" + +"Yes. 'Tis for safety. Is it any harm to raffle with a married lady's +money when, if I win, I shall only keep my winnings, and give her her +own all the same; and if t'other man wins, her money will go to the +lawful owner?" + +"None at all." + +Wildeve had been brooding ever since they started on the mean +estimation in which he was held by his wife's friends; and it cut his +heart severely. As the minutes passed he had gradually drifted into a +revengeful intention without knowing the precise moment of forming it. +This was to teach Mrs. Yeobright a lesson, as he considered it to be; +in other words, to show her if he could, that her niece's husband was +the proper guardian of her niece's money. + +"Well, here goes!" said Christian, beginning to unlace one boot. "I +shall dream of it nights and nights, I suppose; but I shall always +swear my flesh don't crawl when I think o't!" + +He thrust his hand into the boot and withdrew one of poor Thomasin's +precious guineas, piping hot. Wildeve had already placed a sovereign +on the stone. The game was then resumed. Wildeve won first, and +Christian ventured another, winning himself this time. The game +fluctuated, but the average was in Wildeve's favour. Both men became +so absorbed in the game that they took no heed of anything but the +pigmy objects immediately beneath their eyes, the flat stone, the open +lantern, the dice, and the few illuminated fern-leaves which lay under +the light, were the whole world to them. + +At length Christian lost rapidly; and presently, to his horror, the +whole fifty guineas belonging to Thomasin had been handed over to his +adversary. + +"I don't care--I don't care!" he moaned, and desperately set about +untying his left boot to get at the other fifty. "The devil will toss +me into the flames on his three-pronged fork for this night's work, +I know! But perhaps I shall win yet, and then I'll get a wife to sit +up with me o' nights, and I won't be afeard, I won't! Here's another +for'ee, my man!" He slapped another guinea down upon the stone, and +the dice-box was rattled again. + +Time passed on. Wildeve began to be as excited as Christian himself. +When commencing the game his intention had been nothing further than +a bitter practical joke on Mrs. Yeobright. To win the money, fairly +or otherwise, and to hand it contemptuously to Thomasin in her aunt's +presence, had been the dim outline of his purpose. But men are drawn +from their intentions even in the course of carrying them out, and +it was extremely doubtful, by the time the twentieth guinea had been +reached, whether Wildeve was conscious of any other intention than +that of winning for his own personal benefit. Moreover, he was now no +longer gambling for his wife's money, but for Yeobright's; though of +this fact Christian, in his apprehensiveness, did not inform him till +afterwards. + +It was nearly eleven o'clock, when, with almost a shriek, Christian +placed Yeobright's last gleaming guinea upon the stone. In thirty +seconds it had gone the way of its companions. + +Christian turned and flung himself on the ferns in a convulsion of +remorse, "O, what shall I do with my wretched self?" he groaned. +"What shall I do? Will any good Heaven hae mercy upon my wicked +soul?" + +"Do? Live on just the same." + +"I won't live on just the same! I'll die! I say you are a--a--" + +"A man sharper than my neighbour." + +"Yes, a man sharper than my neighbour; a regular sharper!" + +"Poor chips-in-porridge, you are very unmannerly." + +"I don't know about that! And I say you be unmannerly! You've got +money that isn't your own. Half the guineas are poor Mr. Clym's." + +"How's that?" + +"Because I had to gie fifty of 'em to him. Mrs. Yeobright said so." + +"Oh?... Well, 'twould have been more graceful of her to have given +them to his wife Eustacia. But they are in my hands now." + +Christian pulled on his boots, and with heavy breathings, which could +be heard to some distance, dragged his limbs together, arose, and +tottered away out of sight. Wildeve set about shutting the lantern to +return to the house, for he deemed it too late to go to Mistover to +meet his wife, who was to be driven home in the captain's four-wheel. +While he was closing the little horn door a figure rose from behind a +neighbouring bush and came forward into the lantern light. It was the +reddleman approaching. + + + + +VIII + +A New Force Disturbs the Current + + +Wildeve stared. Venn looked coolly towards Wildeve, and, without a +word being spoken, he deliberately sat himself down where Christian +had been seated, thrust his hand into his pocket, drew out a +sovereign, and laid it on the stone. + +"You have been watching us from behind that bush?" said Wildeve. + +The reddleman nodded. "Down with your stake," he said. "Or haven't +you pluck enough to go on?" + +Now, gambling is a species of amusement which is much more easily +begun with full pockets than left off with the same; and though +Wildeve in a cooler temper might have prudently declined this +invitation, the excitement of his recent success carried him +completely away. He placed one of the guineas on a slab beside the +reddleman's sovereign. "Mine is a guinea," he said. + +"A guinea that's not your own," said Venn sarcastically. + +"It is my own," answered Wildeve haughtily. "It is my wife's, and +what is hers is mine." + +"Very well; let's make a beginning." He shook the box, and threw +eight, ten, and nine; the three casts amounted to twenty-seven. + +This encouraged Wildeve. He took the box; and his three casts +amounted to forty-five. + +Down went another of the reddleman's sovereigns against his first one +which Wildeve laid. This time Wildeve threw fifty-one points, but no +pair. The reddleman looked grim, threw a raffle of aces, and pocketed +the stakes. + +"Here you are again," said Wildeve contemptuously. "Double the +stakes." He laid two of Thomasin's guineas, and the reddleman his two +pounds. Venn won again. New stakes were laid on the stone, and the +gamblers proceeded as before. + +Wildeve was a nervous and excitable man, and the game was beginning +to tell upon his temper. He writhed, fumed, shifted his seat; and +the beating of his heart was almost audible. Venn sat with lips +impassively closed and eyes reduced to a pair of unimportant twinkles; +he scarcely appeared to breathe. He might have been an Arab, or an +automaton; he would have been like a red sandstone statue but for the +motion of his arm with the dice-box. + +The game fluctuated, now in favour of one, now in favour of the other, +without any great advantage on the side of either. Nearly twenty +minutes were passed thus. The light of the candle had by this time +attracted heathflies, moths, and other winged creatures of night, +which floated round the lantern, flew into the flame, or beat about +the faces of the two players. + +But neither of the men paid much attention to these things, their eyes +being concentrated upon the little flat stone, which to them was an +arena vast and important as a battlefield. By this time a change had +come over the game; the reddleman won continually. At length sixty +guineas--Thomasin's fifty, and ten of Clym's--had passed into his +hands. Wildeve was reckless, frantic, exasperated. + +"'Won back his coat,'" said Venn slily. + +Another throw, and the money went the same way. + +"'Won back his hat,'" continued Venn. + +"Oh, oh!" said Wildeve. + +"'Won back his watch, won back his money, and went out of the door +a rich man,'" added Venn sentence by sentence, as stake after stake +passed over to him. + +"Five more!" shouted Wildeve, dashing down the money. "And three +casts be hanged--one shall decide." + +The red automaton opposite lapsed into silence, nodded, and followed +his example. Wildeve rattled the box, and threw a pair of sixes and +five points. He clapped his hands; "I have done it this +time--hurrah!" + +"There are two playing, and only one has thrown," said the reddleman, +quietly bringing down the box. The eyes of each were then so intently +converged upon the stone that one could fancy their beams were +visible, like rays in a fog. + +Venn lifted the box, and behold a triplet of sixes was disclosed. + +Wildeve was full of fury. While the reddleman was grasping the stakes +Wildeve seized the dice and hurled them, box and all, into the +darkness, uttering a fearful imprecation. Then he arose and began +stamping up and down like a madman. + +"It is all over, then?" said Venn. + +"No, no!" cried Wildeve. "I mean to have another chance yet. I +must!" + +"But, my good man, what have you done with the dice?" + +"I threw them away--it was a momentary irritation. What a fool I am! +Here--come and help me to look for them--we must find them again." + +Wildeve snatched up the lantern and began anxiously prowling among the +furze and fern. + +"You are not likely to find them there," said Venn, following. "What +did you do such a crazy thing as that for? Here's the box. The dice +can't be far off." + +Wildeve turned the light eagerly upon the spot where Venn had found +the box, and mauled the herbage right and left. In the course of a few +minutes one of the dice was found. They searched on for some time, +but no other was to be seen. + +"Never mind," said Wildeve; "let's play with one." + +"Agreed," said Venn. + +Down they sat again, and recommenced with single guinea stakes; and +the play went on smartly. But Fortune had unmistakably fallen in love +with the reddleman tonight. He won steadily, till he was the owner of +fourteen more of the gold pieces. Seventy-nine of the hundred guineas +were his, Wildeve possessing only twenty-one. The aspect of the two +opponents was now singular. Apart from motions, a complete diorama +of the fluctuations of the game went on in their eyes. A diminutive +candle-flame was mirrored in each pupil, and it would have been +possible to distinguish therein between the moods of hope and the +moods of abandonment, even as regards the reddleman, though his facial +muscles betrayed nothing at all. Wildeve played on with the +recklessness of despair. + +"What's that?" he suddenly exclaimed, hearing a rustle; and they both +looked up. + +They were surrounded by dusky forms between four and five feet high, +standing a few paces beyond the rays of the lantern. A moment's +inspection revealed that the encircling figures were heath-croppers, +their heads being all towards the players, at whom they gazed +intently. + +"Hoosh!" said Wildeve, and the whole forty or fifty animals at once +turned and galloped away. Play was again resumed. + +Ten minutes passed away. Then a large death's head moth advanced from +the obscure outer air, wheeled twice round the lantern, flew straight +at the candle, and extinguished it by the force of the blow. Wildeve +had just thrown, but had not lifted the box to see what he had cast; +and now it was impossible. + +"What the infernal!" he shrieked. "Now, what shall we do? Perhaps I +have thrown six--have you any matches?" + +"None," said Venn. + +"Christian had some--I wonder where he is. Christian!" + +But there was no reply to Wildeve's shout, save a mournful whining +from the herons which were nesting lower down the vale. Both men +looked blankly round without rising. As their eyes grew accustomed to +the darkness they perceived faint greenish points of light among the +grass and fern. These lights dotted the hillside like stars of a low +magnitude. + +"Ah--glowworms," said Wildeve. "Wait a minute. We can continue the +game." + +Venn sat still, and his companion went hither and thither till he had +gathered thirteen glowworms--as many as he could find in a space of +four or five minutes--upon a foxglove leaf which he pulled for the +purpose. The reddleman vented a low humorous laugh when he saw his +adversary return with these. "Determined to go on, then?" he said +drily. + +"I always am!" said Wildeve angrily. And shaking the glowworms from +the leaf he ranged them with a trembling hand in a circle on the +stone, leaving a space in the middle for the descent of the dice-box, +over which the thirteen tiny lamps threw a pale phosphoric shine. The +game was again renewed. It happened to be that season of the year at +which glowworms put forth their greatest brilliancy, and the light +they yielded was more than ample for the purpose, since it is possible +on such nights to read the handwriting of a letter by the light of two +or three. + +The incongruity between the men's deeds and their environment was +great. Amid the soft juicy vegetation of the hollow in which they +sat, the motionless and the uninhabited solitude, intruded the chink +of guineas, the rattle of dice, the exclamations of the reckless +players. + +Wildeve had lifted the box as soon as the lights were obtained, and +the solitary die proclaimed that the game was still against him. + +"I won't play any more--you've been tampering with the dice," he +shouted. + +"How--when they were your own?" said the reddleman. + +"We'll change the game: the lowest point shall win the stake--it may +cut off my ill luck. Do you refuse?" + +"No--go on," said Venn. + +"O, there they are again--damn them!" cried Wildeve, looking up. The +heath-croppers had returned noiselessly, and were looking on with +erect heads just as before, their timid eyes fixed upon the scene, as +if they were wondering what mankind and candle-light could have to do +in these haunts at this untoward hour. + +"What a plague those creatures are--staring at me so!" he said, and +flung a stone, which scattered them; when the game was continued as +before. + +Wildeve had now ten guineas left; and each laid five. Wildeve threw +three points; Venn two, and raked in the coins. The other seized the +die, and clenched his teeth upon it in sheer rage, as if he would +bite it in pieces. "Never give in--here are my last five!" he cried, +throwing them down. "Hang the glowworms--they are going out. Why +don't you burn, you little fools? Stir them up with a thorn." + +He probed the glowworms with a bit of stick, and rolled them over, +till the bright side of their tails was upwards. + +"There's light enough. Throw on," said Venn. + +Wildeve brought down the box within the shining circle and looked +eagerly. He had thrown ace. "Well done!--I said it would turn, and +it has turned." Venn said nothing; but his hand shook slightly. + +He threw ace also. + +"O!" said Wildeve. "Curse me!" + +The die smacked the stone a second time. It was ace again. Venn +looked gloomy, threw: the die was seen to be lying in two pieces, +the cleft sides uppermost. + +"I've thrown nothing at all," he said. + +"Serves me right--I split the die with my teeth. Here--take your +money. Blank is less than one." + +"I don't wish it." + +"Take it, I say--you've won it!" And Wildeve threw the stakes against +the reddleman's chest. Venn gathered them up, arose, and withdrew +from the hollow, Wildeve sitting stupefied. + +When he had come to himself he also arose, and, with the extinguished +lantern in his hand, went towards the high-road. On reaching it he +stood still. The silence of night pervaded the whole heath except in +one direction; and that was towards Mistover. There he could hear the +noise of light wheels, and presently saw two carriage-lamps descending +the hill. Wildeve screened himself under a bush and waited. + +The vehicle came on and passed before him. It was a hired carriage, +and behind the coachman were two persons whom he knew well. There sat +Eustacia and Yeobright, the arm of the latter being round her waist. +They turned the sharp corner at the bottom towards the temporary home +which Clym had hired and furnished, about five miles to the eastward. + +Wildeve forgot the loss of the money at the sight of his lost +love, whose preciousness in his eyes was increasing in geometrical +progression with each new incident that reminded him of their hopeless +division. Brimming with the subtilized misery that he was capable of +feeling, he followed the opposite way towards the inn. + +About the same moment that Wildeve stepped into the highway Venn also +had reached it at a point a hundred yards further on; and he, hearing +the same wheels, likewise waited till the carriage should come up. +When he saw who sat therein he seemed to be disappointed. Reflecting +a minute or two, during which interval the carriage rolled on, he +crossed the road, and took a short cut through the furze and heath to +a point where the turnpike-road bent round in ascending a hill. He +was now again in front of the carriage, which presently came up at a +walking pace. Venn stepped forward and showed himself. + +Eustacia started when the lamp shone upon him, and Clym's arm was +involuntarily withdrawn from her waist. He said, "What, Diggory? You +are having a lonely walk." + +"Yes--I beg your pardon for stopping you," said Venn. "But I am +waiting about for Mrs. Wildeve: I have something to give her from Mrs. +Yeobright. Can you tell me if she's gone home from the party yet?" + +"No. But she will be leaving soon. You may possibly meet her at the +corner." + +Venn made a farewell obeisance, and walked back to his former +position, where the by-road from Mistover joined the highway. Here +he remained fixed for nearly half an hour, and then another pair +of lights came down the hill. It was the old-fashioned wheeled +nondescript belonging to the captain, and Thomasin sat in it alone, +driven by Charley. + +The reddleman came up as they slowly turned the corner. "I beg pardon +for stopping you, Mrs. Wildeve," he said. "But I have something to +give you privately from Mrs. Yeobright." He handed a small parcel; it +consisted of the hundred guineas he had just won, roughly twisted up +in a piece of paper. + +Thomasin recovered from her surprise, and took the packet. "That's +all, ma'am--I wish you good night," he said, and vanished from her +view. + +Thus Venn, in his anxiety to rectify matters, had placed in Thomasin's +hands not only the fifty guineas which rightly belonged to her, but +also the fifty intended for her cousin Clym. His mistake had been +based upon Wildeve's words at the opening of the game, when he +indignantly denied that the guinea was not his own. It had not been +comprehended by the reddleman that at half-way through the performance +the game was continued with the money of another person; and it was an +error which afterwards helped to cause more misfortune than treble the +loss in money value could have done. + +The night was now somewhat advanced; and Venn plunged deeper into the +heath, till he came to a ravine where his van was standing--a spot not +more than two hundred yards from the site of the gambling bout. He +entered this movable home of his, lit his lantern, and, before closing +his door for the night, stood reflecting on the circumstances of +the preceding hours. While he stood the dawn grew visible in the +north-east quarter of the heavens, which, the clouds having cleared +off, was bright with a soft sheen at this midsummer time, though it +was only between one and two o'clock. Venn, thoroughly weary, then +shut his door and flung himself down to sleep. + + + + +BOOK FOURTH +THE CLOSED DOOR + + +I + +The Rencounter by the Pool + + +The July sun shone over Egdon and fired its crimson heather to +scarlet. It was the one season of the year, and the one weather of +the season, in which the heath was gorgeous. This flowering period +represented the second or noontide division in the cycle of those +superficial changes which alone were possible here; it followed the +green or young-fern period, representing the morn, and preceded the +brown period, when the heathbells and ferns would wear the russet +tinges of evening; to be in turn displaced by the dark hue of the +winter period, representing night. + +Clym and Eustacia, in their little house at Alderworth, beyond East +Egdon, were living on with a monotony which was delightful to them. +The heath and changes of weather were quite blotted out from their +eyes for the present. They were enclosed in a sort of luminous mist, +which hid from them surroundings of any inharmonious colour, and +gave to all things the character of light. When it rained they were +charmed, because they could remain indoors together all day with such +a show of reason; when it was fine they were charmed, because they +could sit together on the hills. They were like those double stars +which revolve round and round each other, and from a distance appear +to be one. The absolute solitude in which they lived intensified +their reciprocal thoughts; yet some might have said that it had the +disadvantage of consuming their mutual affections at a fearfully +prodigal rate. Yeobright did not fear for his own part; but +recollection of Eustacia's old speech about the evanescence of love, +now apparently forgotten by her, sometimes caused him to ask himself +a question; and he recoiled at the thought that the quality of +finiteness was not foreign to Eden. + +When three or four weeks had been passed thus, Yeobright resumed +his reading in earnest. To make up for lost time he studied +indefatigably, for he wished to enter his new profession with the +least possible delay. + +Now, Eustacia's dream had always been that, once married to Clym, +she would have the power of inducing him to return to Paris. He had +carefully withheld all promise to do so; but would he be proof against +her coaxing and argument? She had calculated to such a degree on +the probability of success that she had represented Paris, and not +Budmouth, to her grandfather as in all likelihood their future home. +Her hopes were bound up in this dream. In the quiet days since their +marriage, when Yeobright had been poring over her lips, her eyes, and +the lines of her face, she had mused and mused on the subject, even +while in the act of returning his gaze; and now the sight of the +books, indicating a future which was antagonistic to her dream, struck +her with a positively painful jar. She was hoping for the time when, +as the mistress of some pretty establishment, however small, near a +Parisian Boulevard, she would be passing her days on the skirts at +least of the gay world, and catching stray wafts from those town +pleasures she was so well fitted to enjoy. Yet Yeobright was as firm +in the contrary intention as if the tendency of marriage were rather +to develop the fantasies of young philanthropy than to sweep them +away. + +Her anxiety reached a high pitch; but there was something in Clym's +undeviating manner which made her hesitate before sounding him on +the subject. At this point in their experience, however, an incident +helped her. It occurred one evening about six weeks after their +union, and arose entirely out of the unconscious misapplication of +Venn of the fifty guineas intended for Yeobright. + +A day or two after the receipt of the money Thomasin had sent a note +to her aunt to thank her. She had been surprised at the largeness of +the amount; but as no sum had ever been mentioned she set that down +to her late uncle's generosity. She had been strictly charged by her +aunt to say nothing to her husband of this gift; and Wildeve, as was +natural enough, had not brought himself to mention to his wife a +single particular of the midnight scene in the heath. Christian's +terror, in like manner, had tied his tongue on the share he took in +that proceeding; and hoping that by some means or other the money had +gone to its proper destination, he simply asserted as much, without +giving details. + +Therefore, when a week or two had passed away, Mrs. Yeobright began +to wonder why she never heard from her son of the receipt of the +present; and to add gloom to her perplexity came the possibility +that resentment might be the cause of his silence. She could hardly +believe as much, but why did he not write? She questioned Christian, +and the confusion in his answers would at once have led her to +believe that something was wrong, had not one-half of his story been +corroborated by Thomasin's note. + +Mrs. Yeobright was in this state of uncertainty when she was informed +one morning that her son's wife was visiting her grandfather at +Mistover. She determined to walk up the hill, see Eustacia, and +ascertain from her daughter-in-law's lips whether the family guineas, +which were to Mrs. Yeobright what family jewels are to wealthier +dowagers, had miscarried or not. + +When Christian learnt where she was going his concern reached its +height. At the moment of her departure he could prevaricate no +longer, and, confessing to the gambling, told her the truth as far +as he knew it--that the guineas had been won by Wildeve. + +"What, is he going to keep them?" Mrs. Yeobright cried. + +"I hope and trust not!" moaned Christian. "He's a good man, and +perhaps will do right things. He said you ought to have gied Mr. +Clym's share to Eustacia, and that's perhaps what he'll do himself." + +To Mrs. Yeobright, as soon as she could calmly reflect, there was much +likelihood in this, for she could hardly believe that Wildeve would +really appropriate money belonging to her son. The intermediate +course of giving it to Eustacia was the sort of thing to please +Wildeve's fancy. But it filled the mother with anger none the less. +That Wildeve should have got command of the guineas after all, and +should rearrange the disposal of them, placing Clym's share in Clym's +wife's hands, because she had been his own sweetheart, and might be so +still, was as irritating a pain as any that Mrs. Yeobright had ever +borne. + +She instantly dismissed the wretched Christian from her employ for his +conduct in the affair; but, feeling quite helpless and unable to do +without him, told him afterwards that he might stay a little longer +if he chose. Then she hastened off to Eustacia, moved by a much less +promising emotion towards her daughter-in-law than she had felt half +an hour earlier, when planning her journey. At that time it was to +inquire in a friendly spirit if there had been any accidental loss; +now it was to ask plainly if Wildeve had privately given her money +which had been intended as a sacred gift to Clym. + +She started at two o'clock, and her meeting with Eustacia was hastened +by the appearance of the young lady beside the pool and bank which +bordered her grandfather's premises, where she stood surveying +the scene, and perhaps thinking of the romantic enactments it had +witnessed in past days. When Mrs. Yeobright approached, Eustacia +surveyed her with the calm stare of a stranger. + +The mother-in-law was the first to speak. "I was coming to see you," +she said. + +"Indeed!" said Eustacia with surprise, for Mrs. Yeobright, much to the +girl's mortification, had refused to be present at the wedding. "I +did not at all expect you." + +"I was coming on business only," said the visitor, more coldly than at +first. "Will you excuse my asking this--Have you received a gift from +Thomasin's husband?" + +"A gift?" + +"I mean money!" + +"What--I myself?" + +"Well, I meant yourself, privately--though I was not going to put it +in that way." + +"Money from Mr. Wildeve? No--never! Madam, what do you mean by that?" +Eustacia fired up all too quickly, for her own consciousness of the +old attachment between herself and Wildeve led her to jump to the +conclusion that Mrs. Yeobright also knew of it, and might have come +to accuse her of receiving dishonourable presents from him now. + +"I simply ask the question," said Mrs. Yeobright. "I have been--" + +"You ought to have better opinions of me--I feared you were against +me from the first!" exclaimed Eustacia. + +"No. I was simply for Clym," replied Mrs. Yeobright, with too much +emphasis in her earnestness. "It is the instinct of everyone to look +after their own." + +"How can you imply that he required guarding against me?" cried +Eustacia, passionate tears in her eyes. "I have not injured him by +marrying him! What sin have I done that you should think so ill of me? +You had no right to speak against me to him when I have never wronged +you." + +"I only did what was fair under the circumstances," said Mrs. +Yeobright more softly. "I would rather not have gone into this +question at present, but you compel me. I am not ashamed to tell you +the honest truth. I was firmly convinced that he ought not to marry +you--therefore I tried to dissuade him by all the means in my power. +But it is done now, and I have no idea of complaining any more. I am +ready to welcome you." + +"Ah, yes, it is very well to see things in that business point of +view," murmured Eustacia with a smothered fire of feeling. "But why +should you think there is anything between me and Mr. Wildeve? I have +a spirit as well as you. I am indignant; and so would any woman be. +It was a condescension in me to be Clym's wife, and not a manoeuvre, +let me remind you; and therefore I will not be treated as a schemer +whom it becomes necessary to bear with because she has crept into the +family." + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Yeobright, vainly endeavouring to control her anger. +"I have never heard anything to show that my son's lineage is not as +good as the Vyes'--perhaps better. It is amusing to hear you talk of +condescension." + +"It was condescension, nevertheless," said Eustacia vehemently. "And +if I had known then what I know now, that I should be living in this +wild heath a month after my marriage, I--I should have thought twice +before agreeing." + +"It would be better not to say that; it might not sound truthful. I +am not aware that any deception was used on his part--I know there was +not--whatever might have been the case on the other side." + +"This is too exasperating!" answered the younger woman huskily, her +face crimsoning, and her eyes darting light. "How can you dare to +speak to me like that? I insist upon repeating to you that had I +known that my life would from my marriage up to this time have been as +it is, I should have said NO. I don't complain. I have never uttered +a sound of such a thing to him; but it is true. I hope therefore that +in the future you will be silent on my eagerness. If you injure me +now you injure yourself." + +"Injure you? Do you think I am an evil-disposed person?" + +"You injured me before my marriage, and you have now suspected me of +secretly favouring another man for money!" + +"I could not help what I thought. But I have never spoken of you +outside my house." + +"You spoke of me within it, to Clym, and you could not do worse." + +"I did my duty." + +"And I'll do mine." + +"A part of which will possibly be to set him against his mother. It +is always so. But why should I not bear it as others have borne it +before me!" + +"I understand you," said Eustacia, breathless with emotion. "You +think me capable of every bad thing. Who can be worse than a wife +who encourages a lover, and poisons her husband's mind against his +relative? Yet that is now the character given to me. Will you not +come and drag him out of my hands?" + +Mrs. Yeobright gave back heat for heat. + +"Don't rage at me, madam! It ill becomes your beauty, and I am not +worth the injury you may do it on my account, I assure you. I am only +a poor old woman who has lost a son." + +"If you had treated me honourably you would have had him still." +Eustacia said, while scalding tears trickled from her eyes. "You have +brought yourself to folly; you have caused a division which can never +be healed!" + +"I have done nothing. This audacity from a young woman is more than I +can bear." + +"It was asked for; you have suspected me, and you have made me speak +of my husband in a way I would not have done. You will let him know +that I have spoken thus, and it will cause misery between us. Will +you go away from me? You are no friend!" + +"I will go when I have spoken a word. If anyone says I have come +here to question you without good grounds for it, that person speaks +untruly. If anyone says that I attempted to stop your marriage by any +but honest means, that person, too, does not speak the truth. I have +fallen on an evil time; God has been unjust to me in letting you +insult me! Probably my son's happiness does not lie on this side of +the grave, for he is a foolish man who neglects the advice of his +parent. You, Eustacia, stand on the edge of a precipice without +knowing it. Only show my son one-half the temper you have shown me +today--and you may before long--and you will find that though he is +as gentle as a child with you now, he can be as hard as steel!" + +The excited mother then withdrew, and Eustacia, panting, stood looking +into the pool. + + + + +II + +He Is Set Upon by Adversities; but He Sings a Song + + +The result of that unpropitious interview was that Eustacia, instead +of passing the afternoon with her grandfather, hastily returned home +to Clym, where she arrived three hours earlier than she had been +expected. + +She came indoors with her face flushed, and her eyes still showing +traces of her recent excitement. Yeobright looked up astonished; he +had never seen her in any way approaching to that state before. She +passed him by, and would have gone upstairs unnoticed, but Clym was +so concerned that he immediately followed her. + +"What is the matter, Eustacia?" he said. She was standing on the +hearthrug in the bedroom, looking upon the floor, her hands clasped +in front of her, her bonnet yet unremoved. For a moment she did not +answer; and then she replied in a low voice-- + +"I have seen your mother; and I will never see her again!" + +A weight fell like a stone upon Clym. That same morning, when Eustacia +had arranged to go and see her grandfather, Clym had expressed a +wish that she would drive down to Blooms-End and inquire for her +mother-in-law, or adopt any other means she might think fit to bring +about a reconciliation. She had set out gaily; and he had hoped for +much. + +"Why is this?" he asked. + +"I cannot tell--I cannot remember. I met your mother. And I will +never meet her again." + +"Why?" + +"What do I know about Mr. Wildeve now? I won't have wicked opinions +passed on me by anybody. O! it was too humiliating to be asked if I +had received any money from him, or encouraged him, or something of +the sort--I don't exactly know what!" + +"How could she have asked you that?" + +"She did." + +"Then there must have been some meaning in it. What did my mother say +besides?" + +"I don't know what she said, except in so far as this, that we both +said words which can never be forgiven!" + +"Oh, there must be some misapprehension. Whose fault was it that her +meaning was not made clear?" + +"I would rather not say. It may have been the fault of the +circumstances, which were awkward at the very least. O Clym--I cannot +help expressing it--this is an unpleasant position that you have +placed me in. But you must improve it--yes, say you will--for I hate +it all now! Yes, take me to Paris, and go on with your old occupation, +Clym! I don't mind how humbly we live there at first, if it can only +be Paris, and not Egdon Heath." + +"But I have quite given up that idea," said Yeobright, with surprise. +"Surely I never led you to expect such a thing?" + +"I own it. Yet there are thoughts which cannot be kept out of mind, +and that one was mine. Must I not have a voice in the matter, now I +am your wife and the sharer of your doom?" + +"Well, there are things which are placed beyond the pale of +discussion; and I thought this was specially so, and by mutual +agreement." + +"Clym, I am unhappy at what I hear," she said in a low voice; and her +eyes drooped, and she turned away. + +This indication of an unexpected mine of hope in Eustacia's bosom +disconcerted her husband. It was the first time that he had +confronted the fact of the indirectness of a woman's movement towards +her desire. But his intention was unshaken, though he loved Eustacia +well. All the effect that her remark had upon him was a resolve to +chain himself more closely than ever to his books, so as to be the +sooner enabled to appeal to substantial results from another course +in arguing against her whim. + +Next day the mystery of the guineas was explained. Thomasin paid them +a hurried visit, and Clym's share was delivered up to him by her own +hands. Eustacia was not present at the time. + +"Then this is what my mother meant," exclaimed Clym. "Thomasin, do +you know that they have had a bitter quarrel?" + +There was a little more reticence now than formerly in Thomasin's +manner towards her cousin. It is the effect of marriage to engender +in several directions some of the reserve it annihilates in one. +"Your mother told me," she said quietly. "She came back to my house +after seeing Eustacia." + +"The worst thing I dreaded has come to pass. Was mother much +disturbed when she came to you, Thomasin?" + +"Yes." + +"Very much indeed?" + +"Yes." + +Clym leant his elbow upon the post of the garden gate, and covered his +eyes with his hand. + +"Don't trouble about it, Clym. They may get to be friends." + +He shook his head. "Not two people with inflammable natures like +theirs. Well, what must be will be." + +"One thing is cheerful in it--the guineas are not lost." + +"I would rather have lost them twice over than have had this happen." + + + +Amid these jarring events Yeobright felt one thing to be +indispensable--that he should speedily make some show of progress in +his scholastic plans. With this view he read far into the small hours +during many nights. + +One morning, after a severer strain than usual, he awoke with a +strange sensation in his eyes. The sun was shining directly upon the +window-blind, and at his first glance thitherward a sharp pain obliged +him to close his eyelids quickly. At every new attempt to look +about him the same morbid sensibility to light was manifested, and +excoriating tears ran down his cheeks. He was obliged to tie a +bandage over his brow while dressing; and during the day it could not +be abandoned. Eustacia was thoroughly alarmed. On finding that the +case was no better the next morning they decided to send to Anglebury +for a surgeon. + +Towards evening he arrived, and pronounced the disease to be acute +inflammation induced by Clym's night studies, continued in spite of a +cold previously caught, which had weakened his eyes for the time. + +Fretting with impatience at this interruption to a task he was so +anxious to hasten, Clym was transformed into an invalid. He was shut +up in a room from which all light was excluded, and his condition +would have been one of absolute misery had not Eustacia read to him by +the glimmer of a shaded lamp. He hoped that the worst would soon be +over; but at the surgeon's third visit he learnt to his dismay that +although he might venture out of doors with shaded eyes in the course +of a month, all thought of pursuing his work, or of reading print of +any description, would have to be given up for a long time to come. + +One week and another week wore on, and nothing seemed to lighten the +gloom of the young couple. Dreadful imaginings occurred to Eustacia, +but she carefully refrained from uttering them to her husband. Suppose +he should become blind, or, at all events, never recover sufficient +strength of sight to engage in an occupation which would be congenial +to her feelings, and conduce to her removal from this lonely dwelling +among the hills? That dream of beautiful Paris was not likely to +cohere into substance in the presence of this misfortune. As day after +day passed by, and he got no better, her mind ran more and more in +this mournful groove, and she would go away from him into the garden +and weep despairing tears. + +Yeobright thought he would send for his mother; and then he thought +he would not. Knowledge of his state could only make her the more +unhappy; and the seclusion of their life was such that she would +hardly be likely to learn the news except through a special messenger. +Endeavouring to take the trouble as philosophically as possible, he +waited on till the third week had arrived, when he went into the open +air for the first time since the attack. The surgeon visited him +again at this stage, and Clym urged him to express a distinct opinion. +The young man learnt with added surprise that the date at which he +might expect to resume his labours was as uncertain as ever, his eyes +being in that peculiar state which, though affording him sight enough +for walking about, would not admit of their being strained upon any +definite object without incurring the risk of reproducing ophthalmia +in its acute form. + +Clym was very grave at the intelligence, but not despairing. A quiet +firmness, and even cheerfulness, took possession of him. He was +not to be blind; that was enough. To be doomed to behold the world +through smoked glass for an indefinite period was bad enough, and +fatal to any kind of advance; but Yeobright was an absolute stoic in +the face of mishaps which only affected his social standing; and, +apart from Eustacia, the humblest walk of life would satisfy him if +it could be made to work in with some form of his culture scheme. To +keep a cottage night-school was one such form; and his affliction did +not master his spirit as it might otherwise have done. + +He walked through the warm sun westward into those tracts of Egdon +with which he was best acquainted, being those lying nearer to his old +home. He saw before him in one of the valleys the gleaming of whetted +iron, and advancing, dimly perceived that the shine came from the +tool of a man who was cutting furze. The worker recognized Clym, and +Yeobright learnt from the voice that the speaker was Humphrey. + +Humphrey expressed his sorrow at Clym's condition, and added; "Now, if +yours was low-class work like mine, you could go on with it just the +same." + +"Yes, I could," said Yeobright musingly. "How much do you get for +cutting these faggots?" + +"Half-a-crown a hundred, and in these long days I can live very well +on the wages." + +During the whole of Yeobright's walk home to Alderworth he was lost +in reflections which were not of an unpleasant kind. On his coming up +to the house Eustacia spoke to him from the open window, and he went +across to her. + +"Darling," he said, "I am much happier. And if my mother were +reconciled to me and to you I should, I think, be happy quite." + +"I fear that will never be," she said, looking afar with her beautiful +stormy eyes. "How CAN you say 'I am happier,' and nothing changed?" + +"It arises from my having at last discovered something I can do, and +get a living at, in this time of misfortune." + +"Yes?" + +"I am going to be a furze and turf-cutter." + +"No, Clym!" she said, the slight hopefulness previously apparent in +her face going off again, and leaving her worse than before. + +"Surely I shall. Is it not very unwise in us to go on spending the +little money we've got when I can keep down expenditure by an honest +occupation? The outdoor exercise will do me good, and who knows but +that in a few months I shall be able to go on with my reading again?" + +"But my grandfather offers to assist us, if we require assistance." + +"We don't require it. If I go furze-cutting we shall be fairly well +off." + +"In comparison with slaves, and the Israelites in Egypt, and such +people!" A bitter tear rolled down Eustacia's face, which he did not +see. There had been _nonchalance_ in his tone, showing her that he +felt no absolute grief at a consummation which to her was a positive +horror. + +The very next day Yeobright went to Humphrey's cottage, and borrowed +of him leggings, gloves, a whet-stone, and a hook, to use till he +should be able to purchase some for himself. Then he sallied forth +with his new fellow-labourer and old acquaintance, and selecting a +spot where the furze grew thickest he struck the first blow in his +adopted calling. His sight, like the wings in "Rasselas," though +useless to him for his grand purpose, sufficed for this strait, and +he found that when a little practice should have hardened his palms +against blistering he would be able to work with ease. + +Day after day he rose with the sun, buckled on his leggings, and went +off to the rendezvous with Humphrey. His custom was to work from four +o'clock in the morning till noon; then, when the heat of the day was +at its highest, to go home and sleep for an hour or two; afterwards +coming out again and working till dusk at nine. + +This man from Paris was now so disguised by his leather accoutrements, +and by the goggles he was obliged to wear over his eyes, that his +closest friend might have passed by without recognizing him. He was +a brown spot in the midst of an expanse of olive-green gorse, and +nothing more. Though frequently depressed in spirit when not actually +at work, owing to thoughts of Eustacia's position and his mother's +estrangement, when in the full swing of labour he was cheerfully +disposed and calm. + +His daily life was of a curious microscopic sort, his whole world +being limited to a circuit of a few feet from his person. His +familiars were creeping and winged things, and they seemed to enroll +him in their band. Bees hummed around his ears with an intimate +air, and tugged at the heath and furze-flowers at his side in such +numbers as to weigh them down to the sod. The strange amber-coloured +butterflies which Egdon produced, and which were never seen elsewhere, +quivered in the breath of his lips, alighted upon his bowed back, and +sported with the glittering point of his hook as he flourished it up +and down. Tribes of emerald-green grasshoppers leaped over his feet, +falling awkwardly on their backs, heads, or hips, like unskilful +acrobats, as chance might rule; or engaged themselves in noisy +flirtations under the fern-fronds with silent ones of homely hue. Huge +flies, ignorant of larders and wire-netting, and quite in a savage +state, buzzed about him without knowing that he was a man. In and +out of the fern-dells snakes glided in their most brilliant blue and +yellow guise, it being the season immediately following the shedding +of their old skins, when their colours are brightest. Litters of young +rabbits came out from their forms to sun themselves upon hillocks, the +hot beams blazing through the delicate tissue of each thin-fleshed +ear, and firing it to a blood-red transparency in which the veins +could be seen. None of them feared him. + +The monotony of his occupation soothed him, and was in itself a +pleasure. A forced limitation of effort offered a justification of +homely courses to an unambitious man, whose conscience would hardly +have allowed him to remain in such obscurity while his powers were +unimpeded. Hence Yeobright sometimes sang to himself, and when obliged +to accompany Humphrey in search of brambles for faggot-bonds he would +amuse his companion with sketches of Parisian life and character, and +so while away the time. + +On one of these warm afternoons Eustacia walked out alone in the +direction of Yeobright's place of work. He was busily chopping away +at the furze, a long row of faggots which stretched downward from his +position representing the labour of the day. He did not observe her +approach, and she stood close to him, and heard his undercurrent of +song. It shocked her. To see him there, a poor afflicted man, earning +money by the sweat of his brow, had at first moved her to tears; but +to hear him sing and not at all rebel against an occupation which, +however satisfactory to himself, was degrading to her, as an educated +lady-wife, wounded her through. Unconscious of her presence, he still +went on singing:-- + + + "Le point du jour + A nos bosquets rend toute leur parure; + Flore est plus belle a son retour; + L'oiseau reprend doux chant d'amour; + Tout celebre dans la nature + Le point du jour. + + "Le point du jour + Cause parfois, cause douleur extreme; + Que l'espace des nuits est court + Pour le berger brulant d'amour, + Force de quitter ce qu'il aime + Au point du jour!" + + +It was bitterly plain to Eustacia that he did not care much about +social failure; and the proud fair woman bowed her head and wept in +sick despair at thought of the blasting effect upon her own life of +that mood and condition in him. Then she came forward. + +"I would starve rather than do it!" she exclaimed vehemently. "And +you can sing! I will go and live with my grandfather again!" + +"Eustacia! I did not see you, though I noticed something moving," he +said gently. He came forward, pulled off his huge leather glove, and +took her hand. "Why do you speak in such a strange way? It is only a +little old song which struck my fancy when I was in Paris, and now +just applies to my life with you. Has your love for me all died, +then, because my appearance is no longer that of a fine gentleman?" + +"Dearest, you must not question me unpleasantly, or it may make me +not love you." + +"Do you believe it possible that I would run the risk of doing that?" + +"Well, you follow out your own ideas, and won't give in to mine when +I wish you to leave off this shameful labour. Is there anything you +dislike in me that you act so contrarily to my wishes? I am your +wife, and why will you not listen? Yes, I am your wife indeed!" + +"I know what that tone means." + +"What tone?" + +"The tone in which you said, 'Your wife indeed.' It meant, 'Your wife, +worse luck.'" + +"It is hard in you to probe me with that remark. A woman may have +reason, though she is not without heart, and if I felt 'worse luck,' +it was no ignoble feeling--it was only too natural. There, you see +that at any rate I do not attempt untruths. Do you remember how, +before we were married, I warned you that I had not good wifely +qualities?" + +"You mock me to say that now. On that point at least the only noble +course would be to hold your tongue, for you are still queen of me, +Eustacia, though I may no longer be king of you." + +"You are my husband. Does not that content you?" + +"Not unless you are my wife without regret." + +"I cannot answer you. I remember saying that I should be a serious +matter on your hands." + +"Yes, I saw that." + +"Then you were too quick to see! No true lover would have seen any +such thing; you are too severe upon me, Clym--I don't like your +speaking so at all." + +"Well, I married you in spite of it, and don't regret doing so. How +cold you seem this afternoon! and yet I used to think there never was +a warmer heart than yours." + +"Yes, I fear we are cooling--I see it as well as you," she sighed +mournfully. "And how madly we loved two months ago! You were never +tired of contemplating me, nor I of contemplating you. Who could have +thought then that by this time my eyes would not seem so very bright +to yours, nor your lips so very sweet to mine? Two months--is it +possible? Yes, 'tis too true!" + +"You sigh, dear, as if you were sorry for it; and that's a hopeful +sign." + +"No. I don't sigh for that. There are other things for me to sigh +for, or any other woman in my place." + +"That your chances in life are ruined by marrying in haste an +unfortunate man?" + +"Why will you force me, Clym, to say bitter things? I deserve pity as +much as you. As much?--I think I deserve it more. For you can sing! +It would be a strange hour which should catch me singing under such a +cloud as this! Believe me, sweet, I could weep to a degree that would +astonish and confound such an elastic mind as yours. Even had you +felt careless about your own affliction, you might have refrained from +singing out of sheer pity for mine. God! if I were a man in such a +position I would curse rather than sing." + +Yeobright placed his hand upon her arm. "Now, don't you suppose, my +inexperienced girl, that I cannot rebel, in high Promethean fashion, +against the gods and fate as well as you. I have felt more steam and +smoke of that sort than you have ever heard of. But the more I see of +life the more do I perceive that there is nothing particularly great +in its greatest walks, and therefore nothing particularly small +in mine of furze-cutting. If I feel that the greatest blessings +vouchsafed to us are not very valuable, how can I feel it to be any +great hardship when they are taken away? So I sing to pass the time. +Have you indeed lost all tenderness for me, that you begrudge me a +few cheerful moments?" + +"I have still some tenderness left for you." + +"Your words have no longer their old flavour. And so love dies with +good fortune!" + +"I cannot listen to this, Clym--it will end bitterly," she said in a +broken voice. "I will go home." + + + + +III + +She Goes Out to Battle against Depression + + +A few days later, before the month of August had expired, Eustacia +and Yeobright sat together at their early dinner. Eustacia's manner +had become of late almost apathetic. There was a forlorn look about +her beautiful eyes which, whether she deserved it or not, would have +excited pity in the breast of anyone who had known her during the full +flush of her love for Clym. The feelings of husband and wife varied, +in some measure, inversely with their positions. Clym, the afflicted +man, was cheerful; and he even tried to comfort her, who had never +felt a moment of physical suffering in her whole life. + +"Come, brighten up, dearest; we shall be all right again. Some day +perhaps I shall see as well as ever. And I solemnly promise that I'll +leave off cutting furze as soon as I have the power to do anything +better. You cannot seriously wish me to stay idling at home all day?" + +"But it is so dreadful--a furze-cutter! and you a man who have lived +about the world, and speak French, and German, and who are fit for +what is so much better than this." + +"I suppose when you first saw me and heard about me I was wrapped in +a sort of golden halo to your eyes--a man who knew glorious things, +and had mixed in brilliant scenes--in short, an adorable, delightful, +distracting hero?" + +"Yes," she said, sobbing. + +"And now I am a poor fellow in brown leather." + +"Don't taunt me. But enough of this. I will not be depressed any +more. I am going from home this afternoon, unless you greatly object. +There is to be a village picnic--a gipsying, they call it--at East +Egdon, and I shall go." + +"To dance?" + +"Why not? You can sing." + +"Well, well, as you will. Must I come to fetch you?" + +"If you return soon enough from your work. But do not inconvenience +yourself about it. I know the way home, and the heath has no terror +for me." + +"And can you cling to gaiety so eagerly as to walk all the way to a +village festival in search of it?" + +"Now, you don't like my going alone! Clym, you are not jealous?" + +"No. But I would come with you if it could give you any pleasure; +though, as things stand, perhaps you have too much of me already. +Still, I somehow wish that you did not want to go. Yes, perhaps I +am jealous; and who could be jealous with more reason than I, a +half-blind man, over such a woman as you?" + +"Don't think like it. Let me go, and don't take all my spirits away!" + +"I would rather lose all my own, my sweet wife. Go and do whatever +you like. Who can forbid your indulgence in any whim? You have all +my heart yet, I believe; and because you bear with me, who am in truth +a drag upon you, I owe you thanks. Yes, go alone and shine. As for +me, I will stick to my doom. At that kind of meeting people would +shun me. My hook and gloves are like the St. Lazarus rattle of the +leper, warning the world to get out of the way of a sight that would +sadden them." He kissed her, put on his leggings, and went out. + +When he was gone she rested her head upon her hands and said to +herself, "Two wasted lives--his and mine. And I am come to this! Will +it drive me out of my mind?" + +She cast about for any possible course which offered the least +improvement on the existing state of things, and could find none. She +imagined how all those Budmouth ones who should learn what had become +of her would say, "Look at the girl for whom nobody was good enough!" +To Eustacia the situation seemed such a mockery of her hopes that +death appeared the only door of relief if the satire of Heaven should +go much further. + +Suddenly she aroused herself and exclaimed, "But I'll shake it off. +Yes, I WILL shake it off! No one shall know my suffering. I'll be +bitterly merry, and ironically gay, and I'll laugh in derision. And +I'll begin by going to this dance on the green." + +She ascended to her bedroom and dressed herself with scrupulous +care. To an onlooker her beauty would have made her feelings almost +seem reasonable. The gloomy corner into which accident as much as +indiscretion had brought this woman might have led even a moderate +partisan to feel that she had cogent reasons for asking the Supreme +Power by what right a being of such exquisite finish had been placed +in circumstances calculated to make of her charms a curse rather than +a blessing. + +It was five in the afternoon when she came out from the house ready +for her walk. There was material enough in the picture for twenty new +conquests. The rebellious sadness that was rather too apparent when +she sat indoors without a bonnet was cloaked and softened by her +outdoor attire, which always had a sort of nebulousness about it, +devoid of harsh edges anywhere; so that her face looked from its +environment as from a cloud, with no noticeable lines of demarcation +between flesh and clothes. The heat of the day had scarcely declined +as yet, and she went along the sunny hills at a leisurely pace, there +being ample time for her idle expedition. Tall ferns buried her in +their leafage whenever her path lay through them, which now formed +miniature forests, though not one stem of them would remain to bud +the next year. + +The site chosen for the village festivity was one of the lawn-like +oases which were occasionally, yet not often, met with on the plateaux +of the heath district. The brakes of furze and fern terminated +abruptly round the margin, and the grass was unbroken. A green +cattle-track skirted the spot, without, however, emerging from +the screen of fern, and this path Eustacia followed, in order to +reconnoitre the group before joining it. The lusty notes of the +East Egdon band had directed her unerringly, and she now beheld +the musicians themselves, sitting in a blue waggon with red wheels +scrubbed as bright as new, and arched with sticks, to which boughs +and flowers were tied. In front of this was the grand central dance +of fifteen or twenty couples, flanked by minor dances of inferior +individuals whose gyrations were not always in strict keeping with +the tune. + +The young men wore blue and white rosettes, and with a flush on +their faces footed it to the girls, who, with the excitement and the +exercise, blushed deeper than the pink of their numerous ribbons. +Fair ones with long curls, fair ones with short curls, fair ones +with love-locks, fair ones with braids, flew round and round; and +a beholder might well have wondered how such a prepossessing set +of young women of like size, age, and disposition, could have been +collected together where there were only one or two villages to choose +from. In the background was one happy man dancing by himself, with +closed eyes, totally oblivious of all the rest. A fire was burning +under a pollard thorn a few paces off, over which three kettles hung +in a row. Hard by was a table where elderly dames prepared tea, but +Eustacia looked among them in vain for the cattle-dealer's wife who +had suggested that she should come, and had promised to obtain a +courteous welcome for her. + +This unexpected absence of the only local resident whom Eustacia knew +considerably damaged her scheme for an afternoon of reckless gaiety. +Joining in became a matter of difficulty, notwithstanding that, were +she to advance, cheerful dames would come forward with cups of tea +and make much of her as a stranger of superior grace and knowledge +to themselves. Having watched the company through the figures of two +dances, she decided to walk a little further, to a cottage where she +might get some refreshment, and then return homeward in the shady time +of evening. + +This she did; and by the time that she retraced her steps towards the +scene of the gipsying, which it was necessary to repass on her way +to Alderworth, the sun was going down. The air was now so still that +she could hear the band afar off, and it seemed to be playing with +more spirit, if that were possible, than when she had come away. On +reaching the hill the sun had quite disappeared; but this made little +difference either to Eustacia or to the revellers, for a round yellow +moon was rising before her, though its rays had not yet outmastered +those from the west. The dance was going on just the same, but +strangers had arrived and formed a ring around the figure, so that +Eustacia could stand among these without a chance of being recognized. + +A whole village-full of sensuous emotion, scattered abroad all the +year long, surged here in a focus for an hour. The forty hearts of +those waving couples were beating as they had not done since, twelve +months before, they had come together in similar jollity. For the +time paganism was revived in their hearts, the pride of life was all +in all, and they adored none other than themselves. + +How many of those impassioned but temporary embraces were destined to +become perpetual was possibly the wonder of some of those who indulged +in them, as well as of Eustacia who looked on. She began to envy +those pirouetters, to hunger for the hope and happiness which the +fascination of the dance seemed to engender within them. Desperately +fond of dancing herself, one of Eustacia's expectations of Paris +had been the opportunity it might afford her of indulgence in this +favourite pastime. Unhappily, that expectation was now extinct within +her for ever. + +Whilst she abstractedly watched them spinning and fluctuating in the +increasing moonlight she suddenly heard her name whispered by a voice +over her shoulder. Turning in surprise, she beheld at her elbow one +whose presence instantly caused her to flush to the temples. + +It was Wildeve. Till this moment he had not met her eye since the +morning of his marriage, when she had been loitering in the church, +and had startled him by lifting her veil and coming forward to +sign the register as witness. Yet why the sight of him should have +instigated that sudden rush of blood she could not tell. + +Before she could speak he whispered, "Do you like dancing as much as +ever?" + +"I think I do," she replied in a low voice. + +"Will you dance with me?" + +"It would be a great change for me; but will it not seem strange?" + +"What strangeness can there be in relations dancing together?" + +"Ah--yes, relations. Perhaps none." + +"Still, if you don't like to be seen, pull down your veil; though +there is not much risk of being known by this light. Lots of +strangers are here." + +She did as he suggested; and the act was a tacit acknowledgment that +she accepted his offer. + +Wildeve gave her his arm and took her down on the outside of the ring +to the bottom of the dance, which they entered. In two minutes more +they were involved in the figure and began working their way upwards +to the top. Till they had advanced halfway thither Eustacia wished +more than once that she had not yielded to his request; from the +middle to the top she felt that, since she had come out to seek +pleasure, she was only doing a natural thing to obtain it. Fairly +launched into the ceaseless glides and whirls which their new position +as top couple opened up to them, Eustacia's pulses began to move too +quickly for long rumination of any kind. + +Through the length of five-and-twenty couples they threaded their +giddy way, and a new vitality entered her form. The pale ray of +evening lent a fascination to the experience. There is a certain +degree and tone of light which tends to disturb the equilibrium of +the senses, and to promote dangerously the tenderer moods; added to +movement, it drives the emotions to rankness, the reason becoming +sleepy and unperceiving in inverse proportion; and this light fell now +upon these two from the disc of the moon. All the dancing girls felt +the symptoms, but Eustacia most of all. The grass under their feet +became trodden away, and the hard beaten surface of the sod, when +viewed aslant towards the moonlight, shone like a polished table. +The air became quite still, the flag above the waggon which held the +musicians clung to the pole, and the players appeared only in outline +against the sky; except when the circular mouths of the trombone, +ophicleide, and French horn gleamed out like huge eyes from the shade +of their figures. The pretty dresses of the maids lost their subtler +day colours and showed more or less of a misty white. Eustacia floated +round and round on Wildeve's arm, her face rapt and statuesque; her +soul had passed away from and forgotten her features, which were left +empty and quiescent, as they always are when feeling goes beyond their +register. + +How near she was to Wildeve! it was terrible to think of. She could +feel his breathing, and he, of course, could feel hers. How badly +she had treated him! yet, here they were treading one measure. The +enchantment of the dance surprised her. A clear line of difference +divided like a tangible fence her experience within this maze of +motion from her experience without it. Her beginning to dance had +been like a change of atmosphere; outside, she had been steeped in +arctic frigidity by comparison with the tropical sensations here. She +had entered the dance from the troubled hours of her late life as one +might enter a brilliant chamber after a night walk in a wood. Wildeve +by himself would have been merely an agitation; Wildeve added to the +dance, and the moonlight, and the secrecy, began to be a delight. +Whether his personality supplied the greater part of this sweetly +compounded feeling, or whether the dance and the scene weighed +the more therein, was a nice point upon which Eustacia herself was +entirely in a cloud. + +People began to say "Who are they?" but no invidious inquiries were +made. Had Eustacia mingled with the other girls in their ordinary +daily walks the case would have been different: here she was not +inconvenienced by excessive inspection, for all were wrought to their +brightest grace by the occasion. Like the planet Mercury surrounded +by the lustre of sunset, her permanent brilliancy passed without much +notice in the temporary glory of the situation. + +As for Wildeve, his feelings are easy to guess. Obstacles were a +ripening sun to his love, and he was at this moment in a delirium of +exquisite misery. To clasp as his for five minutes what was another +man's through all the rest of the year was a kind of thing he of +all men could appreciate. He had long since begun to sigh again +for Eustacia; indeed, it may be asserted that signing the marriage +register with Thomasin was the natural signal to his heart to return +to its first quarters, and that the extra complication of Eustacia's +marriage was the one addition required to make that return compulsory. + +Thus, for different reasons, what was to the rest an exhilarating +movement was to these two a riding upon the whirlwind. The dance had +come like an irresistible attack upon whatever sense of social order +there was in their minds, to drive them back into old paths which were +now doubly irregular. Through three dances in succession they spun +their way; and then, fatigued with the incessant motion, Eustacia +turned to quit the circle in which she had already remained too long. +Wildeve led her to a grassy mound a few yards distant, where she +sat down, her partner standing beside her. From the time that he +addressed her at the beginning of the dance till now they had not +exchanged a word. + +"The dance and the walking have tired you?" he said tenderly. + +"No; not greatly." + +"It is strange that we should have met here of all places, after +missing each other so long." + +"We have missed because we tried to miss, I suppose." + +"Yes. But you began that proceeding--by breaking a promise." + +"It is scarcely worth while to talk of that now. We have formed other +ties since then--you no less than I." + +"I am sorry to hear that your husband is ill." + +"He is not ill--only incapacitated." + +"Yes: that is what I mean. I sincerely sympathize with you in your +trouble. Fate has treated you cruelly." + +She was silent awhile. "Have you heard that he has chosen to work as +a furze-cutter?" she said in a low, mournful voice. + +"It has been mentioned to me," answered Wildeve hesitatingly. "But I +hardly believed it." + +"It is true. What do you think of me as a furze-cutter's wife?" + +"I think the same as ever of you, Eustacia. Nothing of that sort can +degrade you: you ennoble the occupation of your husband." + +"I wish I could feel it." + +"Is there any chance of Mr. Yeobright getting better?" + +"He thinks so. I doubt it." + +"I was quite surprised to hear that he had taken a cottage. I +thought, in common with other people, that he would have taken you +off to a home in Paris immediately after you had married him. 'What +a gay, bright future she has before her!' I thought. He will, I +suppose, return there with you, if his sight gets strong again?" + +Observing that she did not reply he regarded her more closely. She +was almost weeping. Images of a future never to be enjoyed, the +revived sense of her bitter disappointment, the picture of the +neighbours' suspended ridicule which was raised by Wildeve's words, +had been too much for proud Eustacia's equanimity. + +Wildeve could hardly control his own too forward feelings when he saw +her silent perturbation. But he affected not to notice this, and she +soon recovered her calmness. + +"You do not intend to walk home by yourself?" he asked. + +"O yes," said Eustacia. "What could hurt me on this heath, who have +nothing?" + +"By diverging a little I can make my way home the same as yours. I +shall be glad to keep you company as far as Throope Corner." Seeing +that Eustacia sat on in hesitation he added, "Perhaps you think it +unwise to be seen in the same road with me after the events of last +summer?" + +"Indeed I think no such thing," she said haughtily. "I shall accept +whose company I choose, for all that may be said by the miserable +inhabitants of Egdon." + +"Then let us walk on--if you are ready. Our nearest way is towards +that holly-bush with the dark shadow that you see down there." + +Eustacia arose, and walked beside him in the direction signified, +brushing her way over the damping heath and fern, and followed by the +strains of the merrymakers, who still kept up the dance. The moon had +now waxed bright and silvery, but the heath was proof against such +illumination, and there was to be observed the striking scene of a +dark, rayless tract of country under an atmosphere charged from its +zenith to its extremities with whitest light. To an eye above them +their two faces would have appeared amid the expanse like two pearls +on a table of ebony. + +On this account the irregularities of the path were not visible, and +Wildeve occasionally stumbled; whilst Eustacia found it necessary +to perform some graceful feats of balancing whenever a small tuft +of heather or root of furze protruded itself through the grass of +the narrow track and entangled her feet. At these junctures in her +progress a hand was invariably stretched forward to steady her, +holding her firmly until smooth ground was again reached, when the +hand was again withdrawn to a respectful distance. + +They performed the journey for the most part in silence, and drew +near to Throope Corner, a few hundred yards from which a short path +branched away to Eustacia's house. By degrees they discerned coming +towards them a pair of human figures, apparently of the male sex. + +When they came a little nearer Eustacia broke the silence by saying, +"One of those men is my husband. He promised to come to meet me." + +"And the other is my greatest enemy," said Wildeve. + +"It looks like Diggory Venn." + +"That is the man." + +"It is an awkward meeting," said she; "but such is my fortune. He +knows too much about me, unless he could know more, and so prove +to himself that what he now knows counts for nothing. Well, let it +be: you must deliver me up to them." + +"You will think twice before you direct me to do that. Here is a man +who has not forgotten an item in our meetings at Rainbarrow: he is in +company with your husband. Which of them, seeing us together here, +will believe that our meeting and dancing at the gipsy-party was by +chance?" + +"Very well," she whispered gloomily. "Leave me before they come up." + +Wildeve bade her a tender farewell, and plunged across the fern and +furze, Eustacia slowly walking on. In two or three minutes she met +her husband and his companion. + +"My journey ends here for tonight, reddleman," said Yeobright as soon +as he perceived her. "I turn back with this lady. Good night." + +"Good night, Mr. Yeobright," said Venn. "I hope to see you better +soon." + +The moonlight shone directly upon Venn's face as he spoke, and +revealed all its lines to Eustacia. He was looking suspiciously at +her. That Venn's keen eye had discerned what Yeobright's feeble +vision had not--a man in the act of withdrawing from Eustacia's +side--was within the limits of the probable. + +If Eustacia had been able to follow the reddleman she would soon have +found striking confirmation of her thought. No sooner had Clym given +her his arm and led her off the scene than the reddleman turned +back from the beaten track towards East Egdon, whither he had been +strolling merely to accompany Clym in his walk, Diggory's van being +again in the neighbourhood. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed +the pathless portion of the heath somewhat in the direction which +Wildeve had taken. Only a man accustomed to nocturnal rambles could +at this hour have descended those shaggy slopes with Venn's velocity +without falling headlong into a pit, or snapping off his leg by +jamming his foot into some rabbit burrow. But Venn went on without +much inconvenience to himself, and the course of his scamper was +towards the Quiet Woman Inn. This place he reached in about half an +hour, and he was well aware that no person who had been near Throope +Corner when he started could have got down here before him. + +The lonely inn was not yet closed, though scarcely an individual was +there, the business done being chiefly with travellers who passed the +inn on long journeys, and these had now gone on their way. Venn went +to the public room, called for a mug of ale, and inquired of the maid +in an indifferent tone if Mr. Wildeve was at home. + +Thomasin sat in an inner room and heard Venn's voice. When customers +were present she seldom showed herself, owing to her inherent dislike +for the business; but perceiving that no one else was there tonight +she came out. + +"He is not at home yet, Diggory," she said pleasantly. "But I +expected him sooner. He has been to East Egdon to buy a horse." + +"Did he wear a light wideawake?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I saw him at Throope Corner, leading one home," said Venn drily. +"A beauty, with a white face and a mane as black as night. He will +soon be here, no doubt." Rising and looking for a moment at the pure, +sweet face of Thomasin, over which a shadow of sadness had passed +since the time when he had last seen her, he ventured to add, "Mr. +Wildeve seems to be often away at this time." + +"O yes," cried Thomasin in what was intended to be a tone of gaiety. +"Husbands will play the truant, you know. I wish you could tell me of +some secret plan that would help me to keep him home at my will in +the evenings." + +"I will consider if I know of one," replied Venn in that same light +tone which meant no lightness. And then he bowed in a manner of his +own invention and moved to go. Thomasin offered him her hand; and +without a sigh, though with food for many, the reddleman went out. + +When Wildeve returned, a quarter of an hour later, Thomasin said +simply, and in the abashed manner usual with her now, "Where is the +horse, Damon?" + +"O, I have not bought it, after all. The man asks too much." + +"But somebody saw you at Throope Corner leading it home--a beauty, +with a white face and a mane as black as night." + +"Ah!" said Wildeve, fixing his eyes upon her; "who told you that?" + +"Venn the reddleman." + +The expression of Wildeve's face became curiously condensed. "That +is a mistake--it must have been some one else," he said slowly and +testily, for he perceived that Venn's countermoves had begun again. + + + + +IV + +Rough Coercion Is Employed + + +Those words of Thomasin, which seemed so little, but meant so much, +remained in the ears of Diggory Venn: "Help me to keep him home in the +evenings." + +On this occasion Venn had arrived on Egdon Heath only to cross to the +other side: he had no further connection with the interests of the +Yeobright family, and he had a business of his own to attend to. Yet +he suddenly began to feel himself drifting into the old track of +manoeuvring on Thomasin's account. + +He sat in his van and considered. From Thomasin's words and manner +he had plainly gathered that Wildeve neglected her. For whom could +he neglect her if not for Eustacia? Yet it was scarcely credible +that things had come to such a head as to indicate that Eustacia +systematically encouraged him. Venn resolved to reconnoitre somewhat +carefully the lonely road which led along the vale from Wildeve's +dwelling to Clym's house at Alderworth. + +At this time, as had been seen, Wildeve was quite innocent of any +predetermined act of intrigue, and except at the dance on the green +he had not once met Eustacia since her marriage. But that the spirit +of intrigue was in him had been shown by a recent romantic habit of +his: a habit of going out after dark and strolling towards Alderworth, +there looking at the moon and stars, looking at Eustacia's house, and +walking back at leisure. + +Accordingly, when watching on the night after the festival, the +reddleman saw him ascend by the little path, lean over the front gate +of Clym's garden, sigh, and turn to go back again. It was plain that +Wildeve's intrigue was rather ideal than real. Venn retreated before +him down the hill to a place where the path was merely a deep groove +between the heather; here he mysteriously bent over the ground for a +few minutes, and retired. When Wildeve came on to that spot his ankle +was caught by something, and he fell headlong. + +As soon as he had recovered the power of respiration he sat up and +listened. There was not a sound in the gloom beyond the spiritless +stir of the summer wind. Feeling about for the obstacle which had +flung him down, he discovered that two tufts of heath had been tied +together across the path, forming a loop, which to a traveller was +certain overthrow. Wildeve pulled off the string that bound them, and +went on with tolerable quickness. On reaching home he found the cord +to be of a reddish colour. It was just what he had expected. + +Although his weaknesses were not specially those akin to physical +fear, the species of _coup-de-Jarnac_ from one he knew too well +troubled the mind of Wildeve. But his movements were unaltered +thereby. A night or two later he again went along the vale to +Alderworth, taking the precaution of keeping out of any path. The +sense that he was watched, that craft was employed to circumvent his +errant tastes, added piquancy to a journey so entirely sentimental, +so long as the danger was of no fearful sort. He imagined that Venn +and Mrs. Yeobright were in league, and felt that there was a certain +legitimacy in combating such a coalition. + +The heath tonight appeared to be totally deserted: and Wildeve, after +looking over Eustacia's garden gate for some little time, with a cigar +in his mouth, was tempted by the fascination that emotional smuggling +had for his nature to advance towards the window, which was not quite +closed, the blind being only partly drawn down. He could see into +the room, and Eustacia was sitting there alone. Wildeve contemplated +her for a minute, and then retreating into the heath beat the ferns +lightly, whereupon moths flew out alarmed. Securing one, he returned +to the window, and holding the moth to the chink, opened his hand. +The moth made towards the candle upon Eustacia's table, hovered round +it two or three times, and flew into the flame. + +Eustacia started up. This had been a well-known signal in old times +when Wildeve had used to come secretly wooing to Mistover. She at +once knew that Wildeve was outside, but before she could consider +what to do her husband came in from upstairs. Eustacia's face burnt +crimson at the unexpected collision of incidents, and filled it with +an animation that it too frequently lacked. + +"You have a very high colour, dearest," said Yeobright, when he came +close enough to see it. "Your appearance would be no worse if it were +always so." + +"I am warm," said Eustacia. "I think I will go into the air for a few +minutes." + +"Shall I go with you?" + +"O no. I am only going to the gate." + +She arose, but before she had time to get out of the room a loud +rapping began upon the front door. + +"I'll go--I'll go," said Eustacia in an unusually quick tone for her; +and she glanced eagerly towards the window whence the moth had flown; +but nothing appeared there. + +"You had better not at this time of the evening," he said. Clym +stepped before her into the passage, and Eustacia waited, her +somnolent manner covering her inner heat and agitation. + +She listened, and Clym opened the door. No words were uttered +outside, and presently he closed it and came back, saying, "Nobody +was there. I wonder what that could have meant?" + +He was left to wonder during the rest of the evening, for no +explanation offered itself, and Eustacia said nothing, the additional +fact that she knew of only adding more mystery to the performance. + +Meanwhile a little drama had been acted outside which saved Eustacia +from all possibility of compromising herself that evening at least. +While Wildeve had been preparing his moth-signal another person had +come behind him up to the gate. This man, who carried a gun in his +hand, looked on for a moment at the other's operation by the window, +walked up to the house, knocked at the door, and then vanished round +the corner and over the hedge. + +"Damn him!" said Wildeve. "He has been watching me again." + +As his signal had been rendered futile by this uproarious rapping +Wildeve withdrew, passed out at the gate, and walked quickly down +the path without thinking of anything except getting away unnoticed. +Half-way down the hill the path ran near a knot of stunted hollies, +which in the general darkness of the scene stood as the pupil in a +black eye. When Wildeve reached this point a report startled his ear, +and a few spent gunshots fell among the leaves around him. + +There was no doubt that he himself was the cause of that gun's +discharge; and he rushed into the clump of hollies, beating the bushes +furiously with his stick; but nobody was there. This attack was a +more serious matter than the last, and it was some time before Wildeve +recovered his equanimity. A new and most unpleasant system of menace +had begun, and the intent appeared to be to do him grievous bodily +harm. Wildeve had looked upon Venn's first attempt as a species of +horse-play, which the reddleman had indulged in for want of knowing +better; but now the boundary line was passed which divides the +annoying from the perilous. + +Had Wildeve known how thoroughly in earnest Venn had become he +might have been still more alarmed. The reddleman had been almost +exasperated by the sight of Wildeve outside Clym's house, and he was +prepared to go to any lengths short of absolutely shooting him, to +terrify the young innkeeper out of his recalcitrant impulses. The +doubtful legitimacy of such rough coercion did not disturb the mind +of Venn. It troubles few such minds in such cases, and sometimes this +is not to be regretted. From the impeachment of Strafford to Farmer +Lynch's short way with the scamps of Virginia there have been many +triumphs of justice which are mockeries of law. + +About half a mile below Clym's secluded dwelling lay a hamlet where +lived one of the two constables who preserved the peace in the parish +of Alderworth, and Wildeve went straight to the constable's cottage. +Almost the first thing that he saw on opening the door was the +constable's truncheon hanging to a nail, as if to assure him that +here were the means to his purpose. On inquiry, however, of the +constable's wife he learnt that the constable was not at home. +Wildeve said he would wait. + +The minutes ticked on, and the constable did not arrive. Wildeve +cooled down from his state of high indignation to a restless +dissatisfaction with himself, the scene, the constable's wife, and the +whole set of circumstances. He arose and left the house. Altogether, +the experience of that evening had had a cooling, not to say a +chilling, effect on misdirected tenderness, and Wildeve was in no +mood to ramble again to Alderworth after nightfall in hope of a stray +glance from Eustacia. + +Thus far the reddleman had been tolerably successful in his rude +contrivances for keeping down Wildeve's inclination to rove in the +evening. He had nipped in the bud the possible meeting between +Eustacia and her old lover this very night. But he had not +anticipated that the tendency of his action would be to divert +Wildeve's movement rather than to stop it. The gambling with the +guineas had not conduced to make him a welcome guest to Clym; but to +call upon his wife's relative was natural, and he was determined to +see Eustacia. It was necessary to choose some less untoward hour than +ten o'clock at night. "Since it is unsafe to go in the evening," he +said, "I'll go by day." + +Meanwhile Venn had left the heath and gone to call upon Mrs. +Yeobright, with whom he had been on friendly terms since she had +learnt what a providential countermove he had made towards the +restitution of the family guineas. She wondered at the lateness of +his call, but had no objection to see him. + +He gave her a full account of Clym's affliction, and of the state in +which he was living; then, referring to Thomasin, touched gently upon +the apparent sadness of her days. "Now, ma'am, depend upon it," he +said, "you couldn't do a better thing for either of 'em than to make +yourself at home in their houses, even if there should be a little +rebuff at first." + +"Both she and my son disobeyed me in marrying; therefore I have +no interest in their households. Their troubles are of their own +making." Mrs. Yeobright tried to speak severely; but the account of +her son's state had moved her more than she cared to show. + +"Your visits would make Wildeve walk straighter than he is inclined +to do, and might prevent unhappiness down the heath." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I saw something tonight out there which I didn't like at all. I wish +your son's house and Mr. Wildeve's were a hundred miles apart instead +of four or five." + +"Then there WAS an understanding between him and Clym's wife when he +made a fool of Thomasin!" + +"We'll hope there's no understanding now." + +"And our hope will probably be very vain. O Clym! O Thomasin!" + +"There's no harm done yet. In fact, I've persuaded Wildeve to mind +his own business." + +"How?" + +"O, not by talking--by a plan of mine called the silent system." + +"I hope you'll succeed." + +"I shall if you help me by calling and making friends with your son. +You'll have a chance then of using your eyes." + +"Well, since it has come to this," said Mrs. Yeobright sadly, "I will +own to you, reddleman, that I thought of going. I should be much +happier if we were reconciled. The marriage is unalterable, my life +may be cut short, and I should wish to die in peace. He is my only +son; and since sons are made of such stuff I am not sorry I have no +other. As for Thomasin, I never expected much from her; and she has +not disappointed me. But I forgave her long ago; and I forgive him +now. I'll go." + +At this very time of the reddleman's conversation with Mrs. Yeobright +at Blooms-End another conversation on the same subject was languidly +proceeding at Alderworth. + +All the day Clym had borne himself as if his mind were too full of its +own matter to allow him to care about outward things, and his words +now showed what had occupied his thoughts. It was just after the +mysterious knocking that he began the theme. "Since I have been away +today, Eustacia, I have considered that something must be done to heal +up this ghastly breach between my dear mother and myself. It troubles +me." + +"What do you propose to do?" said Eustacia abstractedly, for she could +not clear away from her the excitement caused by Wildeve's recent +manoeuvre for an interview. + +"You seem to take a very mild interest in what I propose, little or +much," said Clym, with tolerable warmth. + +"You mistake me," she answered, reviving at his reproach. "I am only +thinking." + +"What of?" + +"Partly of that moth whose skeleton is getting burnt up in the wick of +the candle," she said slowly. "But you know I always take an interest +in what you say." + +"Very well, dear. Then I think I must go and call upon her."... He +went on with tender feeling: "It is a thing I am not at all too proud +to do, and only a fear that I might irritate her has kept me away so +long. But I must do something. It is wrong in me to allow this sort +of thing to go on." + +"What have you to blame yourself about?" + +"She is getting old, and her life is lonely, and I am her only son." + +"She has Thomasin." + +"Thomasin is not her daughter; and if she were that would not excuse +me. But this is beside the point. I have made up my mind to go to +her, and all I wish to ask you is whether you will do your best to +help me--that is, forget the past; and if she shows her willingness to +be reconciled, meet her half-way by welcoming her to our house, or by +accepting a welcome to hers?" + +At first Eustacia closed her lips as if she would rather do anything +on the whole globe than what he suggested. But the lines of her mouth +softened with thought, though not so far as they might have softened; +and she said, "I will put nothing in your way; but after what has +passed it is asking too much that I go and make advances." + +"You never distinctly told me what did pass between you." + +"I could not do it then, nor can I now. Sometimes more bitterness is +sown in five minutes than can be got rid of in a whole life; and that +may be the case here." She paused a few moments, and added, "If you +had never returned to your native place, Clym, what a blessing it +would have been for you!... It has altered the destinies of--" + +"Three people." + +"Five," Eustacia thought; but she kept that in. + + + + +V + +The Journey across the Heath + + +Thursday, the thirty-first of August, was one of a series of days +during which snug houses were stifling, and when cool draughts were +treats; when cracks appeared in clayey gardens, and were called +"earthquakes" by apprehensive children; when loose spokes were +discovered in the wheels of carts and carriages; and when stinging +insects haunted the air, the earth, and every drop of water that was +to be found. + +In Mrs. Yeobright's garden large-leaved plants of a tender kind +flagged by ten o'clock in the morning; rhubarb bent downward at +eleven; and even stiff cabbages were limp by noon. + +It was about eleven o'clock on this day that Mrs. Yeobright started +across the heath towards her son's house, to do her best in getting +reconciled with him and Eustacia, in conformity with her words to the +reddleman. She had hoped to be well advanced in her walk before the +heat of the day was at its highest, but after setting out she found +that this was not to be done. The sun had branded the whole heath +with his mark, even the purple heath-flowers having put on a brownness +under the dry blazes of the few preceding days. Every valley was +filled with air like that of a kiln, and the clean quartz sand of +the winter water-courses, which formed summer paths, had undergone +a species of incineration since the drought had set in. + +In cool, fresh weather Mrs. Yeobright would have found no +inconvenience in walking to Alderworth, but the present torrid attack +made the journey a heavy undertaking for a woman past middle age; and +at the end of the third mile she wished that she had hired Fairway to +drive her a portion at least of the distance. But from the point at +which she had arrived it was as easy to reach Clym's house as to get +home again. So she went on, the air around her pulsating silently, +and oppressing the earth with lassitude. She looked at the sky +overhead, and saw that the sapphirine hue of the zenith in spring and +early summer had been replaced by a metallic violet. + +Occasionally she came to a spot where independent worlds of ephemerons +were passing their time in mad carousal, some in the air, some on the +hot ground and vegetation, some in the tepid and stringy water of a +nearly dried pool. All the shallower ponds had decreased to a vaporous +mud amid which the maggoty shapes of innumerable obscure creatures +could be indistinctly seen, heaving and wallowing with enjoyment. +Being a woman not disinclined to philosophize she sometimes sat down +under her umbrella to rest and to watch their happiness, for a certain +hopefulness as to the result of her visit gave ease to her mind, and +between important thoughts left it free to dwell on any infinitesimal +matter which caught her eyes. + +Mrs. Yeobright had never before been to her son's house, and its +exact position was unknown to her. She tried one ascending path and +another, and found that they led her astray. Retracing her steps, she +came again to an open level, where she perceived at a distance a man +at work. She went towards him and inquired the way. + +The labourer pointed out the direction, and added, "Do you see that +furze-cutter, ma'am, going up that footpath yond?" + +Mrs. Yeobright strained her eyes, and at last said that she did +perceive him. + +"Well, if you follow him you can make no mistake. He's going to the +same place, ma'am." + +She followed the figure indicated. He appeared of a russet hue, +not more distinguishable from the scene around him than the green +caterpillar from the leaf it feeds on. His progress when actually +walking was more rapid than Mrs. Yeobright's; but she was enabled to +keep at an equable distance from him by his habit of stopping whenever +he came to a brake of brambles, where he paused awhile. On coming +in her turn to each of these spots she found half a dozen long limp +brambles which he had cut from the bush during his halt and laid +out straight beside the path. They were evidently intended for +furze-faggot bonds which he meant to collect on his return. + +The silent being who thus occupied himself seemed to be of no more +account in life than an insect. He appeared as a mere parasite of the +heath, fretting its surface in his daily labour as a moth frets a +garment, entirely engrossed with its products, having no knowledge of +anything in the world but fern, furze, heath, lichens, and moss. + +The furze-cutter was so absorbed in the business of his journey that +he never turned his head; and his leather-legged and gauntleted form +at length became to her as nothing more than a moving handpost to +show her the way. Suddenly she was attracted to his individuality +by observing peculiarities in his walk. It was a gait she had seen +somewhere before; and the gait revealed the man to her, as the gait +of Ahimaaz in the distant plain made him known to the watchman of the +king. "His walk is exactly as my husband's used to be," she said; and +then the thought burst upon her that the furze-cutter was her son. + +She was scarcely able to familiarize herself with this strange +reality. She had been told that Clym was in the habit of cutting +furze, but she had supposed that he occupied himself with the labour +only at odd times, by way of useful pastime; yet she now beheld him as +a furze-cutter and nothing more--wearing the regulation dress of the +craft, and thinking the regulation thoughts, to judge by his motions. +Planning a dozen hasty schemes for at once preserving him and Eustacia +from this mode of life she throbbingly followed the way, and saw him +enter his own door. + +At one side of Clym's house was a knoll, and on the top of the knoll a +clump of fir trees so highly thrust up into the sky that their foliage +from a distance appeared as a black spot in the air above the crown +of the hill. On reaching this place Mrs. Yeobright felt distressingly +agitated, weary, and unwell. She ascended, and sat down under their +shade to recover herself, and to consider how best to break the ground +with Eustacia, so as not to irritate a woman underneath whose apparent +indolence lurked passions even stronger and more active than her own. + +The trees beneath which she sat were singularly battered, rude, and +wild, and for a few minutes Mrs. Yeobright dismissed thoughts of her +own storm-broken and exhausted state to contemplate theirs. Not a +bough in the nine trees which composed the group but was splintered, +lopped, and distorted by the fierce weather that there held them at +its mercy whenever it prevailed. Some were blasted and split as if by +lightning, black stains as from fire marking their sides, while the +ground at their feet was strewn with dead fir-needles and heaps of +cones blown down in the gales of past years. The place was called the +Devil's Bellows, and it was only necessary to come there on a March or +November night to discover the forcible reasons for that name. On the +present heated afternoon, when no perceptible wind was blowing, the +trees kept up a perpetual moan which one could hardly believe to be +caused by the air. + +Here she sat for twenty minutes or more ere she could summon +resolution to go down to the door, her courage being lowered to zero +by her physical lassitude. To any other person than a mother it might +have seemed a little humiliating that she, the elder of the two women, +should be the first to make advances. But Mrs. Yeobright had well +considered all that, and she only thought how best to make her visit +appear to Eustacia not abject but wise. + +From her elevated position the exhausted woman could perceive the roof +of the house below, and the garden and the whole enclosure of the +little domicile. And now, at the moment of rising, she saw a second +man approaching the gate. His manner was peculiar, hesitating, and +not that of a person come on business or by invitation. He surveyed +the house with interest, and then walked round and scanned the outer +boundary of the garden, as one might have done had it been the +birthplace of Shakespeare, the prison of Mary Stuart, or the Chateau +of Hougomont. After passing round and again reaching the gate he went +in. Mrs. Yeobright was vexed at this, having reckoned on finding her +son and his wife by themselves; but a moment's thought showed her that +the presence of an acquaintance would take off the awkwardness of +her first appearance in the house, by confining the talk to general +matters until she had begun to feel comfortable with them. She came +down the hill to the gate, and looked into the hot garden. + +There lay the cat asleep on the bare gravel of the path, as if beds, +rugs, and carpets were unendurable. The leaves of the hollyhocks hung +like half-closed umbrellas, the sap almost simmered in the stems, and +foliage with a smooth surface glared like metallic mirrors. A small +apple tree, of the sort called Ratheripe, grew just inside the gate, +the only one which throve in the garden, by reason of the lightness of +the soil; and among the fallen apples on the ground beneath were wasps +rolling drunk with the juice, or creeping about the little caves in +each fruit which they had eaten out before stupefied by its sweetness. +By the door lay Clym's furze-hook and the last handful of faggot-bonds +she had seen him gather; they had plainly been thrown down there as he +entered the house. + + + + +VI + +A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian + + +Wildeve, as has been stated, was determined to visit Eustacia boldly, +by day, and on the easy terms of a relation, since the reddleman +had spied out and spoilt his walks to her by night. The spell that +she had thrown over him in the moonlight dance made it impossible +for a man having no strong puritanic force within him to keep away +altogether. He merely calculated on meeting her and her husband in an +ordinary manner, chatting a little while, and leaving again. Every +outward sign was to be conventional; but the one great fact would be +there to satisfy him: he would see her. He did not even desire Clym's +absence, since it was just possible that Eustacia might resent any +situation which could compromise her dignity as a wife, whatever the +state of her heart towards him. Women were often so. + +He went accordingly; and it happened that the time of his arrival +coincided with that of Mrs. Yeobright's pause on the hill near the +house. When he had looked round the premises in the manner she had +noticed he went and knocked at the door. There was a few minutes' +interval, and then the key turned in the lock, the door opened, and +Eustacia herself confronted him. + +Nobody could have imagined from her bearing now that here stood the +woman who had joined with him in the impassioned dance of the week +before, unless indeed he could have penetrated below the surface and +gauged the real depth of that still stream. + +"I hope you reached home safely?" said Wildeve. + +"O yes," she carelessly returned. + +"And were you not tired the next day? I feared you might be." + +"I was rather. You need not speak low--nobody will overhear us. My +small servant is gone on an errand to the village." + +"Then Clym is not at home?" + +"Yes, he is." + +"O! I thought that perhaps you had locked the door because you were +alone and were afraid of tramps." + +"No--here is my husband." + +They had been standing in the entry. Closing the front door and +turning the key, as before, she threw open the door of the adjoining +room and asked him to walk in. Wildeve entered, the room appearing to +be empty; but as soon as he had advanced a few steps he started. On +the hearth rug lay Clym asleep. Beside him were the leggings, thick +boots, leather gloves, and sleeve-waistcoat in which he worked. + +"You may go in; you will not disturb him," she said, following behind. +"My reason for fastening the door is that he may not be intruded upon +by any chance comer while lying here, if I should be in the garden or +upstairs." + +"Why is he sleeping there?" said Wildeve in low tones. + +"He is very weary. He went out at half-past four this morning, and +has been working ever since. He cuts furze because it is the only +thing he can do that does not put any strain upon his poor eyes." The +contrast between the sleeper's appearance and Wildeve's at this moment +was painfully apparent to Eustacia, Wildeve being elegantly dressed +in a new summer suit and light hat; and she continued: "Ah! you don't +know how differently he appeared when I first met him, though it is +such a little while ago. His hands were as white and soft as mine; +and look at them now, how rough and brown they are! His complexion is +by nature fair, and that rusty look he has now, all of a colour with +his leather clothes, is caused by the burning of the sun." + +"Why does he go out at all?" Wildeve whispered. + +"Because he hates to be idle; though what he earns doesn't add much +to our exchequer. However, he says that when people are living upon +their capital they must keep down current expenses by turning a penny +where they can." + +"The fates have not been kind to you, Eustacia Yeobright." + +"I have nothing to thank them for." + +"Nor has he--except for their one great gift to him." + +"What's that?" + +Wildeve looked her in the eyes. + +Eustacia blushed for the first time that day. "Well, I am a +questionable gift," she said quietly. "I thought you meant the gift +of content--which he has, and I have not." + +"I can understand content in such a case--though how the outward +situation can attract him puzzles me." + +"That's because you don't know him. He's an enthusiast about ideas, +and careless about outward things. He often reminds me of the Apostle +Paul." + +"I am glad to hear that he's so grand in character as that." + +"Yes; but the worst of it is that though Paul was excellent as a man +in the Bible he would hardly have done in real life." + +Their voices had instinctively dropped lower, though at first they +had taken no particular care to avoid awakening Clym. "Well, if that +means that your marriage is a misfortune to you, you know who is to +blame," said Wildeve. + +"The marriage is no misfortune in itself," she retorted with some +little petulance. "It is simply the accident which has happened since +that has been the cause of my ruin. I have certainly got thistles for +figs in a worldly sense, but how could I tell what time would bring +forth?" + +"Sometimes, Eustacia, I think it is a judgment upon you. You rightly +belonged to me, you know; and I had no idea of losing you." + +"No, it was not my fault! Two could not belong to you; and remember +that, before I was aware, you turned aside to another woman. It was +cruel levity in you to do that. I never dreamt of playing such a game +on my side till you began it on yours." + +"I meant nothing by it," replied Wildeve. "It was a mere interlude. +Men are given to the trick of having a passing fancy for somebody else +in the midst of a permanent love, which reasserts itself afterwards +just as before. On account of your rebellious manner to me I was +tempted to go further than I should have done; and when you still +would keep playing the same tantalizing part I went further still, +and married her." Turning and looking again at the unconscious form +of Clym, he murmured, "I am afraid that you don't value your prize, +Clym... He ought to be happier than I in one thing at least. He may +know what it is to come down in the world, and to be afflicted with a +great personal calamity; but he probably doesn't know what it is to +lose the woman he loved." + +"He is not ungrateful for winning her," whispered Eustacia, "and in +that respect he is a good man. Many women would go far for such a +husband. But do I desire unreasonably much in wanting what is called +life--music, poetry, passion, war, and all the beating and pulsing +that are going on in the great arteries of the world? That was the +shape of my youthful dream; but I did not get it. Yet I thought I saw +the way to it in my Clym." + +"And you only married him on that account?" + +"There you mistake me. I married him because I loved him, but I won't +say that I didn't love him partly because I thought I saw a promise of +that life in him." + +"You have dropped into your old mournful key." + +"But I am not going to be depressed," she cried perversely. "I began +a new system by going to that dance, and I mean to stick to it. Clym +can sing merrily; why should not I?" + +Wildeve looked thoughtfully at her. "It is easier to say you will +sing than to do it; though if I could I would encourage you in your +attempt. But as life means nothing to me, without one thing which is +now impossible, you will forgive me for not being able to encourage +you." + +"Damon, what is the matter with you, that you speak like that?" she +asked, raising her deep shady eyes to his. + +"That's a thing I shall never tell plainly; and perhaps if I try to +tell you in riddles you will not care to guess them." + +Eustacia remained silent for a minute, and she said, "We are in a +strange relationship today. You mince matters to an uncommon nicety. +You mean, Damon, that you still love me. Well, that gives me sorrow, +for I am not made so entirely happy by my marriage that I am willing +to spurn you for the information, as I ought to do. But we have said +too much about this. Do you mean to wait until my husband is awake?" + +"I thought to speak to him; but it is unnecessary. Eustacia, if I +offend you by not forgetting you, you are right to mention it; but do +not talk of spurning." + +She did not reply, and they stood looking musingly at Clym as he slept +on in that profound sleep which is the result of physical labour +carried on in circumstances that wake no nervous fear. + +"God, how I envy him that sweet sleep!" said Wildeve. "I have not +slept like that since I was a boy--years and years ago." + +While they thus watched him a click at the gate was audible, and a +knock came to the door. Eustacia went to a window and looked out. + +Her countenance changed. First she became crimson, and then the red +subsided till it even partially left her lips. + +"Shall I go away?" said Wildeve, standing up. + +"I hardly know." + +"Who is it?" + +"Mrs. Yeobright. O, what she said to me that day! I cannot understand +this visit--what does she mean? And she suspects that past time of +ours." + +"I am in your hands. If you think she had better not see me here I'll +go into the next room." + +"Well, yes: go." + +Wildeve at once withdrew; but before he had been half a minute in the +adjoining apartment Eustacia came after him. + +"No," she said, "we won't have any of this. If she comes in she must +see you--and think if she likes there's something wrong! But how can I +open the door to her, when she dislikes me--wishes to see not me, but +her son? I won't open the door!" + +Mrs. Yeobright knocked again more loudly. + +"Her knocking will, in all likelihood, awaken him," continued +Eustacia, "and then he will let her in himself. Ah--listen." + +They could hear Clym moving in the other room, as if disturbed by the +knocking, and he uttered the word "Mother." + +"Yes--he is awake--he will go to the door," she said, with a breath of +relief. "Come this way. I have a bad name with her, and you must not +be seen. Thus I am obliged to act by stealth, not because I do ill, +but because others are pleased to say so." + +By this time she had taken him to the back door, which was open, +disclosing a path leading down the garden. "Now, one word, Damon," +she remarked as he stepped forth. "This is your first visit here; let +it be your last. We have been hot lovers in our time, but it won't do +now. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," said Wildeve. "I have had all I came for, and I am +satisfied." + +"What was it?" + +"A sight of you. Upon my eternal honour I came for no more." + +Wildeve kissed his hand to the beautiful girl he addressed, and passed +into the garden, where she watched him down the path, over the stile +at the end, and into the ferns outside, which brushed his hips as he +went along till he became lost in their thickets. When he had quite +gone she slowly turned, and directed her attention to the interior of +the house. + +But it was possible that her presence might not be desired by Clym +and his mother at this moment of their first meeting, or that it +would be superfluous. At all events, she was in no hurry to meet Mrs. +Yeobright. She resolved to wait till Clym came to look for her, and +glided back into the garden. Here she idly occupied herself for a few +minutes, till finding no notice was taken of her she retraced her +steps through the house to the front, where she listened for voices +in the parlour. But hearing none she opened the door and went in. To +her astonishment Clym lay precisely as Wildeve and herself had left +him, his sleep apparently unbroken. He had been disturbed and made to +dream and murmur by the knocking, but he had not awakened. Eustacia +hastened to the door, and in spite of her reluctance to open it to a +woman who had spoken of her so bitterly, she unfastened it and looked +out. Nobody was to be seen. There, by the scraper, lay Clym's hook +and the handful of faggot-bonds he had brought home; in front of her +were the empty path, the garden gate standing slightly ajar; and, +beyond, the great valley of purple heath thrilling silently in the +sun. Mrs. Yeobright was gone. + + + +Clym's mother was at this time following a path which lay hidden from +Eustacia by a shoulder of the hill. Her walk thither from the garden +gate had been hasty and determined, as of a woman who was now no less +anxious to escape from the scene than she had previously been to enter +it. Her eyes were fixed on the ground; within her two sights were +graven--that of Clym's hook and brambles at the door, and that of a +woman's face at a window. Her lips trembled, becoming unnaturally +thin as she murmured, "'Tis too much--Clym, how can he bear to do it! +He is at home; and yet he lets her shut the door against me!" + +In her anxiety to get out of the direct view of the house she had +diverged from the straightest path homeward, and while looking about +to regain it she came upon a little boy gathering whortleberries in +a hollow. The boy was Johnny Nunsuch, who had been Eustacia's stoker +at the bonfire, and, with the tendency of a minute body to gravitate +towards a greater, he began hovering round Mrs. Yeobright as soon as +she appeared, and trotted on beside her without perceptible +consciousness of his act. + +Mrs. Yeobright spoke to him as one in a mesmeric sleep. "'Tis a long +way home, my child, and we shall not get there till evening." + +"I shall," said her small companion. "I am going to play marnels +afore supper, and we go to supper at six o'clock, because father comes +home. Does your father come home at six too?" + +"No, he never comes; nor my son either, nor anybody." + +"What have made you so down? Have you seen a ooser?" + +"I have seen what's worse--a woman's face looking at me through a +window-pane." + +"Is that a bad sight?" + +"Yes. It is always a bad sight to see a woman looking out at a weary +wayfarer and not letting her in." + +"Once when I went to Throope Great Pond to catch effets I seed myself +looking up at myself, and I was frightened and jumped back like +anything." + +..."If they had only shown signs of meeting my advances half-way how +well it might have been done! But there is no chance. Shut out! She +must have set him against me. Can there be beautiful bodies without +hearts inside? I think so. I would not have done it against a +neighbour's cat on such a fiery day as this!" + +"What is it you say?" + +"Never again--never! Not even if they send for me!" + +"You must be a very curious woman to talk like that." + +"O no, not at all," she said, returning to the boy's prattle. "Most +people who grow up and have children talk as I do. When you grow up +your mother will talk as I do too." + +"I hope she won't; because 'tis very bad to talk nonsense." + +"Yes, child; it is nonsense, I suppose. Are you not nearly spent with +the heat?" + +"Yes. But not so much as you be." + +"How do you know?" + +"Your face is white and wet, and your head is hanging-down-like." + +"Ah, I am exhausted from inside." + +"Why do you, every time you take a step, go like this?" The child in +speaking gave to his motion the jerk and limp of an invalid. + +"Because I have a burden which is more than I can bear." + +The little boy remained silently pondering, and they tottered on side +by side until more than a quarter of an hour had elapsed, when Mrs. +Yeobright, whose weakness plainly increased, said to him, "I must sit +down here to rest." + +When she had seated herself he looked long in her face and said, "How +funny you draw your breath--like a lamb when you drive him till he's +nearly done for. Do you always draw your breath like that?" + +"Not always." Her voice was now so low as to be scarcely above a +whisper. + +"You will go to sleep there, I suppose, won't you? You have shut your +eyes already." + +"No. I shall not sleep much till--another day, and then I hope to have +a long, long one--very long. Now can you tell me if Rimsmoor Pond is +dry this summer?" + +"Rimsmoor Pond is, but Oker's Pool isn't, because he is deep, and is +never dry--'tis just over there." + +"Is the water clear?" + +"Yes, middling--except where the heath-croppers walk into it." + +"Then, take this, and go as fast as you can, and dip me up the +clearest you can find. I am very faint." + +She drew from the small willow reticule that she carried in her hand +an old-fashioned china teacup without a handle; it was one of half a +dozen of the same sort lying in the reticule, which she had preserved +ever since her childhood, and had brought with her today as a small +present for Clym and Eustacia. + +The boy started on his errand, and soon came back with the water, +such as it was. Mrs. Yeobright attempted to drink, but it was so warm +as to give her nausea, and she threw it away. Afterwards she still +remained sitting, with her eyes closed. + +The boy waited, played near her, caught several of the little brown +butterflies which abounded, and then said as he waited again, "I like +going on better than biding still. Will you soon start again?" + +"I don't know." + +"I wish I might go on by myself," he resumed, fearing, apparently, +that he was to be pressed into some unpleasant service. "Do you want +me any more, please?" + +Mrs. Yeobright made no reply. + +"What shall I tell mother?" the boy continued. + +"Tell her you have seen a broken-hearted woman cast off by her son." + +Before quite leaving her he threw upon her face a wistful glance, +as if he had misgivings on the generosity of forsaking her thus. He +gazed into her face in a vague, wondering manner, like that of one +examining some strange old manuscript the key to whose characters +is undiscoverable. He was not so young as to be absolutely without +a sense that sympathy was demanded, he was not old enough to be +free from the terror felt in childhood at beholding misery in adult +quarters hitherto deemed impregnable; and whether she were in a +position to cause trouble or to suffer from it, whether she and her +affliction were something to pity or something to fear, it was beyond +him to decide. He lowered his eyes and went on without another word. +Before he had gone half a mile he had forgotten all about her, except +that she was a woman who had sat down to rest. + +Mrs. Yeobright's exertions, physical and emotional, had well-nigh +prostrated her; but she continued to creep along in short stages with +long breaks between. The sun had now got far to the west of south and +stood directly in her face, like some merciless incendiary, brand +in hand, waiting to consume her. With the departure of the boy +all visible animation disappeared from the landscape, though the +intermittent husky notes of the male grasshoppers from every tuft of +furze were enough to show that amid the prostration of the larger +animal species an unseen insect world was busy in all the fullness of +life. + +In two hours she reached a slope about three-fourths the whole +distance from Alderworth to her own home, where a little patch of +shepherd's-thyme intruded upon the path; and she sat down upon the +perfumed mat it formed there. In front of her a colony of ants had +established a thoroughfare across the way, where they toiled a +never-ending and heavy-laden throng. To look down upon them was like +observing a city street from the top of a tower. She remembered +that this bustle of ants had been in progress for years at the same +spot--doubtless those of the old times were the ancestors of these +which walked there now. She leant back to obtain more thorough rest, +and the soft eastern portion of the sky was as great a relief to her +eyes as the thyme was to her head. While she looked a heron arose on +that side of the sky and flew on with his face towards the sun. He +had come dripping wet from some pool in the valleys, and as he flew +the edges and lining of his wings, his thighs, and his breast were +so caught by the bright sunbeams that he appeared as if formed of +burnished silver. Up in the zenith where he was seemed a free and +happy place, away from all contact with the earthly ball to which she +was pinioned; and she wished that she could arise uncrushed from its +surface and fly as he flew then. + +But, being a mother, it was inevitable that she should soon cease to +ruminate upon her own condition. Had the track of her next thought +been marked by a streak in the air, like the path of a meteor, +it would have shown a direction contrary to the heron's, and have +descended to the eastward upon the roof of Clym's house. + + + + +VII + +The Tragic Meeting of Two Old Friends + + +He in the meantime had aroused himself from sleep, sat up, and looked +around. Eustacia was sitting in a chair hard by him, and though she +held a book in her hand she had not looked into it for some time. + +"Well, indeed!" said Clym, brushing his eyes with his hands. "How +soundly I have slept! I have had such a tremendous dream, too: one I +shall never forget." + +"I thought you had been dreaming," said she. + +"Yes. It was about my mother. I dreamt that I took you to her house +to make up differences, and when we got there we couldn't get in, +though she kept on crying to us for help. However, dreams are dreams. +What o'clock is it, Eustacia?" + +"Half-past two." + +"So late, is it? I didn't mean to stay so long. By the time I have +had something to eat it will be after three." + +"Ann is not come back from the village, and I thought I would let you +sleep on till she returned." + +Clym went to the window and looked out. Presently he said, musingly, +"Week after week passes, and yet mother does not come. I thought I +should have heard something from her long before this." + +Misgiving, regret, fear, resolution, ran their swift course of +expression in Eustacia's dark eyes. She was face to face with a +monstrous difficulty, and she resolved to get free of it by +postponement. + +"I must certainly go to Blooms-End soon," he continued, "and I think +I had better go alone." He picked up his leggings and gloves, threw +them down again, and added, "As dinner will be so late today I will +not go back to the heath, but work in the garden till the evening, and +then, when it will be cooler, I will walk to Blooms-End. I am quite +sure that if I make a little advance mother will be willing to forget +all. It will be rather late before I can get home, as I shall not be +able to do the distance either way in less than an hour and a half. +But you will not mind for one evening, dear? What are you thinking of +to make you look so abstracted?" + +"I cannot tell you," she said heavily. "I wish we didn't live here, +Clym. The world seems all wrong in this place." + +"Well--if we make it so. I wonder if Thomasin has been to Blooms-End +lately. I hope so. But probably not, as she is, I believe, expecting +to be confined in a month or so. I wish I had thought of that before. +Poor mother must indeed be very lonely." + +"I don't like you going tonight." + +"Why not tonight?" + +"Something may be said which will terribly injure me." + +"My mother is not vindictive," said Clym, his colour faintly rising. + +"But I wish you would not go," Eustacia repeated in a low tone. "If +you agree not to go tonight I promise to go by myself to her house +tomorrow, and make it up with her, and wait till you fetch me." + +"Why do you want to do that at this particular time, when at every +previous time that I have proposed it you have refused?" + +"I cannot explain further than that I should like to see her alone +before you go," she answered, with an impatient move of her head, and +looking at him with an anxiety more frequently seen upon those of a +sanguine temperament than upon such as herself. + +"Well, it is very odd that just when I had decided to go myself you +should want to do what I proposed long ago. If I wait for you to go +tomorrow another day will be lost; and I know I shall be unable to +rest another night without having been. I want to get this settled, +and will. You must visit her afterwards: it will be all the same." + +"I could even go with you now?" + +"You could scarcely walk there and back without a longer rest than I +shall take. No, not tonight, Eustacia." + +"Let it be as you say, then," she replied in the quiet way of one who, +though willing to ward off evil consequences by a mild effort, would +let events fall out as they might sooner than wrestle hard to direct +them. + +Clym then went into the garden; and a thoughtful languor stole over +Eustacia for the remainder of the afternoon, which her husband +attributed to the heat of the weather. + +In the evening he set out on the journey. Although the heat of summer +was yet intense the days had considerably shortened, and before he had +advanced a mile on his way all the heath purples, browns, and greens +had merged in a uniform dress without airiness or graduation, and +broken only by touches of white where the little heaps of clean quartz +sand showed the entrance to a rabbit-burrow, or where the white flints +of a footpath lay like a thread over the slopes. In almost every +one of the isolated and stunted thorns which grew here and there a +night-hawk revealed his presence by whirring like the clack of a mill +as long as he could hold his breath, then stopping, flapping his +wings, wheeling round the bush, alighting, and after a silent interval +of listening beginning to whirr again. At each brushing of Clym's +feet white miller-moths flew into the air just high enough to catch +upon their dusty wings the mellowed light from the west, which now +shone across the depressions and levels of the ground without falling +thereon to light them up. + +Yeobright walked on amid this quiet scene with a hope that all would +soon be well. Three miles on he came to a spot where a soft perfume +was wafted across his path, and he stood still for a moment to +inhale the familiar scent. It was the place at which, four hours +earlier, his mother had sat down exhausted on the knoll covered with +shepherd's-thyme. While he stood a sound between a breathing and a +moan suddenly reached his ears. + +He looked to where the sound came from; but nothing appeared there +save the verge of the hillock stretching against the sky in an +unbroken line. He moved a few steps in that direction, and now he +perceived a recumbent figure almost close at his feet. + +Among the different possibilities as to the person's individuality +there did not for a moment occur to Yeobright that it might be one of +his own family. Sometimes furze-cutters had been known to sleep out of +doors at these times, to save a long journey homeward and back again; +but Clym remembered the moan and looked closer, and saw that the form +was feminine; and a distress came over him like cold air from a cave. +But he was not absolutely certain that the woman was his mother till +he stooped and beheld her face, pallid, and with closed eyes. + +His breath went, as it were, out of his body and the cry of anguish +which would have escaped him died upon his lips. During the momentary +interval that elapsed before he became conscious that something must +be done all sense of time and place left him, and it seemed as if +he and his mother were as when he was a child with her many years +ago on this heath at hours similar to the present. Then he awoke to +activity; and bending yet lower he found that she still breathed, and +that her breath though feeble was regular, except when disturbed by an +occasional gasp. + +"O, what is it! Mother, are you very ill--you are not dying?" he +cried, pressing his lips to her face. "I am your Clym. How did you +come here? What does it all mean?" + +At that moment the chasm in their lives which his love for Eustacia +had caused was not remembered by Yeobright, and to him the present +joined continuously with that friendly past that had been their +experience before the division. + +She moved her lips, appeared to know him, but could not speak; and +then Clym strove to consider how best to move her, as it would be +necessary to get her away from the spot before the dews were intense. +He was able-bodied, and his mother was thin. He clasped his arms +round her, lifted her a little, and said, "Does that hurt you?" + +She shook her head, and he lifted her up; then, at a slow pace, went +onward with his load. The air was now completely cool; but whenever +he passed over a sandy patch of ground uncarpeted with vegetation +there was reflected from its surface into his face the heat which it +had imbibed during the day. At the beginning of his undertaking he +had thought but little of the distance which yet would have to be +traversed before Blooms-End could be reached; but though he had slept +that afternoon he soon began to feel the weight of his burden. Thus +he proceeded, like Aeneas with his father; the bats circling round his +head, nightjars flapping their wings within a yard of his face, and +not a human being within call. + +While he was yet nearly a mile from the house his mother exhibited +signs of restlessness under the constraint of being borne along, as +if his arms were irksome to her. He lowered her upon his knees and +looked around. The point they had now reached, though far from any +road, was not more than a mile from the Blooms-End cottages occupied +by Fairway, Sam, Humphrey, and the Cantles. Moreover, fifty yards off +stood a hut, built of clods and covered with thin turves, but now +entirely disused. The simple outline of the lonely shed was visible, +and thither he determined to direct his steps. As soon as he arrived +he laid her down carefully by the entrance, and then ran and cut with +his pocketknife an armful of the dryest fern. Spreading this within +the shed, which was entirely open on one side, he placed his mother +thereon; then he ran with all his might towards the dwelling of +Fairway. + +Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed, disturbed only by the broken +breathing of the sufferer, when moving figures began to animate the +line between heath and sky. In a few moments Clym arrived with +Fairway, Humphrey, and Susan Nunsuch; Olly Dowden, who had chanced +to be at Fairway's, Christian and Grandfer Cantle following +helter-skelter behind. They had brought a lantern and matches, water, +a pillow, and a few other articles which had occurred to their minds +in the hurry of the moment. Sam had been despatched back again for +brandy, and a boy brought Fairway's pony, upon which he rode off to +the nearest medical man, with directions to call at Wildeve's on his +way, and inform Thomasin that her aunt was unwell. + +Sam and the brandy soon arrived, and it was administered by the light +of the lantern; after which she became sufficiently conscious to +signify by signs that something was wrong with her foot. Olly Dowden +at length understood her meaning, and examined the foot indicated. It +was swollen and red. Even as they watched the red began to assume a +more livid colour, in the midst of which appeared a scarlet speck, +smaller than a pea, and it was found to consist of a drop of blood, +which rose above the smooth flesh of her ankle in a hemisphere. + +"I know what it is," cried Sam. "She has been stung by an adder!" + +"Yes," said Clym instantly. "I remember when I was a child seeing +just such a bite. O, my poor mother!" + +"It was my father who was bit," said Sam. "And there's only one way +to cure it. You must rub the place with the fat of other adders, and +the only way to get that is by frying them. That's what they did for +him." + +"'Tis an old remedy," said Clym distrustfully, "and I have doubts +about it. But we can do nothing else till the doctor comes." + +"'Tis a sure cure," said Olly Dowden, with emphasis. "I've used it +when I used to go out nursing." + +"Then we must pray for daylight, to catch them," said Clym gloomily. + +"I will see what I can do," said Sam. + +He took a green hazel which he had used as a walking-stick, split it +at the end, inserted a small pebble, and with the lantern in his hand +went out into the heath. Clym had by this time lit a small fire, and +despatched Susan Nunsuch for a frying-pan. Before she had returned +Sam came in with three adders, one briskly coiling and uncoiling in +the cleft of the stick, and the other two hanging dead across it. + +"I have only been able to get one alive and fresh as he ought to be," +said Sam. "These limp ones are two I killed today at work; but as +they don't die till the sun goes down they can't be very stale meat." + +The live adder regarded the assembled group with a sinister look in +its small black eye, and the beautiful brown and jet pattern on its +back seemed to intensify with indignation. Mrs. Yeobright saw the +creature, and the creature saw her: she quivered throughout, and +averted her eyes. + +"Look at that," murmured Christian Cantle. "Neighbours, how do we +know but that something of the old serpent in God's garden, that gied +the apple to the young woman with no clothes, lives on in adders and +snakes still? Look at his eye--for all the world like a villainous +sort of black currant. 'Tis to be hoped he can't ill-wish us! There's +folks in heath who've been overlooked already. I will never kill +another adder as long as I live." + +"Well, 'tis right to be afeard of things, if folks can't help it," +said Grandfer Cantle. "'Twould have saved me many a brave danger in +my time." + +"I fancy I heard something outside the shed," said Christian. "I wish +troubles would come in the daytime, for then a man could show his +courage, and hardly beg for mercy of the most broomstick old woman he +should see, if he was a brave man, and able to run out of her sight!" + +"Even such an ignorant fellow as I should know better than do that," +said Sam. + +"Well, there's calamities where we least expect it, whether or no. +Neighbours, if Mrs. Yeobright were to die, d'ye think we should be +took up and tried for the manslaughter of a woman?" + +"No, they couldn't bring it in as that," said Sam, "unless they could +prove we had been poachers at some time of our lives. But she'll +fetch round." + +"Now, if I had been stung by ten adders I should hardly have lost a +day's work for't," said Grandfer Cantle. "Such is my spirit when I +am on my mettle. But perhaps 'tis natural in a man trained for war. +Yes, I've gone through a good deal; but nothing ever came amiss to me +after I joined the Locals in four." He shook his head and smiled at a +mental picture of himself in uniform. "I was always first in the most +galliantest scrapes in my younger days!" + +"I suppose that was because they always used to put the biggest fool +afore," said Fairway from the fire, beside which he knelt, blowing it +with his breath. + +"D'ye think so, Timothy?" said Grandfer Cantle, coming forward to +Fairway's side with sudden depression in his face. "Then a man may +feel for years that he is good solid company, and be wrong about +himself after all?" + +"Never mind that question, Grandfer. Stir your stumps and get some +more sticks. 'Tis very nonsense of an old man to prattle so when life +and death's in mangling." + +"Yes, yes," said Grandfer Cantle, with melancholy conviction. "Well, +this is a bad night altogether for them that have done well in their +time; and if I were ever such a dab at the hautboy or tenor-viol, I +shouldn't have the heart to play tunes upon 'em now." + +Susan now arrived with the frying-pan, when the live adder was killed +and the heads of the three taken off. The remainders, being cut into +lengths and split open, were tossed into the pan, which began hissing +and crackling over the fire. Soon a rill of clear oil trickled from +the carcases, whereupon Clym dipped the corner of his handkerchief +into the liquid and anointed the wound. + + + + +VIII + +Eustacia Hears of Good Fortune, and Beholds Evil + + +In the meantime Eustacia, left alone in her cottage at Alderworth, +had become considerably depressed by the posture of affairs. The +consequences which might result from Clym's discovery that his mother +had been turned from his door that day were likely to be disagreeable, +and this was a quality in events which she hated as much as the +dreadful. + +To be left to pass the evening by herself was irksome to her at any +time, and this evening it was more irksome than usual by reason of the +excitements of the past hours. The two visits had stirred her into +restlessness. She was not wrought to any great pitch of uneasiness +by the probability of appearing in an ill light in the discussion +between Clym and his mother, but she was wrought to vexation; and her +slumbering activities were quickened to the extent of wishing that she +had opened the door. She had certainly believed that Clym was awake, +and the excuse would be an honest one as far as it went; but nothing +could save her from censure in refusing to answer at the first knock. +Yet, instead of blaming herself for the issue she laid the fault upon +the shoulders of some indistinct, colossal Prince of the World, who +had framed her situation and ruled her lot. + +At this time of the year it was pleasanter to walk by night than by +day, and when Clym had been absent about an hour she suddenly resolved +to go out in the direction of Blooms-End, on the chance of meeting +him on his return. When she reached the garden gate she heard wheels +approaching, and looking round beheld her grandfather coming up in his +car. + +"I can't stay a minute, thank ye," he answered to her greeting. "I +am driving to East Egdon; but I came round here just to tell you the +news. Perhaps you have heard--about Mr. Wildeve's fortune?" + +"No," said Eustacia blankly. + +"Well, he has come into a fortune of eleven thousand pounds--uncle +died in Canada, just after hearing that all his family, whom he was +sending home, had gone to the bottom in the _Cassiopeia_; so Wildeve +has come into everything, without in the least expecting it." + +Eustacia stood motionless awhile. "How long has he known of this?" +she asked. + +"Well, it was known to him this morning early, for I knew it at ten +o'clock, when Charley came back. Now, he is what I call a lucky man. +What a fool you were, Eustacia!" + +"In what way?" she said, lifting her eyes in apparent calmness. + +"Why, in not sticking to him when you had him." + +"Had him, indeed!" + +"I did not know there had ever been anything between you till lately; +and, faith, I should have been hot and strong against it if I had +known; but since it seems that there was some sniffing between ye, why +the deuce didn't you stick to him?" + +Eustacia made no reply, but she looked as if she could say as much +upon that subject as he if she chose. + +"And how is your poor purblind husband?" continued the old man. "Not +a bad fellow either, as far as he goes." + +"He is quite well." + +"It is a good thing for his cousin what-d'ye-call-her? By George, you +ought to have been in that galley, my girl! Now I must drive on. Do +you want any assistance? What's mine is yours, you know." + +"Thank you, grandfather, we are not in want at present," she said +coldly. "Clym cuts furze, but he does it mostly as a useful pastime, +because he can do nothing else." + +"He is paid for his pastime, isn't he? Three shillings a hundred, I +heard." + +"Clym has money," she said, colouring, "but he likes to earn a +little." + +"Very well; good night." And the captain drove on. + +When her grandfather was gone Eustacia went on her way mechanically; +but her thoughts were no longer concerning her mother-in-law and Clym. +Wildeve, notwithstanding his complaints against his fate, had been +seized upon by destiny and placed in the sunshine once more. Eleven +thousand pounds! From every Egdon point of view he was a rich man. In +Eustacia's eyes, too, it was an ample sum--one sufficient to supply +those wants of hers which had been stigmatized by Clym in his more +austere moods as vain and luxurious. Though she was no lover of +money she loved what money could bring; and the new accessories she +imagined around him clothed Wildeve with a great deal of interest. She +recollected now how quietly well-dressed he had been that morning: he +had probably put on his newest suit, regardless of damage by briars +and thorns. And then she thought of his manner towards herself. + +"O I see it, I see it," she said. "How much he wishes he had me now, +that he might give me all I desire!" + +In recalling the details of his glances and words--at the time +scarcely regarded--it became plain to her how greatly they had been +dictated by his knowledge of this new event. "Had he been a man to +bear a jilt ill-will he would have told me of his good fortune in +crowing tones; instead of doing that he mentioned not a word, in +deference to my misfortunes, and merely implied that he loved me +still, as one superior to him." + +Wildeve's silence that day on what had happened to him was just the +kind of behaviour calculated to make an impression on such a woman. +Those delicate touches of good taste were, in fact, one of the strong +points in his demeanour towards the other sex. The peculiarity of +Wildeve was that, while at one time passionate, upbraiding, and +resentful towards a woman, at another he would treat her with +such unparalleled grace as to make previous neglect appear as +no discourtesy, injury as no insult, interference as a delicate +attention, and the ruin of her honour as excess of chivalry. This +man, whose admiration today Eustacia had disregarded, whose good +wishes she had scarcely taken the trouble to accept, whom she had +shown out of the house by the back door, was the possessor of eleven +thousand pounds--a man of fair professional education, and one who +had served his articles with a civil engineer. + +So intent was Eustacia upon Wildeve's fortunes that she forgot how +much closer to her own course were those of Clym; and instead of +walking on to meet him at once she sat down upon a stone. She was +disturbed in her reverie by a voice behind, and turning her head +beheld the old lover and fortunate inheritor of wealth immediately +beside her. + +She remained sitting, though the fluctuation in her look might have +told any man who knew her so well as Wildeve that she was thinking of +him. + +"How did you come here?" she said in her clear low tone. "I thought +you were at home." + +"I went on to the village after leaving your garden; and now I have +come back again: that's all. Which way are you walking, may I ask?" + +She waved her hand in the direction of Blooms-End. "I am going to meet +my husband. I think I may possibly have got into trouble whilst you +were with me today." + +"How could that be?" + +"By not letting in Mrs. Yeobright." + +"I hope that visit of mine did you no harm." + +"None. It was not your fault," she said quietly. + +By this time she had risen; and they involuntarily sauntered on +together, without speaking, for two or three minutes; when Eustacia +broke silence by saying, "I assume I must congratulate you." + +"On what? O yes; on my eleven thousand pounds, you mean. Well, since +I didn't get something else, I must be content with getting that." + +"You seem very indifferent about it. Why didn't you tell me today +when you came?" she said in the tone of a neglected person. "I heard +of it quite by accident." + +"I did mean to tell you," said Wildeve. "But I--well, I will speak +frankly--I did not like to mention it when I saw, Eustacia, that your +star was not high. The sight of a man lying wearied out with hard +work, as your husband lay, made me feel that to brag of my own fortune +to you would be greatly out of place. Yet, as you stood there beside +him, I could not help feeling too that in many respects he was a +richer man than I." + +At this Eustacia said, with slumbering mischievousness, "What, would +you exchange with him--your fortune for me?" + +"I certainly would," said Wildeve. + +"As we are imagining what is impossible and absurd, suppose we change +the subject?" + +"Very well; and I will tell you of my plans for the future, if you +care to hear them. I shall permanently invest nine thousand pounds, +keep one thousand as ready money, and with the remaining thousand +travel for a year or so." + +"Travel? What a bright idea! Where will you go to?" + +"From here to Paris, where I shall pass the winter and spring. Then +I shall go to Italy, Greece, Egypt, and Palestine, before the hot +weather comes on. In the summer I shall go to America; and then, by a +plan not yet settled, I shall go to Australia and round to India. By +that time I shall have begun to have had enough of it. Then I shall +probably come back to Paris again, and there I shall stay as long as +I can afford to." + +"Back to Paris again," she murmured in a voice that was nearly a sigh. +She had never once told Wildeve of the Parisian desires which Clym's +description had sown in her; yet here was he involuntarily in a +position to gratify them. "You think a good deal of Paris?" she +added. + +"Yes. In my opinion it is the central beauty-spot of the world." + +"And in mine! And Thomasin will go with you?" + +"Yes, if she cares to. She may prefer to stay at home." + +"So you will be going about, and I shall be staying here!" + +"I suppose you will. But we know whose fault that is." + +"I am not blaming you," she said quickly. + +"Oh, I thought you were. If ever you SHOULD be inclined to blame me, +think of a certain evening by Rainbarrow, when you promised to meet +me and did not. You sent me a letter; and my heart ached to read that +as I hope yours never will. That was one point of divergence. I then +did something in haste... But she is a good woman, and I will say no +more." + +"I know that the blame was on my side that time," said Eustacia. "But +it had not always been so. However, it is my misfortune to be too +sudden in feeling. O, Damon, don't reproach me any more--I can't bear +that." + +They went on silently for a distance of two or three miles, when +Eustacia said suddenly, "Haven't you come out of your way, Mr. +Wildeve?" + +"My way is anywhere tonight. I will go with you as far as the hill +on which we can see Blooms-End, as it is getting late for you to be +alone." + +"Don't trouble. I am not obliged to be out at all. I think I would +rather you did not accompany me further. This sort of thing would +have an odd look if known." + +"Very well, I will leave you." He took her hand unexpectedly, and +kissed it--for the first time since her marriage. "What light is that +on the hill?" he added, as it were to hide the caress. + +She looked, and saw a flickering firelight proceeding from the open +side of a hovel a little way before them. The hovel, which she had +hitherto always found empty, seemed to be inhabited now. + +"Since you have come so far," said Eustacia, "will you see me safely +past that hut? I thought I should have met Clym somewhere about here, +but as he doesn't appear I will hasten on and get to Blooms-End before +he leaves." + +They advanced to the turf-shed, and when they got near it the +firelight and the lantern inside showed distinctly enough the form of +a woman reclining on a bed of fern, a group of heath men and women +standing around her. Eustacia did not recognize Mrs. Yeobright in the +reclining figure, nor Clym as one of the standers-by till she came +close. Then she quickly pressed her hand upon Wildeve's arm and +signified to him to come back from the open side of the shed into the +shadow. + +"It is my husband and his mother," she whispered in an agitated voice. +"What can it mean? Will you step forward and tell me?" + +Wildeve left her side and went to the back wall of the hut. Presently +Eustacia perceived that he was beckoning to her, and she advanced and +joined him. + +"It is a serious case," said Wildeve. + +From their position they could hear what was proceeding inside. + +"I cannot think where she could have been going," said Clym to +some one. "She had evidently walked a long way, but even when she +was able to speak just now she would not tell me where. What do you +really think of her?" + +"There is a great deal to fear," was gravely answered, in a voice +which Eustacia recognized as that of the only surgeon in the district. +"She has suffered somewhat from the bite of the adder; but it is +exhaustion which has overpowered her. My impression is that her walk +must have been exceptionally long." + +"I used to tell her not to overwalk herself this weather," said Clym, +with distress. "Do you think we did well in using the adder's fat?" + +"Well, it is a very ancient remedy--the old remedy of the +viper-catchers, I believe," replied the doctor. "It is mentioned as an +infallible ointment by Hoffman, Mead, and I think the Abbe Fontana. +Undoubtedly it was as good a thing as you could do; though I question +if some other oils would not have been equally efficacious." + +"Come here, come here!" was then rapidly said in anxious female tones; +and Clym and the doctor could be heard rushing forward from the back +part of the shed to where Mrs. Yeobright lay. + +"Oh, what is it?" whispered Eustacia. + +"'Twas Thomasin who spoke," said Wildeve. "Then they have fetched +her. I wonder if I had better go in--yet it might do harm." + +For a long time there was utter silence among the group within; and it +was broken at last by Clym saying, in an agonized voice, "O Doctor, +what does it mean?" + +The doctor did not reply at once; ultimately he said, "She is sinking +fast. Her heart was previously affected, and physical exhaustion has +dealt the finishing blow." + +Then there was a weeping of women, then waiting, then hushed +exclamations, then a strange gasping sound, then a painful stillness. + +"It is all over," said the doctor. + +Further back in the hut the cotters whispered, "Mrs. Yeobright is +dead." + +Almost at the same moment the two watchers observed the form of a +small old-fashioned child entering at the open side of the shed. +Susan Nunsuch, whose boy it was, went forward to the opening and +silently beckoned to him to go back. + +"I've got something to tell 'ee, mother," he cried in a shrill tone. +"That woman asleep there walked along with me today; and she said I +was to say that I had seed her, and she was a broken-hearted woman and +cast off by her son, and then I came on home." + +A confused sob as from a man was heard within, upon which Eustacia +gasped faintly, "That's Clym--I must go to him--yet dare I do it? +No: come away!" + +When they had withdrawn from the neighbourhood of the shed she said +huskily, "I am to blame for this. There is evil in store for me." + +"Was she not admitted to your house after all?" Wildeve inquired. + +"No; and that's where it all lies! Oh, what shall I do! I shall not +intrude upon them: I shall go straight home. Damon, good-bye! I +cannot speak to you any more now." + +They parted company; and when Eustacia had reached the next hill she +looked back. A melancholy procession was wending its way by the light +of the lantern from the hut towards Blooms-End. Wildeve was nowhere to +be seen. + + + + +BOOK FIFTH +THE DISCOVERY + + +I + +"Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery" + + +One evening, about three weeks after the funeral of Mrs. Yeobright, +when the silver face of the moon sent a bundle of beams directly upon +the floor of Clym's house at Alderworth, a woman came forth from +within. She reclined over the garden gate as if to refresh herself +awhile. The pale lunar touches which make beauties of hags lent +divinity to this face, already beautiful. + +She had not long been there when a man came up the road and with some +hesitation said to her, "How is he tonight, ma'am, if you please?" + +"He is better, though still very unwell, Humphrey," replied Eustacia. + +"Is he light-headed, ma'am?" + +"No. He is quite sensible now." + +"Do he rave about his mother just the same, poor fellow?" continued +Humphrey. + +"Just as much, though not quite so wildly," she said in a low voice. + +"It was very unfortunate, ma'am, that the boy Johnny should ever ha' +told him his mother's dying words, about her being broken-hearted and +cast off by her son. 'Twas enough to upset any man alive." + +Eustacia made no reply beyond that of a slight catch in her breath, as +of one who fain would speak but could not; and Humphrey, declining her +invitation to come in, went away. + +Eustacia turned, entered the house, and ascended to the front bedroom, +where a shaded light was burning. In the bed lay Clym, pale, haggard, +wide awake, tossing to one side and to the other, his eyes lit by +a hot light, as if the fire in their pupils were burning up their +substance. + +"Is it you, Eustacia?" he said as she sat down. + +"Yes, Clym. I have been down to the gate. The moon is shining +beautifully, and there is not a leaf stirring." + +"Shining, is it? What's the moon to a man like me? Let it shine--let +anything be, so that I never see another day!... Eustacia, I don't +know where to look: my thoughts go through me like swords. O, if +any man wants to make himself immortal by painting a picture of +wretchedness, let him come here!" + +"Why do you say so?" + +"I cannot help feeling that I did my best to kill her." + +"No, Clym." + +"Yes, it was so; it is useless to excuse me! My conduct to her was +too hideous--I made no advances; and she could not bring herself to +forgive me. Now she is dead! If I had only shown myself willing to +make it up with her sooner, and we had been friends, and then she +had died, it wouldn't be so hard to bear. But I never went near her +house, so she never came near mine, and didn't know how welcome she +would have been--that's what troubles me. She did not know I was +going to her house that very night, for she was too insensible to +understand me. If she had only come to see me! I longed that she +would. But it was not to be." + +There escaped from Eustacia one of those shivering sighs which used +to shake her like a pestilent blast. She had not yet told. + +But Yeobright was too deeply absorbed in the ramblings incidental to +his remorseful state to notice her. During his illness he had been +continually talking thus. Despair had been added to his original +grief by the unfortunate disclosure of the boy who had received the +last words of Mrs. Yeobright--words too bitterly uttered in an hour of +misapprehension. Then his distress had overwhelmed him, and he longed +for death as a field labourer longs for the shade. It was the pitiful +sight of a man standing in the very focus of sorrow. He continually +bewailed his tardy journey to his mother's house, because it was an +error which could never be rectified, and insisted that he must have +been horribly perverted by some fiend not to have thought before that +it was his duty to go to her, since she did not come to him. He would +ask Eustacia to agree with him in his self-condemnation; and when she, +seared inwardly by a secret she dared not tell, declared that she +could not give an opinion, he would say, "That's because you didn't +know my mother's nature. She was always ready to forgive if asked to +do so; but I seemed to her to be as an obstinate child, and that made +her unyielding. Yet not unyielding: she was proud and reserved, no +more... Yes, I can understand why she held out against me so long. +She was waiting for me. I dare say she said a hundred times in her +sorrow, 'What a return he makes for all the sacrifices I have made +for him!' I never went to her! When I set out to visit her it was too +late. To think of that is nearly intolerable!" + +Sometimes his condition had been one of utter remorse, unsoftened by +a single tear of pure sorrow: and then he writhed as he lay, fevered +far more by thought than by physical ills. "If I could only get one +assurance that she did not die in a belief that I was resentful," he +said one day when in this mood, "it would be better to think of than +a hope of heaven. But that I cannot do." + +"You give yourself up too much to this wearying despair," said +Eustacia. "Other men's mothers have died." + +"That doesn't make the loss of mine less. Yet it is less the loss +than the circumstances of the loss. I sinned against her, and on that +account there is no light for me." + +"She sinned against you, I think." + +"No, she did not. I committed the guilt; and may the whole burden be +upon my head!" + +"I think you might consider twice before you say that," Eustacia +replied. "Single men have, no doubt, a right to curse themselves as +much as they please; but men with wives involve two in the doom they +pray down." + +"I am in too sorry a state to understand what you are refining on," +said the wretched man. "Day and night shout at me, 'You have helped +to kill her.' But in loathing myself I may, I own, be unjust to you, +my poor wife. Forgive me for it, Eustacia, for I scarcely know what +I do." + +Eustacia was always anxious to avoid the sight of her husband in such +a state as this, which had become as dreadful to her as the trial +scene was to Judas Iscariot. It brought before her eyes the spectre +of a worn-out woman knocking at a door which she would not open; and +she shrank from contemplating it. Yet it was better for Yeobright +himself when he spoke openly of his sharp regret, for in silence he +endured infinitely more, and would sometimes remain so long in a +tense, brooding mood, consuming himself by the gnawing of his thought, +that it was imperatively necessary to make him talk aloud, that his +grief might in some degree expend itself in the effort. + +Eustacia had not been long indoors after her look at the moonlight +when a soft footstep came up to the house, and Thomasin was announced +by the woman downstairs. + +"Ah, Thomasin! Thank you for coming tonight," said Clym when she +entered the room. "Here am I, you see. Such a wretched spectacle am +I, that I shrink from being seen by a single friend, and almost from +you." + +"You must not shrink from me, dear Clym," said Thomasin earnestly, in +that sweet voice of hers which came to a sufferer like fresh air into +a Black Hole. "Nothing in you can ever shock me or drive me away. I +have been here before, but you don't remember it." + +"Yes, I do; I am not delirious, Thomasin, nor have I been so at all. +Don't you believe that if they say so. I am only in great misery at +what I have done: and that, with the weakness, makes me seem mad. But +it has not upset my reason. Do you think I should remember all about +my mother's death if I were out of my mind? No such good luck. Two +months and a half, Thomasin, the last of her life, did my poor mother +live alone, distracted and mourning because of me; yet she was +unvisited by me, though I was living only six miles off. Two months +and a half--seventy-five days did the sun rise and set upon her in +that deserted state which a dog didn't deserve! Poor people who had +nothing in common with her would have cared for her, and visited her +had they known her sickness and loneliness; but I, who should have +been all to her, stayed away like a cur. If there is any justice in +God let Him kill me now. He has nearly blinded me, but that is not +enough. If He would only strike me with more pain I would believe in +Him for ever!" + +"Hush, hush! O, pray, Clym, don't, don't say it!" implored Thomasin, +affrighted into sobs and tears; while Eustacia, at the other side of +the room, though her pale face remained calm, writhed in her chair. +Clym went on without heeding his cousin. + +"But I am not worth receiving further proof even of Heaven's +reprobation. Do you think, Thomasin, that she knew me--that she did +not die in that horrid mistaken notion about my not forgiving her, +which I can't tell you how she acquired? If you could only assure me +of that! Do you think so, Eustacia? Do speak to me." + +"I think I can assure you that she knew better at last," said +Thomasin. The pallid Eustacia said nothing. + +"Why didn't she come to my house? I would have taken her in and +showed her how I loved her in spite of all. But she never came; and I +didn't go to her, and she died on the heath like an animal kicked out, +nobody to help her till it was too late. If you could have seen her, +Thomasin, as I saw her--a poor dying woman, lying in the dark upon the +bare ground, moaning, nobody near, believing she was utterly deserted +by all the world, it would have moved you to anguish, it would have +moved a brute. And this poor woman my mother! No wonder she said to +the child, 'You have seen a broken-hearted woman.' What a state she +must have been brought to, to say that! and who can have done it but +I? It is too dreadful to think of, and I wish I could be punished +more heavily than I am. How long was I what they called out of my +senses?" + +"A week, I think." + +"And then I became calm." + +"Yes, for four days." + +"And now I have left off being calm." + +"But try to be quiet: please do, and you will soon be strong. If you +could remove that impression from your mind--" + +"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "But I don't want to get strong. +What's the use of my getting well? It would be better for me if I +die, and it would certainly be better for Eustacia. Is Eustacia +there?" + +"Yes." + +"It would be better for you, Eustacia, if I were to die?" + +"Don't press such a question, dear Clym." + +"Well, it really is but a shadowy supposition; for unfortunately I am +going to live. I feel myself getting better. Thomasin, how long are +you going to stay at the inn, now that all this money has come to your +husband?" + +"Another month or two, probably; until my illness is over. We cannot +get off till then. I think it will be a month or more." + +"Yes, yes. Of course. Ah, Cousin Tamsie, you will get over your +trouble--one little month will take you through it, and bring +something to console you; but I shall never get over mine, and no +consolation will come!" + +"Clym, you are unjust to yourself. Depend upon it, aunt thought +kindly of you. I know that, if she had lived, you would have been +reconciled with her." + +"But she didn't come to see me, though I asked her, before I married, +if she would come. Had she come, or had I gone there, she would never +have died saying, 'I am a broken-hearted woman, cast off by my son.' +My door has always been open to her--a welcome here has always awaited +her. But that she never came to see." + +"You had better not talk any more now, Clym," said Eustacia faintly +from the other part of the room, for the scene was growing intolerable +to her. + +"Let me talk to you instead for the little time I shall be here," +Thomasin said soothingly. "Consider what a one-sided way you have of +looking at the matter, Clym. When she said that to the little boy you +had not found her and taken her into your arms; and it might have been +uttered in a moment of bitterness. It was rather like aunt to say +things in haste. She sometimes used to speak so to me. Though she did +not come I am convinced that she thought of coming to see you. Do +you suppose a man's mother could live two or three months without +one forgiving thought? She forgave me; and why should she not have +forgiven you?" + +"You laboured to win her round; I did nothing. I, who was going to +teach people the higher secrets of happiness, did not know how to keep +out of that gross misery which the most untaught are wise enough to +avoid." + +"How did you get here tonight, Thomasin?" said Eustacia. + +"Damon set me down at the end of the lane. He has driven into East +Egdon on business, and he will come and pick me up by-and-by." + +Accordingly they soon after heard the noise of wheels. Wildeve had +come, and was waiting outside with his horse and gig. + +"Send out and tell him I will be down in two minutes," said Thomasin. + +"I will run down myself," said Eustacia. + +She went down. Wildeve had alighted, and was standing before the +horse's head when Eustacia opened the door. He did not turn for a +moment, thinking the comer Thomasin. Then he looked, started ever +so little, and said one word: "Well?" + +"I have not yet told him," she replied in a whisper. + +"Then don't do so till he is well--it will be fatal. You are ill +yourself." + +"I am wretched... O Damon," she said, bursting into tears, "I--I can't +tell you how unhappy I am! I can hardly bear this. I can tell nobody +of my trouble--nobody knows of it but you." + +"Poor girl!" said Wildeve, visibly affected at her distress, and at +last led on so far as to take her hand. "It is hard, when you have +done nothing to deserve it, that you should have got involved in such +a web as this. You were not made for these sad scenes. I am to blame +most. If I could only have saved you from it all!" + +"But, Damon, please pray tell me what I must do? To sit by him hour +after hour, and hear him reproach himself as being the cause of her +death, and to know that I am the sinner, if any human being is at all, +drives me into cold despair. I don't know what to do. Should I tell +him or should I not tell him? I always am asking myself that. O, I +want to tell him; and yet I am afraid. If he find it out he must +surely kill me, for nothing else will be in proportion to his feelings +now. 'Beware the fury of a patient man' sounds day by day in my ears +as I watch him." + +"Well, wait till he is better, and trust to chance. And when you +tell, you must only tell part--for his own sake." + +"Which part should I keep back?" + +Wildeve paused. "That I was in the house at the time," he said in a +low tone. + +"Yes; it must be concealed, seeing what has been whispered. How much +easier are hasty actions than speeches that will excuse them!" + +"If he were only to die--" Wildeve murmured. + +"Do not think of it! I would not buy hope of immunity by so cowardly a +desire even if I hated him. Now I am going up to him again. Thomasin +bade me tell you she would be down in a few minutes. Good-bye." + +She returned, and Thomasin soon appeared. When she was seated in the +gig with her husband, and the horse was turning to go off, Wildeve +lifted his eyes to the bedroom windows. Looking from one of them he +could discern a pale, tragic face watching him drive away. It was +Eustacia's. + + + + +II + +A Lurid Light Breaks In upon a Darkened Understanding + + +Clym's grief became mitigated by wearing itself out. His strength +returned, and a month after the visit of Thomasin he might have been +seen walking about the garden. Endurance and despair, equanimity and +gloom, the tints of health and the pallor of death, mingled weirdly +in his face. He was now unnaturally silent upon all of the past that +related to his mother; and though Eustacia knew that he was thinking +of it none the less, she was only too glad to escape the topic ever to +bring it up anew. When his mind had been weaker his heart had led him +to speak out; but reason having now somewhat recovered itself he sank +into taciturnity. + +One evening when he was thus standing in the garden, abstractedly +spudding up a weed with his stick, a bony figure turned the corner of +the house and came up to him. + +"Christian, isn't it?" said Clym. "I am glad you have found me out. +I shall soon want you to go to Blooms-End and assist me in putting +the house in order. I suppose it is all locked up as I left it?" + +"Yes, Mister Clym." + +"Have you dug up the potatoes and other roots?" + +"Yes, without a drop o' rain, thank God. But I was coming to tell 'ee +of something else which is quite different from what we have lately +had in the family. I am sent by the rich gentleman at the Woman, that +we used to call the landlord, to tell 'ee that Mrs. Wildeve is doing +well of a girl, which was born punctually at one o'clock at noon, +or a few minutes more or less; and 'tis said that expecting of this +increase is what have kept 'em there since they came into their +money." + +"And she is getting on well, you say?" + +"Yes, sir. Only Mr. Wildeve is twanky because 'tisn't a boy--that's +what they say in the kitchen, but I was not supposed to notice that." + +"Christian, now listen to me." + +"Yes, sure, Mr. Yeobright." + +"Did you see my mother the day before she died?" + +"No, I did not." + +Yeobright's face expressed disappointment. + +"But I zeed her the morning of the same day she died." + +Clym's look lighted up. "That's nearer still to my meaning," he said. + +"Yes, I know 'twas the same day; for she said, 'I be going to see him, +Christian; so I shall not want any vegetables brought in for dinner.'" + +"See whom?" + +"See you. She was going to your house, you understand." + +Yeobright regarded Christian with intense surprise. "Why did you +never mention this?" he said. "Are you sure it was my house she was +coming to?" + +"O yes. I didn't mention it because I've never zeed you lately. And +as she didn't get there it was all nought, and nothing to tell." + +"And I have been wondering why she should have walked in the heath +on that hot day! Well, did she say what she was coming for? It is a +thing, Christian, I am very anxious to know." + +"Yes, Mister Clym. She didn't say it to me, though I think she did to +one here and there." + +"Do you know one person to whom she spoke of it?" + +"There is one man, please, sir, but I hope you won't mention my name +to him, as I have seen him in strange places, particular in dreams. +One night last summer he glared at me like Famine and Sword, and it +made me feel so low that I didn't comb out my few hairs for two days. +He was standing, as it might be, Mister Yeobright, in the middle of +the path to Mistover, and your mother came up, looking as pale--" + +"Yes, when was that?" + +"Last summer, in my dream." + +"Pooh! Who's the man?" + +"Diggory, the reddleman. He called upon her and sat with her the +evening before she set out to see you. I hadn't gone home from work +when he came up to the gate." + +"I must see Venn--I wish I had known it before," said Clym anxiously. +"I wonder why he has not come to tell me?" + +"He went out of Egdon Heath the next day, so would not be likely to +know you wanted him." + +"Christian," said Clym, "you must go and find Venn. I am otherwise +engaged, or I would go myself. Find him at once, and tell him I want +to speak to him." + +"I am a good hand at hunting up folk by day," said Christian, looking +dubiously round at the declining light; "but as to nighttime, never +is such a bad hand as I, Mister Yeobright." + +"Search the heath when you will, so that you bring him soon. Bring +him tomorrow, if you can." + +Christian then departed. The morrow came, but no Venn. In the +evening Christian arrived, looking very weary. He had been searching +all day, and had heard nothing of the reddleman. + +"Inquire as much as you can tomorrow without neglecting your work," +said Yeobright. "Don't come again till you have found him." + +The next day Yeobright set out for the old house at Blooms-End, which, +with the garden, was now his own. His severe illness had hindered all +preparations for his removal thither; but it had become necessary +that he should go and overlook its contents, as administrator to his +mother's little property; for which purpose he decided to pass the +next night on the premises. + +He journeyed onward, not quickly or decisively, but in the slow walk +of one who has been awakened from a stupefying sleep. It was early +afternoon when he reached the valley. The expression of the place, +the tone of the hour, were precisely those of many such occasions in +days gone by; and these antecedent similarities fostered the illusion +that she, who was there no longer, would come out to welcome him. +The garden gate was locked and the shutters were closed, just as he +himself had left them on the evening after the funeral. He unlocked +the gate, and found that a spider had already constructed a large web, +tying the door to the lintel, on the supposition that it was never +to be opened again. When he had entered the house and flung back +the shutters he set about his task of overhauling the cupboards and +closets, burning papers, and considering how best to arrange the place +for Eustacia's reception, until such time as he might be in a position +to carry out his long-delayed scheme, should that time ever arrive. + +As he surveyed the rooms he felt strongly disinclined for the +alterations which would have to be made in the time-honoured +furnishing of his parents and grandparents, to suit Eustacia's modern +ideas. The gaunt oak-cased clock, with the picture of the Ascension +on the door-panel and the Miraculous Draught of Fishes on the base; +his grandmother's corner cupboard with the glass door, through which +the spotted china was visible; the dumb-waiter; the wooden tea-trays; +the hanging fountain with the brass tap--whither would these venerable +articles have to be banished? + +He noticed that the flowers in the window had died for want of water, +and he placed them out upon the ledge, that they might be taken away. +While thus engaged he heard footsteps on the gravel without, and +somebody knocked at the door. + +Yeobright opened it, and Venn was standing before him. + +"Good morning," said the reddleman. "Is Mrs. Yeobright at home?" + +Yeobright looked upon the ground. "Then you have not seen Christian +or any of the Egdon folks?" he said. + +"No. I have only just returned after a long stay away. I called here +the day before I left." + +"And you have heard nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"My mother is--dead." + +"Dead!" said Venn mechanically. + +"Her home now is where I shouldn't mind having mine." + +Venn regarded him, and then said, "If I didn't see your face I could +never believe your words. Have you been ill?" + +"I had an illness." + +"Well, the change! When I parted from her a month ago everything +seemed to say that she was going to begin a new life." + +"And what seemed came true." + +"You say right, no doubt. Trouble has taught you a deeper vein of +talk than mine. All I meant was regarding her life here. She has +died too soon." + +"Perhaps through my living too long. I have had a bitter experience +on that score this last month, Diggory. But come in; I have been +wanting to see you." + +He conducted the reddleman into the large room where the dancing had +taken place the previous Christmas; and they sat down in the settle +together. "There's the cold fireplace, you see," said Clym. "When +that half-burnt log and those cinders were alight she was alive! +Little has been changed here yet. I can do nothing. My life creeps +like a snail." + +"How came she to die?" said Venn. + +Yeobright gave him some particulars of her illness and death, and +continued: "After this no kind of pain will ever seem more than +an indisposition to me.--I began saying that I wanted to ask you +something, but I stray from subjects like a drunken man. I am anxious +to know what my mother said to you when she last saw you. You talked +with her a long time, I think?" + +"I talked with her more than half an hour." + +"About me?" + +"Yes. And it must have been on account of what we said that she was +on the heath. Without question she was coming to see you." + +"But why should she come to see me if she felt so bitterly against +me? There's the mystery." + +"Yet I know she quite forgave 'ee." + +"But, Diggory--would a woman, who had quite forgiven her son, say, +when she felt herself ill on the way to his house, that she was +broken-hearted because of his ill-usage? Never!" + +"What I know is that she didn't blame you at all. She blamed herself +for what had happened, only herself. I had it from her own lips." + +"You had it from her lips that I had NOT ill-treated her; and at the +same time another had it from her lips that I HAD ill-treated her? +My mother was no impulsive woman who changed her opinion every hour +without reason. How can it be, Venn, that she should have told such +different stories in close succession?" + +"I cannot say. It is certainly odd, when she had forgiven you, and +had forgiven your wife, and was going to see ye on purpose to make +friends." + +"If there was one thing wanting to bewilder me it was this +incomprehensible thing!... Diggory, if we, who remain alive, were only +allowed to hold conversation with the dead--just once, a bare minute, +even through a screen of iron bars, as with persons in prison--what we +might learn! How many who now ride smiling would hide their heads! And +this mystery--I should then be at the bottom of it at once. But the +grave has for ever shut her in; and how shall it be found out now?" + +No reply was returned by his companion, since none could be given; and +when Venn left, a few minutes later, Clym had passed from the dullness +of sorrow to the fluctuation of carking incertitude. + +He continued in the same state all the afternoon. A bed was made up +for him in the same house by a neighbour, that he might not have to +return again the next day; and when he retired to rest in the deserted +place it was only to remain awake hour after hour thinking the same +thoughts. How to discover a solution to this riddle of death seemed a +query of more importance than highest problems of the living. There +was housed in his memory a vivid picture of the face of a little boy +as he entered the hovel where Clym's mother lay. The round eyes, +eager gaze, the piping voice which enunciated the words, had operated +like stilettos on his brain. + +A visit to the boy suggested itself as a means of gleaning new +particulars; though it might be quite unproductive. To probe a +child's mind after the lapse of six weeks, not for facts which the +child had seen and understood, but to get at those which were in +their nature beyond him, did not promise much; yet when every obvious +channel is blocked we grope towards the small and obscure. There was +nothing else left to do; after that he would allow the enigma to drop +into the abyss of undiscoverable things. + +It was about daybreak when he had reached this decision, and he +at once arose. He locked up the house and went out into the green +patch which merged in heather further on. In front of the white +garden-palings the path branched into three like a broad-arrow. The +road to the right led to the Quiet Woman and its neighbourhood; the +middle track led to Mistover Knap; the left-hand track led over +the hill to another part of Mistover, where the child lived. On +inclining into the latter path Yeobright felt a creeping chilliness, +familiar enough to most people, and probably caused by the unsunned +morning air. In after days he thought of it as a thing of singular +significance. + +When Yeobright reached the cottage of Susan Nunsuch, the mother of the +boy he sought, he found that the inmates were not yet astir. But in +upland hamlets the transition from a-bed to abroad is surprisingly +swift and easy. There no dense partition of yawns and toilets divides +humanity by night from humanity by day. Yeobright tapped at the upper +window-sill, which he could reach with his walking-stick; and in three +or four minutes the woman came down. + +It was not till this moment that Clym recollected her to be the person +who had behaved so barbarously to Eustacia. It partly explained the +insuavity with which the woman greeted him. Moreover, the boy had +been ailing again; and Susan now, as ever since the night when he had +been pressed into Eustacia's service at the bonfire, attributed his +indispositions to Eustacia's influence as a witch. It was one of +those sentiments which lurk like moles underneath the visible surface +of manners, and may have been kept alive by Eustacia's entreaty to the +captain, at the time that he had intended to prosecute Susan for the +pricking in church, to let the matter drop; which he accordingly had +done. + +Yeobright overcame his repugnance, for Susan had at least borne his +mother no ill-will. He asked kindly for the boy; but her manner did +not improve. + +"I wish to see him," continued Yeobright, with some hesitation; "to +ask him if he remembers anything more of his walk with my mother than +what he has previously told." + +She regarded him in a peculiar and criticizing manner. To anybody but +a half-blind man it would have said, "You want another of the knocks +which have already laid you so low." + +She called the boy downstairs, asked Clym to sit down on a stool, and +continued, "Now, Johnny, tell Mr. Yeobright anything you can call to +mind." + +"You have not forgotten how you walked with the poor lady on that hot +day?" said Clym. + +"No," said the boy. + +"And what she said to you?" + +The boy repeated the exact words he had used on entering the hut. +Yeobright rested his elbow on the table and shaded his face with his +hand; and the mother looked as if she wondered how a man could want +more of what had stung him so deeply. + +"She was going to Alderworth when you first met her?" + +"No; she was coming away." + +"That can't be." + +"Yes; she walked along with me. I was coming away too." + +"Then where did you first see her?" + +"At your house." + +"Attend, and speak the truth!" said Clym sternly. + +"Yes, sir; at your house was where I seed her first." + +Clym started up, and Susan smiled in an expectant way which did not +embellish her face; it seemed to mean, "Something sinister is coming!" + +"What did she do at my house?" + +"She went and sat under the trees at the Devil's Bellows." + +"Good God! this is all news to me!" + +"You never told me this before?" said Susan. + +"No, mother; because I didn't like to tell 'ee I had been so far. I +was picking black-hearts, and went further than I meant." + +"What did she do then?" said Yeobright. + +"Looked at a man who came up and went into your house." + +"That was myself--a furze-cutter, with brambles in his hand." + +"No; 'twas not you. 'Twas a gentleman. You had gone in afore." + +"Who was he?" + +"I don't know." + +"Now tell me what happened next." + +"The poor lady went and knocked at your door, and the lady with black +hair looked out of the side window at her." + +The boy's mother turned to Clym and said, "This is something you +didn't expect?" + +Yeobright took no more notice of her than if he had been of stone. +"Go on, go on," he said hoarsely to the boy. + +"And when she saw the young lady look out of the window the old lady +knocked again; and when nobody came she took up the furze-hook and +looked at it, and put it down again, and then she looked at the +faggot-bonds; and then she went away, and walked across to me, and +blowed her breath very hard, like this. We walked on together, she +and I, and I talked to her and she talked to me a bit, but not much, +because she couldn't blow her breath." + +"O!" murmured Clym, in a low tone, and bowed his head. "Let's have +more," he said. + +"She couldn't talk much, and she couldn't walk; and her face was, O +so queer!" + +"How was her face?" + +"Like yours is now." + +The woman looked at Yeobright, and beheld him colourless, in a cold +sweat. "Isn't there meaning in it?" she said stealthily. "What do +you think of her now?" + +"Silence!" said Clym fiercely. And, turning to the boy, "And then you +left her to die?" + +"No," said the woman, quickly and angrily. "He did not leave her to +die! She sent him away. Whoever says he forsook her says what's not +true." + +"Trouble no more about that," answered Clym, with a quivering mouth. +"What he did is a trifle in comparison with what he saw. Door kept +shut, did you say? Kept shut, she looking out of window? Good heart +of God!--what does it mean?" + +The child shrank away from the gaze of his questioner. + +"He said so," answered the mother, "and Johnny's a God-fearing boy +and tells no lies." + +"'Cast off by my son!' No, by my best life, dear mother, it is not so! +But by your son's, your son's--May all murderesses get the torment +they deserve!" + +With these words Yeobright went forth from the little dwelling. The +pupils of his eyes, fixed steadfastly on blankness, were vaguely +lit with an icy shine; his mouth had passed into the phase more or +less imaginatively rendered in studies of Oedipus. The strangest +deeds were possible to his mood. But they were not possible to +his situation. Instead of there being before him the pale face +of Eustacia, and a masculine shape unknown, there was only the +imperturbable countenance of the heath, which, having defied the +cataclysmal onsets of centuries, reduced to insignificance by its +seamed and antique features the wildest turmoil of a single man. + + + + +III + +Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning + + +A consciousness of a vast impassivity in all which lay around him took +possession even of Yeobright in his wild walk towards Alderworth. He +had once before felt in his own person this overpowering of the fervid +by the inanimate; but then it had tended to enervate a passion far +sweeter than that which at present pervaded him. It was once when he +stood parting from Eustacia in the moist still levels beyond the +hills. + +But dismissing all this he went onward home, and came to the front of +his house. The blinds of Eustacia's bedroom were still closely drawn, +for she was no early riser. All the life visible was in the shape of +a solitary thrush cracking a small snail upon the door-stone for his +breakfast, and his tapping seemed a loud noise in the general silence +which prevailed; but on going to the door Clym found it unfastened, +the young girl who attended upon Eustacia being astir in the back part +of the premises. Yeobright entered and went straight to his wife's +room. + +The noise of his arrival must have aroused her, for when he opened the +door she was standing before the looking-glass in her night-dress, the +ends of her hair gathered into one hand, with which she was coiling +the whole mass round her head, previous to beginning toilette +operations. She was not a woman given to speaking first at a meeting, +and she allowed Clym to walk across in silence, without turning her +head. He came behind her, and she saw his face in the glass. It was +ashy, haggard, and terrible. Instead of starting towards him in +sorrowful surprise, as even Eustacia, undemonstrative wife as she was, +would have done in days before she burdened herself with a secret, +she remained motionless, looking at him in the glass. And while +she looked the carmine flush with which warmth and sound sleep had +suffused her cheeks and neck dissolved from view, and the deathlike +pallor in his face flew across into hers. He was close enough to see +this, and the sight instigated his tongue. + +"You know what is the matter," he said huskily. "I see it in your +face." + +Her hand relinquished the rope of hair and dropped to her side, and +the pile of tresses, no longer supported, fell from the crown of her +head about her shoulders and over the white night-gown. She made no +reply. + +"Speak to me," said Yeobright peremptorily. + +The blanching process did not cease in her, and her lips now became as +white as her face. She turned to him and said, "Yes, Clym, I'll speak +to you. Why do you return so early? Can I do anything for you?" + +"Yes, you can listen to me. It seems that my wife is not very well?" + +"Why?" + +"Your face, my dear; your face. Or perhaps it is the pale morning +light which takes your colour away? Now I am going to reveal a secret +to you. Ha-ha!" + +"O, that is ghastly!" + +"What?" + +"Your laugh." + +"There's reason for ghastliness. Eustacia, you have held my happiness +in the hollow of your hand, and like a devil you have dashed it down!" + +She started back from the dressing-table, retreated a few steps from +him, and looked him in the face. "Ah! you think to frighten me," she +said, with a slight laugh. "Is it worth while? I am undefended, and +alone." + +"How extraordinary!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"As there is ample time I will tell you, though you know well enough. +I mean that it is extraordinary that you should be alone in my +absence. Tell me, now, where is he who was with you on the afternoon +of the thirty-first of August? Under the bed? Up the chimney?" + +A shudder overcame her and shook the light fabric of her night-dress +throughout. "I do not remember dates so exactly," she said. "I +cannot recollect that anybody was with me besides yourself." + +"The day I mean," said Yeobright, his voice growing louder and +harsher, "was the day you shut the door against my mother and killed +her. O, it is too much--too bad!" He leant over the footpiece of the +bedstead for a few moments, with his back towards her; then rising +again: "Tell me, tell me! tell me--do you hear?" he cried, rushing up +to her and seizing her by the loose folds of her sleeve. + +The superstratum of timidity which often overlies those who are daring +and defiant at heart had been passed through, and the mettlesome +substance of the woman was reached. The red blood inundated her face, +previously so pale. + +"What are you going to do?" she said in a low voice, regarding him +with a proud smile. "You will not alarm me by holding on so; but it +would be a pity to tear my sleeve." + +Instead of letting go he drew her closer to him. "Tell me the +particulars of--my mother's death," he said in a hard, panting +whisper; "or--I'll--I'll--" + +"Clym," she answered slowly, "do you think you dare do anything to +me that I dare not bear? But before you strike me listen. You will +get nothing from me by a blow, even though it should kill me, as it +probably will. But perhaps you do not wish me to speak--killing may +be all you mean?" + +"Kill you! Do you expect it?" + +"I do." + +"Why?" + +"No less degree of rage against me will match your previous grief for +her." + +"Phew--I shall not kill you," he said contemptuously, as if under a +sudden change of purpose. "I did think of it; but--I shall not. That +would be making a martyr of you, and sending you to where she is; and +I would keep you away from her till the universe come to an end, if I +could." + +"I almost wish you would kill me," said she with gloomy bitterness. +"It is with no strong desire, I assure you, that I play the part I +have lately played on earth. You are no blessing, my husband." + +"You shut the door--you looked out of the window upon her--you +had a man in the house with you--you sent her away to die. The +inhumanity--the treachery--I will not touch you--stand away from +me--and confess every word!" + +"Never! I'll hold my tongue like the very death that I don't mind +meeting, even though I can clear myself of half you believe by +speaking. Yes. I will! Who of any dignity would take the trouble to +clear cobwebs from a wild man's mind after such language as this? No; +let him go on, and think his narrow thoughts, and run his head into +the mire. I have other cares." + +"'Tis too much--but I must spare you." + +"Poor charity." + +"By my wretched soul you sting me, Eustacia! I can keep it up, and +hotly too. Now, then, madam, tell me his name!" + +"Never, I am resolved." + +"How often does he write to you? Where does he put his letters--when +does he meet you? Ah, his letters! Do you tell me his name?" + +"I do not." + +"Then I'll find it myself." His eyes had fallen upon a small desk +that stood near, on which she was accustomed to write her letters. +He went to it. It was locked. + +"Unlock this!" + +"You have no right to say it. That's mine." + +Without another word he seized the desk and dashed it to the floor. +The hinge burst open, and a number of letters tumbled out. + +"Stay!" said Eustacia, stepping before him with more excitement than +she had hitherto shown. + +"Come, come! stand away! I must see them." + +She looked at the letters as they lay, checked her feeling, and moved +indifferently aside; when he gathered them up, and examined them. + +By no stretch of meaning could any but a harmless construction be +placed upon a single one of the letters themselves. The solitary +exception was an empty envelope directed to her, and the handwriting +was Wildeve's. Yeobright held it up. Eustacia was doggedly silent. + +"Can you read, madam? Look at this envelope. Doubtless we shall find +more soon, and what was inside them. I shall no doubt be gratified by +learning in good time what a well-finished and full-blown adept in a +certain trade my lady is." + +"Do you say it to me--do you?" she gasped. + +He searched further, but found nothing more. "What was in this +letter?" he said. + +"Ask the writer. Am I your hound that you should talk to me in this +way?" + +"Do you brave me? do you stand me out, mistress? Answer. Don't look +at me with those eyes as if you would bewitch me again! Sooner than +that I die. You refuse to answer?" + +"I wouldn't tell you after this, if I were as innocent as the sweetest +babe in heaven!" + +"Which you are not." + +"Certainly I am not absolutely," she replied. "I have not done what +you suppose; but if to have done no harm at all is the only innocence +recognized, I am beyond forgiveness. But I require no help from your +conscience." + +"You can resist, and resist again! Instead of hating you I could, I +think, mourn for and pity you, if you were contrite, and would confess +all. Forgive you I never can. I don't speak of your lover--I will +give you the benefit of the doubt in that matter, for it only affects +me personally. But the other: had you half-killed ME, had it been +that you wilfully took the sight away from these feeble eyes of mine, +I could have forgiven you. But THAT'S too much for nature!" + +"Say no more. I will do without your pity. But I would have saved +you from uttering what you will regret." + +"I am going away now. I shall leave you." + +"You need not go, as I am going myself. You will keep just as far +away from me by staying here." + +"Call her to mind--think of her--what goodness there was in her: it +showed in every line of her face! Most women, even when but slightly +annoyed, show a flicker of evil in some curl of the mouth or some +corner of the cheek; but as for her, never in her angriest moments was +there anything malicious in her look. She was angered quickly, but +she forgave just as readily, and underneath her pride there was the +meekness of a child. What came of it?--what cared you? You hated her +just as she was learning to love you. O! couldn't you see what was +best for you, but must bring a curse upon me, and agony and death +upon her, by doing that cruel deed! What was the fellow's name who +was keeping you company and causing you to add cruelty to her to your +wrong to me? Was it Wildeve? Was it poor Thomasin's husband? Heaven, +what wickedness! Lost your voice, have you? It is natural after +detection of that most noble trick... Eustacia, didn't any tender +thought of your own mother lead you to think of being gentle to mine +at such a time of weariness? Did not one grain of pity enter your +heart as she turned away? Think what a vast opportunity was then lost +of beginning a forgiving and honest course. Why did not you kick him +out, and let her in, and say I'll be an honest wife and a noble woman +from this hour? Had I told you to go and quench eternally our last +flickering chance of happiness here you could have done no worse. +Well, she's asleep now; and have you a hundred gallants, neither they +nor you can insult her any more." + +"You exaggerate fearfully," she said in a faint, weary voice; "but I +cannot enter into my defence--it is not worth doing. You are nothing +to me in future, and the past side of the story may as well remain +untold. I have lost all through you, but I have not complained. Your +blunders and misfortunes may have been a sorrow to you, but they +have been a wrong to me. All persons of refinement have been scared +away from me since I sank into the mire of marriage. Is this your +cherishing--to put me into a hut like this, and keep me like the wife +of a hind? You deceived me--not by words, but by appearances, which +are less seen through than words. But the place will serve as well as +any other--as somewhere to pass from--into my grave." Her words were +smothered in her throat, and her head drooped down. + +"I don't know what you mean by that. Am I the cause of your sin?" +(Eustacia made a trembling motion towards him.) "What, you can begin +to shed tears and offer me your hand? Good God! can you? No, not I. +I'll not commit the fault of taking that." (The hand she had offered +dropped nervelessly, but the tears continued flowing.) "Well, yes, +I'll take it, if only for the sake of my own foolish kisses that were +wasted there before I knew what I cherished. How bewitched I was! How +could there be any good in a woman that everybody spoke ill of?" + +"O, O, O!" she cried, breaking down at last; and, shaking with sobs +which choked her, she sank upon her knees. "O, will you have done! O, +you are too relentless--there's a limit to the cruelty of savages! I +have held out long--but you crush me down. I beg for mercy--I cannot +bear this any longer--it is inhuman to go further with this! If I +had--killed your--mother with my own hand--I should not deserve such a +scourging to the bone as this. O, O! God have mercy upon a miserable +woman!... You have beaten me in this game--I beg you to stay your hand +in pity!... I confess that I--wilfully did not undo the door the first +time she knocked--but--I--should have unfastened it the second--if +I had not thought you had gone to do it yourself. When I found you +had not I opened it, but she was gone. That's the extent of my +crime--towards HER. Best natures commit bad faults sometimes, don't +they?--I think they do. Now I will leave you--for ever and ever!" + +"Tell all, and I WILL pity you. Was the man in the house with you +Wildeve?" + +"I cannot tell," she said desperately through her sobbing. "Don't +insist further--I cannot tell. I am going from this house. We cannot +both stay here." + +"You need not go: I will go. You can stay here." + +"No, I will dress, and then I will go." + +"Where?" + +"Where I came from, or ELSEwhere." + +She hastily dressed herself, Yeobright moodily walking up and down +the room the whole of the time. At last all her things were on. Her +little hands quivered so violently as she held them to her chin to +fasten her bonnet that she could not tie the strings, and after a few +moments she relinquished the attempt. Seeing this he moved forward +and said, "Let me tie them." + +She assented in silence, and lifted her chin. For once at least in +her life she was totally oblivious of the charm of her attitude. But +he was not, and he turned his eyes aside, that he might not be tempted +to softness. + +The strings were tied; she turned from him. "Do you still prefer +going away yourself to my leaving you?" he inquired again. + +"I do." + +"Very well--let it be. And when you will confess to the man I may +pity you." + +She flung her shawl about her and went downstairs, leaving him +standing in the room. + + + +Eustacia had not long been gone when there came a knock at the door +of the bedroom; and Yeobright said, "Well?" + +It was the servant; and she replied, "Somebody from Mrs. Wildeve's +have called to tell 'ee that the mis'ess and the baby are getting on +wonderful well, and the baby's name is to be Eustacia Clementine." +And the girl retired. + +"What a mockery!" said Clym. "This unhappy marriage of mine to be +perpetuated in that child's name!" + + + + +IV + +The Ministrations of a Half-forgotten One + + +Eustacia's journey was at first as vague in direction as that of +thistledown on the wind. She did not know what to do. She wished it +had been night instead of morning, that she might at least have borne +her misery without the possibility of being seen. Tracing mile after +mile along between the dying ferns and the wet white spiders' webs, +she at length turned her steps towards her grandfather's house. She +found the front door closed and locked. Mechanically she went round +to the end where the stable was, and on looking in at the stable-door +she saw Charley standing within. + +"Captain Vye is not at home?" she said. + +"No, ma'am," said the lad in a flutter of feeling; "he's gone to +Weatherbury, and won't be home till night. And the servant is gone +home for a holiday. So the house is locked up." + +Eustacia's face was not visible to Charley as she stood at the +doorway, her back being to the sky, and the stable but indifferently +lighted; but the wildness of her manner arrested his attention. She +turned and walked away across the enclosure to the gate, and was +hidden by the bank. + +When she had disappeared Charley, with misgiving in his eyes, slowly +came from the stable door, and going to another point in the bank he +looked over. Eustacia was leaning against it on the outside, her face +covered with her hands, and her head pressing the dewy heather which +bearded the bank's outer side. She appeared to be utterly indifferent +to the circumstance that her bonnet, hair, and garments were becoming +wet and disarranged by the moisture of her cold, harsh pillow. +Clearly something was wrong. + +Charley had always regarded Eustacia as Eustacia had regarded Clym +when she first beheld him--as a romantic and sweet vision, scarcely +incarnate. He had been so shut off from her by the dignity of her +look and the pride of her speech, except at that one blissful interval +when he was allowed to hold her hand, that he had hardly deemed her +a woman, wingless and earthly, subject to household conditions and +domestic jars. The inner details of her life he had only conjectured. +She had been a lovely wonder, predestined to an orbit in which the +whole of his own was but a point; and this sight of her leaning like a +helpless, despairing creature against a wild wet bank filled him with +an amazed horror. He could no longer remain where he was. Leaping +over, he came up, touched her with his finger, and said tenderly, "You +are poorly, ma'am. What can I do?" + +Eustacia started up, and said, "Ah, Charley--you have followed me. +You did not think when I left home in the summer that I should come +back like this!" + +"I did not, dear ma'am. Can I help you now?" + +"I am afraid not. I wish I could get into the house. I feel +giddy--that's all." + +"Lean on my arm, ma'am, till we get to the porch, and I will try to +open the door." + +He supported her to the porch, and there depositing her on a seat +hastened to the back, climbed to a window by the help of a ladder, +and descending inside opened the door. Next he assisted her into the +room, where there was an old-fashioned horsehair settee as large as a +donkey-waggon. She lay down here, and Charley covered her with a cloak +he found in the hall. + +"Shall I get you something to eat and drink?" he said. + +"If you please, Charley. But I suppose there is no fire?" + +"I can light it, ma'am." + +He vanished, and she heard a splitting of wood and a blowing of +bellows; and presently he returned, saying, "I have lighted a fire in +the kitchen, and now I'll light one here." + +He lit the fire, Eustacia dreamily observing him from her couch. When +it was blazing up he said, "Shall I wheel you round in front of it, +ma'am, as the morning is chilly?" + +"Yes, if you like." + +"Shall I go and bring the victuals now?" + +"Yes, do," she murmured languidly. + +When he had gone, and the dull sounds occasionally reached her ears +of his movements in the kitchen, she forgot where she was, and had +for a moment to consider by an effort what the sounds meant. After an +interval which seemed short to her whose thoughts were elsewhere, he +came in with a tray on which steamed tea and toast, though it was +nearly lunch-time. + +"Place it on the table," she said. "I shall be ready soon." + +He did so, and retired to the door; when, however, he perceived that +she did not move he came back a few steps. + +"Let me hold it to you, if you don't wish to get up," said Charley. +He brought the tray to the front of the couch, where he knelt down, +adding, "I will hold it for you." + +Eustacia sat up and poured out a cup of tea. "You are very kind to +me, Charley," she murmured as she sipped. + +"Well, I ought to be," said he diffidently, taking great trouble +not to rest his eyes upon her, though this was their only natural +position, Eustacia being immediately before him. "You have been kind +to me." + +"How have I?" said Eustacia. + +"You let me hold your hand when you were a maiden at home." + +"Ah, so I did. Why did I do that? My mind is lost--it had to do with +the mumming, had it not?" + +"Yes, you wanted to go in my place." + +"I remember. I do indeed remember--too well!" + +She again became utterly downcast; and Charley, seeing that she was +not going to eat or drink any more, took away the tray. + +Afterwards he occasionally came in to see if the fire was burning, to +ask her if she wanted anything, to tell her that the wind had shifted +from south to west, to ask her if she would like him to gather her +some blackberries; to all which inquiries she replied in the negative +or with indifference. + +She remained on the settee some time longer, when she aroused herself +and went upstairs. The room in which she had formerly slept still +remained much as she had left it, and the recollection that this +forced upon her of her own greatly changed and infinitely worsened +situation again set on her face the undetermined and formless +misery which it had worn on her first arrival. She peeped into her +grandfather's room, through which the fresh autumn air was blowing +from the open window. Her eye was arrested by what was a familiar +sight enough, though it broke upon her now with a new significance. + +It was a brace of pistols, hanging near the head of her grandfather's +bed, which he always kept there loaded, as a precaution against +possible burglars, the house being very lonely. Eustacia regarded +them long, as if they were the page of a book in which she read a +new and a strange matter. Quickly, like one afraid of herself, she +returned downstairs and stood in deep thought. + +"If I could only do it!" she said. "It would be doing much good to +myself and all connected with me, and no harm to a single one." + +The idea seemed to gather force within her, and she remained in +a fixed attitude nearly ten minutes, when a certain finality was +expressed in her gaze, and no longer the blankness of indecision. + +She turned and went up the second time--softly and stealthily now--and +entered her grandfather's room, her eyes at once seeking the head of +the bed. The pistols were gone. + +The instant quashing of her purpose by their absence affected her +brain as a sudden vacuum affects the body: she nearly fainted. Who +had done this? There was only one person on the premises besides +herself. Eustacia involuntarily turned to the open window which +overlooked the garden as far as the bank that bounded it. On the +summit of the latter stood Charley, sufficiently elevated by its +height to see into the room. His gaze was directed eagerly and +solicitously upon her. + +She went downstairs to the door and beckoned to him. + +"You have taken them away?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Why did you do it?" + +"I saw you looking at them too long." + +"What has that to do with it?" + +"You have been heart-broken all the morning, as if you did not want +to live." + +"Well?" + +"And I could not bear to leave them in your way. There was meaning +in your look at them." + +"Where are they now?" + +"Locked up." + +"Where?" + +"In the stable." + +"Give them to me." + +"No, ma'am." + +"You refuse?" + +"I do. I care too much for you to give 'em up." + +She turned aside, her face for the first time softening from the stony +immobility of the earlier day, and the corners of her mouth resuming +something of that delicacy of cut which was always lost in her moments +of despair. At last she confronted him again. + +"Why should I not die if I wish?" she said tremulously. "I have made +a bad bargain with life, and I am weary of it--weary. And now you have +hindered my escape. O, why did you, Charley! What makes death painful +except the thought of others' grief?--and that is absent in my case, +for not a sigh would follow me!" + +"Ah, it is trouble that has done this! I wish in my very soul that he +who brought it about might die and rot, even if 'tis transportation to +say it!" + +"Charley, no more of that. What do you mean to do about this you have +seen?" + +"Keep it close as night, if you promise not to think of it again." + +"You need not fear. The moment has passed. I promise." She then went +away, entered the house, and lay down. + +Later in the afternoon her grandfather returned. He was about to +question her categorically; but on looking at her he withheld his +words. + +"Yes, it is too bad to talk of," she slowly returned in answer to his +glance. "Can my old room be got ready for me tonight, grandfather? I +shall want to occupy it again." + +He did not ask what it all meant, or why she had left her husband, but +ordered the room to be prepared. + + + + +V + +An Old Move Inadvertently Repeated + + +Charley's attentions to his former mistress were unbounded. The only +solace to his own trouble lay in his attempts to relieve hers. Hour +after hour he considered her wants: he thought of her presence there +with a sort of gratitude, and, while uttering imprecations on the +cause of her unhappiness, in some measure blessed the result. Perhaps +she would always remain there, he thought, and then he would be as +happy as he had been before. His dread was lest she should think fit +to return to Alderworth, and in that dread his eyes, with all the +inquisitiveness of affection, frequently sought her face when she was +not observing him, as he would have watched the head of a stockdove +to learn if it contemplated flight. Having once really succoured her, +and possibly preserved her from the rashest of acts, he mentally +assumed in addition a guardian's responsibility for her welfare. + +For this reason he busily endeavoured to provide her with pleasant +distractions, bringing home curious objects which he found in the +heath, such as white trumpet-shaped mosses, red-headed lichens, stone +arrow-heads used by the old tribes on Egdon, and faceted crystals from +the hollows of flints. These he deposited on the premises in such +positions that she should see them as if by accident. + +A week passed, Eustacia never going out of the house. Then she walked +into the enclosed plot and looked through her grandfather's spy-glass, +as she had been in the habit of doing before her marriage. One day +she saw, at a place where the high-road crossed the distant valley, +a heavily laden waggon passing along. It was piled with household +furniture. She looked again and again, and recognized it to be her +own. In the evening her grandfather came indoors with a rumour that +Yeobright had removed that day from Alderworth to the old house at +Blooms-End. + +On another occasion when reconnoitring thus she beheld two female +figures walking in the vale. The day was fine and clear; and the +persons not being more than half a mile off she could see their every +detail with the telescope. The woman walking in front carried a white +bundle in her arms, from one end of which hung a long appendage of +drapery; and when the walkers turned, so that the sun fell more +directly upon them, Eustacia could see that the object was a baby. +She called Charley, and asked him if he knew who they were, though +she well guessed. + +"Mrs. Wildeve and the nurse-girl," said Charley. + +"The nurse is carrying the baby?" said Eustacia. + +"No, 'tis Mrs. Wildeve carrying that," he answered, "and the nurse +walks behind carrying nothing." + +The lad was in good spirits that day, for the Fifth of November had +again come round, and he was planning yet another scheme to divert +her from her too absorbing thoughts. For two successive years his +mistress had seemed to take pleasure in lighting a bonfire on the +bank overlooking the valley; but this year she had apparently quite +forgotten the day and the customary deed. He was careful not to +remind her, and went on with his secret preparations for a cheerful +surprise, the more zealously that he had been absent last time and +unable to assist. At every vacant minute he hastened to gather +furze-stumps, thorn-tree roots, and other solid materials from the +adjacent slopes, hiding them from cursory view. + +The evening came, and Eustacia was still seemingly unconscious of the +anniversary. She had gone indoors after her survey through the glass, +and had not been visible since. As soon as it was quite dark Charley +began to build the bonfire, choosing precisely that spot on the bank +which Eustacia had chosen at previous times. + +When all the surrounding bonfires had burst into existence Charley +kindled his, and arranged its fuel so that it should not require +tending for some time. He then went back to the house, and lingered +round the door and windows till she should by some means or other +learn of his achievement and come out to witness it. But the shutters +were closed, the door remained shut, and no heed whatever seemed to +be taken of his performance. Not liking to call her he went back and +replenished the fire, continuing to do this for more than half an +hour. It was not till his stock of fuel had greatly diminished that +he went to the back door and sent in to beg that Mrs. Yeobright would +open the window-shutters and see the sight outside. + +Eustacia, who had been sitting listlessly in the parlour, started up +at the intelligence and flung open the shutters. Facing her on the +bank blazed the fire, which at once sent a ruddy glare into the room +where she was, and overpowered the candles. + +"Well done, Charley!" said Captain Vye from the chimney-corner. "But +I hope it is not my wood that he's burning... Ah, it was this time +last year that I met with that man Venn, bringing home Thomasin +Yeobright--to be sure it was! Well, who would have thought that girl's +troubles would have ended so well? What a snipe you were in that +matter, Eustacia! Has your husband written to you yet?" + +"No," said Eustacia, looking vaguely through the window at the fire, +which just then so much engaged her mind that she did not resent her +grandfather's blunt opinion. She could see Charley's form on the +bank, shovelling and stirring the fire; and there flashed upon her +imagination some other form which that fire might call up. + +She left the room, put on her garden-bonnet and cloak, and went +out. Reaching the bank, she looked over with a wild curiosity and +misgiving, when Charley said to her, with a pleased sense of himself, +"I made it o' purpose for you, ma'am." + +"Thank you," she said hastily. "But I wish you to put it out now." + +"It will soon burn down," said Charley, rather disappointed. "Is it +not a pity to knock it out?" + +"I don't know," she musingly answered. + +They stood in silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames, +till Charley, perceiving that she did not want to talk to him, moved +reluctantly away. + +Eustacia remained within the bank looking at the fire, intending to +go indoors, yet lingering still. Had she not by her situation been +inclined to hold in indifference all things honoured of the gods +and of men she would probably have come away. But her state was so +hopeless that she could play with it. To have lost is less disturbing +than to wonder if we may possibly have won: and Eustacia could now, +like other people at such a stage, take a standing-point outside +herself, observe herself as a disinterested spectator, and think what +a sport for Heaven this woman Eustacia was. + +While she stood she heard a sound. It was the splash of a stone in +the pond. + +Had Eustacia received the stone full in the bosom her heart could not +have given a more decided thump. She had thought of the possibility +of such a signal in answer to that which had been unwittingly given by +Charley; but she had not expected it yet. How prompt Wildeve was! Yet +how could he think her capable of deliberately wishing to renew their +assignations now? An impulse to leave the spot, a desire to stay, +struggled within her; and the desire held its own. More than that it +did not do, for she refrained even from ascending the bank and looking +over. She remained motionless, not disturbing a muscle of her face or +raising her eyes; for were she to turn up her face the fire on the +bank would shine upon it, and Wildeve might be looking down. + +There was a second splash into the pond. + +Why did he stay so long without advancing and looking over? Curiosity +had its way: she ascended one or two of the earth-steps in the bank +and glanced out. + +Wildeve was before her. He had come forward after throwing the last +pebble, and the fire now shone into each of their faces from the bank +stretching breast-high between them. + +"I did not light it!" cried Eustacia quickly. "It was lit without my +knowledge. Don't, don't come over to me!" + +"Why have you been living here all these days without telling me? You +have left your home. I fear I am something to blame for this?" + +"I did not let in his mother; that's how it is!" + +"You do not deserve what you have got, Eustacia; you are in great +misery; I see it in your eyes, your mouth, and all over you. My poor, +poor girl!" He stepped over the bank. "You are beyond everything +unhappy!" + +"No, no; not exactly--" + +"It has been pushed too far--it is killing you: I do think it!" + +Her usually quiet breathing had grown quicker with his words. +"I--I--" she began, and then burst into quivering sobs, shaken to +the very heart by the unexpected voice of pity--a sentiment whose +existence in relation to herself she had almost forgotten. + +This outbreak of weeping took Eustacia herself so much by surprise +that she could not leave off, and she turned aside from him in some +shame, though turning hid nothing from him. She sobbed on desperately; +then the outpour lessened, and she became quieter. Wildeve had +resisted the impulse to clasp her, and stood without speaking. + +"Are you not ashamed of me, who used never to be a crying animal?" +she asked in a weak whisper as she wiped her eyes. "Why didn't you go +away? I wish you had not seen quite all that; it reveals too much by +half." + +"You might have wished it, because it makes me as sad as you," he said +with emotion and deference. "As for revealing--the word is impossible +between us two." + +"I did not send for you--don't forget it, Damon; I am in pain, but I +did not send for you! As a wife, at least, I've been straight." + +"Never mind--I came. O, Eustacia, forgive me for the harm I have done +you in these two past years! I see more and more that I have been your +ruin." + +"Not you. This place I live in." + +"Ah, your generosity may naturally make you say that. But I am the +culprit. I should either have done more or nothing at all." + +"In what way?" + +"I ought never to have hunted you out, or, having done it, I ought +to have persisted in retaining you. But of course I have no right to +talk of that now. I will only ask this: can I do anything for you? +Is there anything on the face of the earth that a man can do to make +you happier than you are at present? If there is, I will do it. You +may command me, Eustacia, to the limit of my influence; and don't +forget that I am richer now. Surely something can be done to save +you from this! Such a rare plant in such a wild place it grieves me +to see. Do you want anything bought? Do you want to go anywhere? Do +you want to escape the place altogether? Only say it, and I'll do +anything to put an end to those tears, which but for me would never +have been at all." + +"We are each married to another person," she said faintly; "and +assistance from you would have an evil sound--after--after--" + +"Well, there's no preventing slanderers from having their fill at any +time; but you need not be afraid. Whatever I may feel I promise you +on my word of honour never to speak to you about--or act upon--until +you say I may. I know my duty to Thomasin quite as well as I know my +duty to you as a woman unfairly treated. What shall I assist you in?" + +"In getting away from here." + +"Where do you wish to go to?" + +"I have a place in my mind. If you could help me as far as Budmouth +I can do all the rest. Steamers sail from there across the Channel, +and so I can get to Paris, where I want to be. Yes," she pleaded +earnestly, "help me to get to Budmouth harbour without my +grandfather's or my husband's knowledge, and I can do all the rest." + +"Will it be safe to leave you there alone?" + +"Yes, yes. I know Budmouth well." + +"Shall I go with you? I am rich now." + +She was silent. + +"Say yes, sweet!" + +She was silent still. + +"Well, let me know when you wish to go. We shall be at our present +house till December; after that we remove to Casterbridge. Command me +in anything till that time." + +"I will think of this," she said hurriedly. "Whether I can honestly +make use of you as a friend, or must close with you as a lover--that +is what I must ask myself. If I wish to go and decide to accept your +company I will signal to you some evening at eight o'clock punctually, +and this will mean that you are to be ready with a horse and trap at +twelve o'clock the same night to drive me to Budmouth harbour in time +for the morning boat." + +"I will look out every night at eight, and no signal shall escape me." + +"Now please go away. If I decide on this escape I can only meet you +once more unless--I cannot go without you. Go--I cannot bear it +longer. Go--go!" + +Wildeve slowly went up the steps and descended into the darkness +on the other side; and as he walked he glanced back, till the bank +blotted out her form from his further view. + + + + +VI + +Thomasin Argues with Her Cousin, and He Writes a Letter + + +Yeobright was at this time at Blooms-End, hoping that Eustacia would +return to him. The removal of furniture had been accomplished only +that day, though Clym had lived in the old house for more than a week. +He had spent the time in working about the premises, sweeping leaves +from the garden-paths, cutting dead stalks from the flower-beds, and +nailing up creepers which had been displaced by the autumn winds. He +took no particular pleasure in these deeds, but they formed a screen +between himself and despair. Moreover, it had become a religion with +him to preserve in good condition all that had lapsed from his +mother's hands to his own. + +During these operations he was constantly on the watch for Eustacia. +That there should be no mistake about her knowing where to find him +he had ordered a notice board to be affixed to the garden gate at +Alderworth, signifying in white letters whither he had removed. When a +leaf floated to the earth he turned his head, thinking it might be her +footfall. A bird searching for worms in the mould of the flower-beds +sounded like her hand on the latch of the gate; and at dusk, when +soft, strange ventriloquisms came from holes in the ground, hollow +stalks, curled dead leaves, and other crannies wherein breezes, worms, +and insects can work their will, he fancied that they were Eustacia, +standing without and breathing wishes of reconciliation. + +Up to this hour he had persevered in his resolve not to invite her +back. At the same time the severity with which he had treated her +lulled the sharpness of his regret for his mother, and awoke some +of his old solicitude for his mother's supplanter. Harsh feelings +produce harsh usage, and this by reaction quenches the sentiments that +gave it birth. The more he reflected the more he softened. But to +look upon his wife as innocence in distress was impossible, though he +could ask himself whether he had given her quite time enough--if he +had not come a little too suddenly upon her on that sombre morning. + +Now that the first flush of his anger had paled he was disinclined to +ascribe to her more than an indiscreet friendship with Wildeve, for +there had not appeared in her manner the signs of dishonour. And this +once admitted, an absolutely dark interpretation of her act towards +his mother was no longer forced upon him. + +On the evening of the fifth November his thoughts of Eustacia were +intense. Echoes from those past times when they had exchanged tender +words all the day long came like the diffused murmur of a seashore +left miles behind. "Surely," he said, "she might have brought herself +to communicate with me before now, and confess honestly what Wildeve +was to her." + +Instead of remaining at home that night he determined to go and see +Thomasin and her husband. If he found opportunity he would allude to +the cause of the separation between Eustacia and himself, keeping +silence, however, on the fact that there was a third person in his +house when his mother was turned away. If it proved that Wildeve was +innocently there he would doubtless openly mention it. If he were +there with unjust intentions Wildeve, being a man of quick feeling, +might possibly say something to reveal the extent to which Eustacia +was compromised. + +But on reaching his cousin's house he found that only Thomasin was +at home, Wildeve being at that time on his way towards the bonfire +innocently lit by Charley at Mistover. Thomasin then, as always, was +glad to see Clym, and took him to inspect the sleeping baby, carefully +screening the candlelight from the infant's eyes with her hand. + +"Tamsin, have you heard that Eustacia is not with me now?" he said +when they had sat down again. + +"No," said Thomasin, alarmed. + +"And not that I have left Alderworth?" + +"No. I never hear tidings from Alderworth unless you bring them. What +is the matter?" + +Clym in a disturbed voice related to her his visit to Susan Nunsuch's +boy, the revelation he had made, and what had resulted from his +charging Eustacia with having wilfully and heartlessly done the deed. +He suppressed all mention of Wildeve's presence with her. + +"All this, and I not knowing it!" murmured Thomasin in an awestruck +tone. "Terrible! What could have made her--O, Eustacia! And when you +found it out you went in hot haste to her? Were you too cruel?--or is +she really so wicked as she seems?" + +"Can a man be too cruel to his mother's enemy?" + +"I can fancy so." + +"Very well, then--I'll admit that he can. But now what is to be +done?" + +"Make it up again--if a quarrel so deadly can ever be made up. I +almost wish you had not told me. But do try to be reconciled. There +are ways, after all, if you both wish to." + +"I don't know that we do both wish to make it up," said Clym. "If she +had wished it, would she not have sent to me by this time?" + +"You seem to wish to, and yet you have not sent to her." + +"True; but I have been tossed to and fro in doubt if I ought, after +such strong provocation. To see me now, Thomasin, gives you no idea +of what I have been; of what depths I have descended to in these few +last days. O, it was a bitter shame to shut out my mother like that! +Can I ever forget it, or even agree to see her again?" + +"She might not have known that anything serious would come of it, and +perhaps she did not mean to keep aunt out altogether." + +"She says herself that she did not. But the fact remains that keep +her out she did." + +"Believe her sorry, and send for her." + +"How if she will not come?" + +"It will prove her guilty, by showing that it is her habit to nourish +enmity. But I do not think that for a moment." + +"I will do this. I will wait for a day or two longer--not longer +than two days certainly; and if she does not send to me in that time I +will indeed send to her. I thought to have seen Wildeve here tonight. +Is he from home?" + +Thomasin blushed a little. "No," she said. "He is merely gone out +for a walk." + +"Why didn't he take you with him? The evening is fine. You want fresh +air as well as he." + +"Oh, I don't care for going anywhere; besides, there is baby." + +"Yes, yes. Well, I have been thinking whether I should not consult +your husband about this as well as you," said Clym steadily. + +"I fancy I would not," she quickly answered. "It can do no good." + +Her cousin looked her in the face. No doubt Thomasin was ignorant +that her husband had any share in the events of that tragic afternoon; +but her countenance seemed to signify that she concealed some +suspicion or thought of the reputed tender relations between Wildeve +and Eustacia in days gone by. + +Clym, however, could make nothing of it, and he rose to depart, more +in doubt than when he came. + +"You will write to her in a day or two?" said the young woman +earnestly. "I do so hope the wretched separation may come to an end." + +"I will," said Clym; "I don't rejoice in my present state at all." + +And he left her and climbed over the hill to Blooms-End. Before going +to bed he sat down and wrote the following letter:-- + + + MY DEAR EUSTACIA,--I must obey my heart without consulting + my reason too closely. Will you come back to me? Do so, and + the past shall never be mentioned. I was too severe; but O, + Eustacia, the provocation! You don't know, you never will + know, what those words of anger cost me which you drew down + upon yourself. All that an honest man can promise you I + promise now, which is that from me you shall never suffer + anything on this score again. After all the vows we have + made, Eustacia, I think we had better pass the remainder of + our lives in trying to keep them. Come to me, then, even + if you reproach me. I have thought of your sufferings + that morning on which I parted from you; I know they were + genuine, and they are as much as you ought to bear. Our + love must still continue. Such hearts as ours would never + have been given us but to be concerned with each other. I + could not ask you back at first, Eustacia, for I was unable + to persuade myself that he who was with you was not there + as a lover. But if you will come and explain distracting + appearances I do not question that you can show your + honesty to me. Why have you not come before? Do you think + I will not listen to you? Surely not, when you remember the + kisses and vows we exchanged under the summer moon. Return + then, and you shall be warmly welcomed. I can no longer + think of you to your prejudice--I am but too much absorbed + in justifying you.--Your husband as ever, + + CLYM. + + +"There," he said, as he laid it in his desk, "that's a good thing +done. If she does not come before tomorrow night I will send it to +her." + +Meanwhile, at the house he had just left Thomasin sat sighing +uneasily. Fidelity to her husband had that evening induced her to +conceal all suspicion that Wildeve's interest in Eustacia had not +ended with his marriage. But she knew nothing positive; and though +Clym was her well-beloved cousin there was one nearer to her still. + +When, a little later, Wildeve returned from his walk to Mistover, +Thomasin said, "Damon, where have you been? I was getting quite +frightened, and thought you had fallen into the river. I dislike +being in the house by myself." + +"Frightened?" he said, touching her cheek as if she were some domestic +animal. "Why, I thought nothing could frighten you. It is that you +are getting proud, I am sure, and don't like living here since we have +risen above our business. Well, it is a tedious matter, this getting +a new house; but I couldn't have set about it sooner, unless our +ten thousand pounds had been a hundred thousand, when we could have +afforded to despise caution." + +"No--I don't mind waiting--I would rather stay here twelve months +longer than run any risk with baby. But I don't like your vanishing +so in the evenings. There's something on your mind--I know there is, +Damon. You go about so gloomily, and look at the heath as if it were +somebody's gaol instead of a nice wild place to walk in." + +He looked towards her with pitying surprise. "What, do you like Egdon +Heath?" he said. + +"I like what I was born near to; I admire its grim old face." + +"Pooh, my dear. You don't know what you like." + +"I am sure I do. There's only one thing unpleasant about Egdon." + +"What's that?" + +"You never take me with you when you walk there. Why do you wander so +much in it yourself if you so dislike it?" + +The inquiry, though a simple one, was plainly disconcerting, and he +sat down before replying. "I don't think you often see me there. +Give an instance." + +"I will," she answered triumphantly. "When you went out this evening +I thought that as baby was asleep I would see where you were going to +so mysteriously without telling me. So I ran out and followed behind +you. You stopped at the place where the road forks, looked round at +the bonfires, and then said, 'Damn it, I'll go!' And you went quickly +up the left-hand road. Then I stood and watched you." + +Wildeve frowned, afterwards saying, with a forced smile, "Well, what +wonderful discovery did you make?" + +"There--now you are angry, and we won't talk of this any more." She +went across to him, sat on a footstool, and looked up in his face. + +"Nonsense!" he said, "that's how you always back out. We will go on +with it now we have begun. What did you next see? I particularly +want to know." + +"Don't be like that, Damon!" she murmured. "I didn't see anything. +You vanished out of sight, and then I looked round at the bonfires and +came in." + +"Perhaps this is not the only time you have dogged my steps. Are you +trying to find out something bad about me?" + +"Not at all! I have never done such a thing before, and I shouldn't +have done it now if words had not sometimes been dropped about you." + +"What DO you mean?" he impatiently asked. + +"They say--they say you used to go to Alderworth in the evenings, and +it puts into my mind what I have heard about--" + +Wildeve turned angrily and stood up in front of her. "Now," he said, +flourishing his hand in the air, "just out with it, madam! I demand to +know what remarks you have heard." + +"Well, I heard that you used to be very fond of Eustacia--nothing more +than that, though dropped in a bit-by-bit way. You ought not to be +angry!" + +He observed that her eyes were brimming with tears. "Well," he said, +"there is nothing new in that, and of course I don't mean to be rough +towards you, so you need not cry. Now, don't let us speak of the +subject any more." + +And no more was said, Thomasin being glad enough of a reason for not +mentioning Clym's visit to her that evening, and his story. + + + + +VII + +The Night of the Sixth of November + + +Having resolved on flight Eustacia at times seemed anxious that +something should happen to thwart her own intention. The only event +that could really change her position was the appearance of Clym. The +glory which had encircled him as her lover was departed now; yet some +good simple quality of his would occasionally return to her memory and +stir a momentary throb of hope that he would again present himself +before her. But calmly considered it was not likely that such a +severance as now existed would ever close up: she would have to live +on as a painful object, isolated, and out of place. She had used to +think of the heath alone as an uncongenial spot to be in; she felt it +now of the whole world. + +Towards evening on the sixth her determination to go away again +revived. About four o'clock she packed up anew the few small articles +she had brought in her flight from Alderworth, and also some belonging +to her which had been left here: the whole formed a bundle not too +large to be carried in her hand for a distance of a mile or two. The +scene without grew darker; mud-coloured clouds bellied downwards from +the sky like vast hammocks slung across it, and with the increase of +night a stormy wind arose; but as yet there was no rain. + +Eustacia could not rest indoors, having nothing more to do, and she +wandered to and fro on the hill, not far from the house she was soon +to leave. In these desultory ramblings she passed the cottage of +Susan Nunsuch, a little lower down than her grandfather's. The door +was ajar, and a riband of bright firelight fell over the ground +without. As Eustacia crossed the firebeams she appeared for an +instant as distinct as a figure in a phantasmagoria--a creature of +light surrounded by an area of darkness: the moment passed, and she +was absorbed in night again. + +A woman who was sitting inside the cottage had seen and recognized +her in that momentary irradiation. This was Susan herself, occupied +in preparing a posset for her little boy, who, often ailing, was now +seriously unwell. Susan dropped the spoon, shook her fist at the +vanished figure, and then proceeded with her work in a musing, absent +way. + +At eight o'clock, the hour at which Eustacia had promised to signal +Wildeve if ever she signalled at all, she looked around the premises +to learn if the coast was clear, went to the furze-rick, and pulled +thence a long-stemmed bough of that fuel. This she carried to the +corner of the bank, and, glancing behind to see if the shutters were +all closed, she struck a light, and kindled the furze. When it was +thoroughly ablaze Eustacia took it by the stem and waved it in the +air above her head till it had burned itself out. + +She was gratified, if gratification were possible to such a mood, by +seeing a similar light in the vicinity of Wildeve's residence a minute +or two later. Having agreed to keep watch at this hour every night, +in case she should require assistance, this promptness proved how +strictly he had held to his word. Four hours after the present time, +that is, at midnight, he was to be ready to drive her to Budmouth, as +prearranged. + +Eustacia returned to the house. Supper having been got over she +retired early, and sat in her bedroom waiting for the time to go by. +The night being dark and threatening, Captain Vye had not strolled out +to gossip in any cottage or to call at the inn, as was sometimes his +custom on these long autumn nights; and he sat sipping grog alone +downstairs. About ten o'clock there was a knock at the door. When +the servant opened it the rays of the candle fell upon the form of +Fairway. + +"I was a-forced to go to Lower Mistover tonight," he said, "and Mr. +Yeobright asked me to leave this here on my way; but, faith, I put it +in the lining of my hat, and thought no more about it till I got back +and was hasping my gate before going to bed. So I have run back with +it at once." + +He handed in a letter and went his way. The girl brought it to the +captain, who found that it was directed to Eustacia. He turned it +over and over, and fancied that the writing was her husband's, though +he could not be sure. However, he decided to let her have it at once +if possible, and took it upstairs for that purpose; but on reaching +the door of her room and looking in at the keyhole he found there was +no light within, the fact being that Eustacia, without undressing, had +flung herself upon the bed, to rest and gather a little strength for +her coming journey. Her grandfather concluded from what he saw that +he ought not to disturb her; and descending again to the parlour he +placed the letter on the mantelpiece to give it to her in the morning. + +At eleven o'clock he went to bed himself, smoked for some time in his +bedroom, put out his light at half-past eleven, and then, as was his +invariable custom, pulled up the blind before getting into bed, that +he might see which way the wind blew on opening his eyes in the +morning, his bedroom window commanding a view of the flagstaff and +vane. Just as he had lain down he was surprised to observe the white +pole of the staff flash into existence like a streak of phosphorus +drawn downwards across the shade of night without. Only one +explanation met this--a light had been suddenly thrown upon the pole +from the direction of the house. As everybody had retired to rest the +old man felt it necessary to get out of bed, open the window softly, +and look to the right and left. Eustacia's bedroom was lighted up, +and it was the shine from her window which had lighted the pole. +Wondering what had aroused her, he remained undecided at the window, +and was thinking of fetching the letter to slip it under her door, +when he heard a slight brushing of garments on the partition dividing +his room from the passage. + +The captain concluded that Eustacia, feeling wakeful, had gone for a +book, and would have dismissed the matter as unimportant if he had not +also heard her distinctly weeping as she passed. + +"She is thinking of that husband of hers," he said to himself. "Ah, +the silly goose! she had no business to marry him. I wonder if that +letter is really his?" + +He arose, threw his boat-cloak round him, opened the door, and said, +"Eustacia!" There was no answer. "Eustacia!" he repeated louder, +"there is a letter on the mantelpiece for you." + +But no response was made to this statement save an imaginary one from +the wind, which seemed to gnaw at the corners of the house, and the +stroke of a few drops of rain upon the windows. + +He went on to the landing, and stood waiting nearly five minutes. +Still she did not return. He went back for a light, and prepared +to follow her; but first he looked into her bedroom. There, on the +outside of the quilt, was the impression of her form, showing that the +bed had not been opened; and, what was more significant, she had not +taken her candlestick downstairs. He was now thoroughly alarmed; and +hastily putting on his clothes he descended to the front door, which +he himself had bolted and locked. It was now unfastened. There was no +longer any doubt that Eustacia had left the house at this midnight +hour; and whither could she have gone? To follow her was almost +impossible. Had the dwelling stood in an ordinary road, two persons +setting out, one in each direction, might have made sure of overtaking +her; but it was a hopeless task to seek for anybody on a heath in the +dark, the practicable directions for flight across it from any point +being as numerous as the meridians radiating from the pole. Perplexed +what to do, he looked into the parlour, and was vexed to find that the +letter still lay there untouched. + + + +At half-past eleven, finding that the house was silent, Eustacia had +lighted her candle, put on some warm outer wrappings, taken her bag in +her hand, and, extinguishing the light again, descended the staircase. +When she got into the outer air she found that it had begun to rain, +and as she stood pausing at the door it increased, threatening to come +on heavily. But having committed herself to this line of action there +was no retreating for bad weather. Even the receipt of Clym's letter +would not have stopped her now. The gloom of the night was funereal; +all nature seemed clothed in crape. The spiky points of the fir trees +behind the house rose into the sky like the turrets and pinnacles of +an abbey. Nothing below the horizon was visible save a light which +was still burning in the cottage of Susan Nunsuch. + +Eustacia opened her umbrella and went out from the enclosure by +the steps over the bank, after which she was beyond all danger of +being perceived. Skirting the pool, she followed the path towards +Rainbarrow, occasionally stumbling over twisted furze-roots, tufts +of rushes, or oozing lumps of fleshy fungi, which at this season lay +scattered about the heath like the rotten liver and lungs of some +colossal animal. The moon and stars were closed up by cloud and rain +to the degree of extinction. It was a night which led the traveller's +thoughts instinctively to dwell on nocturnal scenes of disaster in the +chronicles of the world, on all that is terrible and dark in history +and legend--the last plague of Egypt, the destruction of Sennacherib's +host, the agony in Gethsemane. + +Eustacia at length reached Rainbarrow, and stood still there to think. +Never was harmony more perfect than that between the chaos of her mind +and the chaos of the world without. A sudden recollection had flashed +on her this moment: she had not money enough for undertaking a long +journey. Amid the fluctuating sentiments of the day her unpractical +mind had not dwelt on the necessity of being well-provided, and now +that she thoroughly realized the condition she sighed bitterly and +ceased to stand erect, gradually crouching down under the umbrella as +if she were drawn into the Barrow by a hand from beneath. Could it +be that she was to remain a captive still? Money: she had never felt +its value before. Even to efface herself from the country means were +required. To ask Wildeve for pecuniary aid without allowing him to +accompany her was impossible to a woman with a shadow of pride left in +her; to fly as his mistress--and she knew that he loved her--was of +the nature of humiliation. + +Anyone who had stood by now would have pitied her, not so much on +account of her exposure to weather, and isolation from all of humanity +except the mouldered remains inside the tumulus; but for that other +form of misery which was denoted by the slightly rocking movement +that her feelings imparted to her person. Extreme unhappiness weighed +visibly upon her. Between the drippings of the rain from her umbrella +to her mantle, from her mantle to the heather, from the heather to +the earth, very similar sounds could be heard coming from her lips; +and the tearfulness of the outer scene was repeated upon her face. +The wings of her soul were broken by the cruel obstructiveness of all +about her; and even had she seen herself in a promising way of getting +to Budmouth, entering a steamer, and sailing to some opposite port, +she would have been but little more buoyant, so fearfully malignant +were other things. She uttered words aloud. When a woman in such +a situation, neither old, deaf, crazed, nor whimsical, takes upon +herself to sob and soliloquize aloud there is something grievous the +matter. + +"Can I go, can I go?" she moaned. "He's not GREAT enough for me to +give myself to--he does not suffice for my desire!... If he had been +a Saul or a Buonaparte--ah! But to break my marriage vow for him--it +is too poor a luxury!... And I have no money to go alone! And if +I could, what comfort to me? I must drag on next year, as I have +dragged on this year, and the year after that as before. How I have +tried and tried to be a splendid woman, and how destiny has been +against me!... I do not deserve my lot!" she cried in a frenzy of +bitter revolt. "O, the cruelty of putting me into this ill-conceived +world! I was capable of much; but I have been injured and blighted +and crushed by things beyond my control! O, how hard it is of Heaven +to devise such tortures for me, who have done no harm to Heaven at +all!" + + + +The distant light which Eustacia had cursorily observed in leaving +the house came, as she had divined, from the cottage window of Susan +Nunsuch. What Eustacia did not divine was the occupation of the woman +within at that moment. Susan's sight of her passing figure earlier +in the evening, not five minutes after the sick boy's exclamation, +"Mother, I do feel so bad!" persuaded the matron that an evil +influence was certainly exercised by Eustacia's propinquity. + +On this account Susan did not go to bed as soon as the evening's work +was over, as she would have done at ordinary times. To counteract +the malign spell which she imagined poor Eustacia to be working, the +boy's mother busied herself with a ghastly invention of superstition, +calculated to bring powerlessness, atrophy, and annihilation on any +human being against whom it was directed. It was a practice well +known on Egdon at that date, and one that is not quite extinct at the +present day. + +She passed with her candle into an inner room, where, among other +utensils, were two large brown pans, containing together perhaps a +hundredweight of liquid honey, the produce of the bees during the +foregoing summer. On a shelf over the pans was a smooth and solid +yellow mass of a hemispherical form, consisting of beeswax from the +same take of honey. Susan took down the lump, and cutting off several +thin slices, heaped them in an iron ladle, with which she returned +to the living-room, and placed the vessel in the hot ashes of the +fireplace. As soon as the wax had softened to the plasticity of dough +she kneaded the pieces together. And now her face became more intent. +She began moulding the wax; and it was evident from her manner of +manipulation that she was endeavouring to give it some preconceived +form. The form was human. + +By warming and kneading, cutting and twisting, dismembering and +re-joining the incipient image she had in about a quarter of an hour +produced a shape which tolerably well resembled a woman, and was +about six inches high. She laid it on the table to get cold and hard. +Meanwhile she took the candle and went upstairs to where the little +boy was lying. + +"Did you notice, my dear, what Mrs. Eustacia wore this afternoon +besides the dark dress?" + +"A red ribbon round her neck." + +"Anything else?" + +"No--except sandal-shoes." + +"A red ribbon and sandal-shoes," she said to herself. + +Mrs. Nunsuch went and searched till she found a fragment of the +narrowest red ribbon, which she took downstairs and tied round the +neck of the image. Then fetching ink and a quill from the rickety +bureau by the window, she blackened the feet of the image to the +extent presumably covered by shoes; and on the instep of each foot +marked cross-lines in the shape taken by the sandal-strings of those +days. Finally she tied a bit of black thread round the upper part of +the head, in faint resemblance to a snood worn for confining the hair. + +Susan held the object at arm's length and contemplated it with a +satisfaction in which there was no smile. To anybody acquainted with +the inhabitants of Egdon Heath the image would have suggested Eustacia +Yeobright. + +From her work-basket in the window-seat the woman took a paper of +pins, of the old long and yellow sort whose heads were disposed +to come off at their first usage. These she began to thrust into +the image in all directions, with apparently excruciating energy. +Probably as many as fifty were thus inserted, some into the head of +the wax model, some into the shoulders, some into the trunk, some +upwards through the soles of the feet, till the figure was completely +permeated with pins. + +She turned to the fire. It had been of turf; and though the high heap +of ashes which turf fires produce was somewhat dark and dead on the +outside, upon raking it abroad with the shovel the inside of the mass +showed a glow of red heat. She took a few pieces of fresh turf from +the chimney-corner and built them together over the glow, upon which +the fire brightened. Seizing with the tongs the image that she had +made of Eustacia, she held it in the heat, and watched it as it began +to waste slowly away. And while she stood thus engaged there came +from between her lips a murmur of words. + +It was a strange jargon--the Lord's Prayer repeated backwards--the +incantation usual in proceedings for obtaining unhallowed assistance +against an enemy. Susan uttered the lugubrious discourse three +times slowly, and when it was completed the image had considerably +diminished. As the wax dropped into the fire a long flame arose from +the spot, and curling its tongue round the figure ate still further +into its substance. A pin occasionally dropped with the wax, and the +embers heated it red as it lay. + + + + +VIII + +Rain, Darkness, and Anxious Wanderers + + +While the effigy of Eustacia was melting to nothing, and the fair +woman herself was standing on Rainbarrow, her soul in an abyss of +desolation seldom plumbed by one so young, Yeobright sat lonely at +Blooms-End. He had fulfilled his word to Thomasin by sending off +Fairway with the letter to his wife, and now waited with increased +impatience for some sound or signal of her return. Were Eustacia +still at Mistover the very least he expected was that she would send +him back a reply tonight by the same hand; though, to leave all to her +inclination, he had cautioned Fairway not to ask for an answer. If +one were handed to him he was to bring it immediately; if not, he was +to go straight home without troubling to come round to Blooms-End +again that night. + +But secretly Clym had a more pleasing hope. Eustacia might possibly +decline to use her pen--it was rather her way to work silently--and +surprise him by appearing at his door. How fully her mind was made up +to do otherwise he did not know. + +To Clym's regret it began to rain and blow hard as the evening +advanced. The wind rasped and scraped at the corners of the house, +and filliped the eavesdroppings like peas against the panes. He +walked restlessly about the untenanted rooms, stopping strange noises +in windows and doors by jamming splinters of wood into the casements +and crevices, and pressing together the lead-work of the quarries +where it had become loosened from the glass. It was one of those +nights when cracks in the walls of old churches widen, when ancient +stains on the ceilings of decayed manor houses are renewed and +enlarged from the size of a man's hand to an area of many feet. The +little gate in the palings before his dwelling continually opened and +clicked together again, but when he looked out eagerly nobody was +there; it was as if invisible shapes of the dead were passing in on +their way to visit him. + +Between ten and eleven o'clock, finding that neither Fairway nor +anybody else came to him, he retired to rest, and despite his +anxieties soon fell asleep. His sleep, however, was not very sound, +by reason of the expectancy he had given way to, and he was easily +awakened by a knocking which began at the door about an hour after. +Clym arose and looked out of the window. Rain was still falling +heavily, the whole expanse of heath before him emitting a subdued +hiss under the downpour. It was too dark to see anything at all. + +"Who's there?" he cried. + +Light footsteps shifted their position in the porch, and he could just +distinguish in a plaintive female voice the words, "O Clym, come down +and let me in!" + +He flushed hot with agitation. "Surely it is Eustacia!" he murmured. +If so, she had indeed come to him unawares. + +He hastily got a light, dressed himself, and went down. On his +flinging open the door the rays of the candle fell upon a woman +closely wrapped up, who at once came forward. + +"Thomasin!" he exclaimed in an indescribable tone of disappointment. +"It is Thomasin, and on such a night as this! O, where is Eustacia?" + +Thomasin it was, wet, frightened, and panting. + +"Eustacia? I don't know, Clym; but I can think," she said with much +perturbation. "Let me come in and rest--I will explain this. There +is a great trouble brewing--my husband and Eustacia!" + +"What, what?" + +"I think my husband is going to leave me or do something dreadful--I +don't know what--Clym, will you go and see? I have nobody to help me +but you! Eustacia has not yet come home?" + +"No." + +She went on breathlessly: "Then they are going to run off together! He +came indoors tonight about eight o'clock and said in an off-hand way, +'Tamsie, I have just found that I must go a journey.' 'When?' I said. +'Tonight,' he said. 'Where?' I asked him. 'I cannot tell you at +present,' he said; 'I shall be back again tomorrow.' He then went and +busied himself in looking up his things, and took no notice of me at +all. I expected to see him start, but he did not, and then it came to +be ten o'clock, when he said, 'You had better go to bed.' I didn't +know what to do, and I went to bed. I believe he thought I fell +asleep, for half an hour after that he came up and unlocked the oak +chest we keep money in when we have much in the house and took out a +roll of something which I believe was bank-notes, though I was not +aware that he had 'em there. These he must have got from the bank +when he went there the other day. What does he want bank-notes for, +if he is only going off for a day? When he had gone down I thought of +Eustacia, and how he had met her the night before--I know he did meet +her, Clym, for I followed him part of the way; but I did not like to +tell you when you called, and so make you think ill of him, as I did +not think it was so serious. Then I could not stay in bed; I got up +and dressed myself, and when I heard him out in the stable I thought +I would come and tell you. So I came downstairs without any noise and +slipped out." + +"Then he was not absolutely gone when you left?" + +"No. Will you, dear Cousin Clym, go and try to persuade him not to go? +He takes no notice of what I say, and puts me off with the story of +his going on a journey, and will be home tomorrow, and all that; but I +don't believe it. I think you could influence him." + +"I'll go," said Clym. "O, Eustacia!" + +Thomasin carried in her arms a large bundle; and having by this time +seated herself she began to unroll it, when a baby appeared as the +kernel to the husks--dry, warm, and unconscious of travel or rough +weather. Thomasin briefly kissed the baby, and then found time to +begin crying as she said, "I brought baby, for I was afraid what might +happen to her. I suppose it will be her death, but I couldn't leave +her with Rachel!" + +Clym hastily put together the logs on the hearth, raked abroad the +embers, which were scarcely yet extinct, and blew up a flame with the +bellows. + +"Dry yourself," he said. "I'll go and get some more wood." + +"No, no--don't stay for that. I'll make up the fire. Will you go at +once--please will you?" + +Yeobright ran upstairs to finish dressing himself. While he was gone +another rapping came to the door. This time there was no delusion +that it might be Eustacia's: the footsteps just preceding it had been +heavy and slow. Yeobright thinking it might possibly be Fairway with +a note in answer, descended again and opened the door. + +"Captain Vye?" he said to a dripping figure. + +"Is my granddaughter here?" said the captain. + +"No." + +"Then where is she?". + +"I don't know." + +"But you ought to know--you are her husband." + +"Only in name apparently," said Clym with rising excitement. "I +believe she means to elope tonight with Wildeve. I am just going to +look to it." + +"Well, she has left my house; she left about half an hour ago. Who's +sitting there?" + +"My cousin Thomasin." + +The captain bowed in a preoccupied way to her. "I only hope it is no +worse than an elopement," he said. + +"Worse? What's worse than the worst a wife can do?" + +"Well, I have been told a strange tale. Before starting in search of +her I called up Charley, my stable lad. I missed my pistols the other +day." + +"Pistols?" + +"He said at the time that he took them down to clean. He has now +owned that he took them because he saw Eustacia looking curiously at +them; and she afterwards owned to him that she was thinking of taking +her life, but bound him to secrecy, and promised never to think of +such a thing again. I hardly suppose she will ever have bravado +enough to use one of them; but it shows what has been lurking in her +mind; and people who think of that sort of thing once think of it +again." + +"Where are the pistols?" + +"Safely locked up. O no, she won't touch them again. But there are +more ways of letting out life than through a bullet-hole. What did +you quarrel about so bitterly with her to drive her to all this? You +must have treated her badly indeed. Well, I was always against the +marriage, and I was right." + +"Are you going with me?" said Yeobright, paying no attention to the +captain's latter remark. "If so I can tell you what we quarrelled +about as we walk along." + +"Where to?" + +"To Wildeve's--that was her destination, depend upon it." + +Thomasin here broke in, still weeping: "He said he was only going on +a sudden short journey; but if so why did he want so much money? O, +Clym, what do you think will happen? I am afraid that you, my poor +baby, will soon have no father left to you!" + +"I am off now," said Yeobright, stepping into the porch. + +"I would fain go with 'ee," said the old man doubtfully. "But I begin +to be afraid that my legs will hardly carry me there such a night as +this. I am not so young as I was. If they are interrupted in their +flight she will be sure to come back to me, and I ought to be at the +house to receive her. But be it as 'twill I can't walk to the Quiet +Woman, and that's an end on't. I'll go straight home." + +"It will perhaps be best," said Clym. "Thomasin, dry yourself, and be +as comfortable as you can." + +With this he closed the door upon her, and left the house in company +with Captain Vye, who parted from him outside the gate, taking the +middle path, which led to Mistover. Clym crossed by the right-hand +track towards the inn. + +Thomasin, being left alone, took off some of her wet garments, +carried the baby upstairs to Clym's bed, and then came down to the +sitting-room again, where she made a larger fire, and began drying +herself. The fire soon flared up the chimney, giving the room an +appearance of comfort that was doubled by contrast with the drumming +of the storm without, which snapped at the window-panes and breathed +into the chimney strange low utterances that seemed to be the prologue +to some tragedy. + +But the least part of Thomasin was in the house, for her heart being +at ease about the little girl upstairs she was mentally following Clym +on his journey. Having indulged in this imaginary peregrination for +some considerable interval, she became impressed with a sense of the +intolerable slowness of time. But she sat on. The moment then came +when she could scarcely sit longer; and it was like a satire on her +patience to remember that Clym could hardly have reached the inn as +yet. At last she went to the baby's bedside. The child was sleeping +soundly; but her imagination of possibly disastrous events at her +home, the predominance within her of the unseen over the seen, +agitated her beyond endurance. She could not refrain from going down +and opening the door. The rain still continued, the candlelight +falling upon the nearest drops and making glistening darts of them as +they descended across the throng of invisible ones behind. To plunge +into that medium was to plunge into water slightly diluted with air. +But the difficulty of returning to her house at this moment made her +all the more desirous of doing so: anything was better than suspense. +"I have come here well enough," she said, "and why shouldn't I go back +again? It is a mistake for me to be away." + +She hastily fetched the infant, wrapped it up, cloaked herself as +before, and shoveling the ashes over the fire, to prevent accidents, +went into the open air. Pausing first to put the door key in its +old place behind the shutter, she resolutely turned her face to the +confronting pile of firmamental darkness beyond the palings, and +stepped into its midst. But Thomasin's imagination being so actively +engaged elsewhere, the night and the weather had for her no terror +beyond that of their actual discomfort and difficulty. + + + +She was soon ascending Blooms-End valley and traversing the +undulations on the side of the hill. The noise of the wind over the +heath was shrill, and as if it whistled for joy at finding a night +so congenial as this. Sometimes the path led her to hollows between +thickets of tall and dripping bracken, dead, though not yet prostrate, +which enclosed her like a pool. When they were more than usually tall +she lifted the baby to the top of her head, that it might be out of +the reach of their drenching fronds. On higher ground, where the wind +was brisk and sustained, the rain flew in a level flight without +sensible descent, so that it was beyond all power to imagine the +remoteness of the point at which it left the bosoms of the clouds. +Here self-defence was impossible, and individual drops stuck into +her like the arrows into Saint Sebastian. She was enabled to avoid +puddles by the nebulous paleness which signified their presence, +though beside anything less dark than the heath they themselves would +have appeared as blackness. + +Yet in spite of all this Thomasin was not sorry that she had started. +To her there were not, as to Eustacia, demons in the air, and malice +in every bush and bough. The drops which lashed her face were not +scorpions, but prosy rain; Egdon in the mass was no monster whatever, +but impersonal open ground. Her fears of the place were rational, +her dislikes of its worst moods reasonable. At this time it was in +her view a windy, wet place, in which a person might experience much +discomfort, lose the path without care, and possibly catch cold. + +If the path is well known the difficulty at such times of keeping +therein is not altogether great, from its familiar feel to the feet; +but once lost it is irrecoverable. Owing to her baby, who somewhat +impeded Thomasin's view forward and distracted her mind, she did at +last lose the track. This mishap occurred when she was descending an +open slope about two-thirds home. Instead of attempting, by wandering +hither and thither, the hopeless task of finding such a mere thread, +she went straight on, trusting for guidance to her general knowledge +of the contours, which was scarcely surpassed by Clym's or by that of +the heath-croppers themselves. + +At length Thomasin reached a hollow and began to discern through the +rain a faint blotted radiance, which presently assumed the oblong form +of an open door. She knew that no house stood hereabouts, and was +soon aware of the nature of the door by its height above the ground. + +"Why, it is Diggory Venn's van, surely!" she said. + +A certain secluded spot near Rainbarrow was, she knew, often Venn's +chosen centre when staying in this neighbourhood; and she guessed at +once that she had stumbled upon this mysterious retreat. The question +arose in her mind whether or not she should ask him to guide her into +the path. In her anxiety to reach home she decided that she would +appeal to him, notwithstanding the strangeness of appearing before +his eyes at this place and season. But when, in pursuance of this +resolve, Thomasin reached the van and looked in she found it to be +untenanted; though there was no doubt that it was the reddleman's. +The fire was burning in the stove, the lantern hung from the nail. +Round the doorway the floor was merely sprinkled with rain, and not +saturated, which told her that the door had not long been opened. + +While she stood uncertainly looking in Thomasin heard a footstep +advancing from the darkness behind her, and turning, beheld the +well-known form in corduroy, lurid from head to foot, the lantern +beams falling upon him through an intervening gauze of raindrops. + +"I thought you went down the slope," he said, without noticing her +face. "How do you come back here again?" + +"Diggory?" said Thomasin faintly. + +"Who are you?" said Venn, still unperceiving. "And why were you +crying so just now?" + +"O, Diggory! don't you know me?" said she. "But of course you don't, +wrapped up like this. What do you mean? I have not been crying here, +and I have not been here before." + +Venn then came nearer till he could see the illuminated side of her +form. + +"Mrs. Wildeve!" he exclaimed, starting. "What a time for us to meet! +And the baby too! What dreadful thing can have brought you out on such +a night as this?" + +She could not immediately answer; and without asking her permission he +hopped into his van, took her by the arm, and drew her up after him. + +"What is it?" he continued when they stood within. + +"I have lost my way coming from Blooms-End, and I am in a great hurry +to get home. Please show me as quickly as you can! It is so silly of +me not to know Egdon better, and I cannot think how I came to lose the +path. Show me quickly, Diggory, please." + +"Yes, of course. I will go with 'ee. But you came to me before this, +Mrs. Wildeve?" + +"I only came this minute." + +"That's strange. I was lying down here asleep about five minutes ago, +with the door shut to keep out the weather, when the brushing of a +woman's clothes over the heath-bushes just outside woke me up (for I +don't sleep heavy), and at the same time I heard a sobbing or crying +from the same woman. I opened my door and held out my lantern, and +just as far as the light would reach I saw a woman: she turned her +head when the light sheened on her, and then hurried on downhill. I +hung up the lantern, and was curious enough to pull on my things and +dog her a few steps, but I could see nothing of her any more. That +was where I had been when you came up; and when I saw you I thought +you were the same one." + +"Perhaps it was one of the heath-folk going home?" + +"No, it couldn't be. 'Tis too late. The noise of her gown over the +he'th was of a whistling sort that nothing but silk will make." + +"It wasn't I, then. My dress is not silk, you see... Are we anywhere +in a line between Mistover and the inn?" + +"Well, yes; not far out." + +"Ah, I wonder if it was she! Diggory, I must go at once!" + +She jumped down from the van before he was aware, when Venn unhooked +the lantern and leaped down after her. "I'll take the baby, ma'am," +he said. "You must be tired out by the weight." + +Thomasin hesitated a moment, and then delivered the baby into Venn's +hands. "Don't squeeze her, Diggory," she said, "or hurt her little +arm; and keep the cloak close over her like this, so that the rain may +not drop in her face." + +"I will," said Venn earnestly. "As if I could hurt anything belonging +to you!" + +"I only meant accidentally," said Thomasin. + +"The baby is dry enough, but you are pretty wet," said the reddleman +when, in closing the door of his cart to padlock it, he noticed on the +floor a ring of water drops where her cloak had hung from her. + +Thomasin followed him as he wound right and left to avoid the larger +bushes, stopping occasionally and covering the lantern, while he +looked over his shoulder to gain some idea of the position of +Rainbarrow above them, which it was necessary to keep directly behind +their backs to preserve a proper course. + +"You are sure the rain does not fall upon baby?" + +"Quite sure. May I ask how old he is, ma'am?" + +"He!" said Thomasin reproachfully. "Anybody can see better than that +in a moment. She is nearly two months old. How far is it now to the +inn?" + +"A little over a quarter of a mile." + +"Will you walk a little faster?" + +"I was afraid you could not keep up." + +"I am very anxious to get there. Ah, there is a light from the +window!" + +"'Tis not from the window. That's a gig-lamp, to the best of my +belief." + +"O!" said Thomasin in despair. "I wish I had been there sooner--give +me the baby, Diggory--you can go back now." + +"I must go all the way," said Venn. "There is a quag between us and +that light, and you will walk into it up to your neck unless I take +you round." + +"But the light is at the inn, and there is no quag in front of that." + +"No, the light is below the inn some two or three hundred yards." + +"Never mind," said Thomasin hurriedly. "Go towards the light, and not +towards the inn." + +"Yes," answered Venn, swerving round in obedience; and, after a pause, +"I wish you would tell me what this great trouble is. I think you +have proved that I can be trusted." + +"There are some things that cannot be--cannot be told to--" And then +her heart rose into her throat, and she could say no more. + + + + +IX + +Sights and Sounds Draw the Wanderers Together + + +Having seen Eustacia's signal from the hill at eight o'clock, Wildeve +immediately prepared to assist her in her flight, and, as he hoped, +accompany her. He was somewhat perturbed, and his manner of informing +Thomasin that he was going on a journey was in itself sufficient to +rouse her suspicions. When she had gone to bed he collected the few +articles he would require, and went upstairs to the money-chest, +whence he took a tolerably bountiful sum in notes, which had been +advanced to him on the property he was so soon to have in possession, +to defray expenses incidental to the removal. + +He then went to the stable and coach-house to assure himself that the +horse, gig, and harness were in a fit condition for a long drive. +Nearly half an hour was spent thus, and on returning to the house +Wildeve had no thought of Thomasin being anywhere but in bed. He had +told the stable-lad not to stay up, leading the boy to understand that +his departure would be at three or four in the morning; for this, +though an exceptional hour, was less strange than midnight, the time +actually agreed on, the packet from Budmouth sailing between one and +two. + +At last all was quiet, and he had nothing to do but to wait. By no +effort could he shake off the oppression of spirits which he had +experienced ever since his last meeting with Eustacia, but he hoped +there was that in his situation which money could cure. He had +persuaded himself that to act not ungenerously towards his gentle +wife by settling on her the half of his property, and with chivalrous +devotion towards another and greater woman by sharing her fate, was +possible. And though he meant to adhere to Eustacia's instructions to +the letter, to deposit her where she wished and to leave her, should +that be her will, the spell that she had cast over him intensified, +and his heart was beating fast in the anticipated futility of such +commands in the face of a mutual wish that they should throw in their +lot together. + +He would not allow himself to dwell long upon these conjectures, +maxims, and hopes, and at twenty minutes to twelve he again went +softly to the stable, harnessed the horse, and lit the lamps; whence, +taking the horse by the head, he led him with the covered car out of +the yard to a spot by the roadside some quarter of a mile below the +inn. + +Here Wildeve waited, slightly sheltered from the driving rain by a +high bank that had been cast up at this place. Along the surface of +the road where lit by the lamps the loosened gravel and small stones +scudded and clicked together before the wind, which, leaving them +in heaps, plunged into the heath and boomed across the bushes into +darkness. Only one sound rose above this din of weather, and that was +the roaring of a ten-hatch weir to the southward, from a river in the +meads which formed the boundary of the heath in this direction. + +He lingered on in perfect stillness till he began to fancy that the +midnight hour must have struck. A very strong doubt had arisen in his +mind if Eustacia would venture down the hill in such weather; yet +knowing her nature he felt that she might. "Poor thing! 'tis like her +ill-luck," he murmured. + +At length he turned to the lamp and looked at his watch. To his +surprise it was nearly a quarter past midnight. He now wished that he +had driven up the circuitous road to Mistover, a plan not adopted +because of the enormous length of the route in proportion to that +of the pedestrian's path down the open hillside, and the consequent +increase of labour for the horse. + +At this moment a footstep approached; but the light of the lamps being +in a different direction the comer was not visible. The step paused, +then came on again. + +"Eustacia?" said Wildeve. + +The person came forward, and the light fell upon the form of Clym, +glistening with wet, whom Wildeve immediately recognized; but Wildeve, +who stood behind the lamp, was not at once recognized by Yeobright. + +He stopped as if in doubt whether this waiting vehicle could have +anything to do with the flight of his wife or not. The sight of +Yeobright at once banished Wildeve's sober feelings, who saw him again +as the deadly rival from whom Eustacia was to be kept at all hazards. +Hence Wildeve did not speak, in the hope that Clym would pass by +without particular inquiry. + +While they both hung thus in hesitation a dull sound became audible +above the storm and wind. Its origin was unmistakable--it was the +fall of a body into the stream in the adjoining mead, apparently at +a point near the weir. + +Both started. "Good God! can it be she?" said Clym. + +"Why should it be she?" said Wildeve, in his alarm forgetting that he +had hitherto screened himself. + +"Ah!--that's you, you traitor, is it?" cried Yeobright. "Why should +it be she? Because last week she would have put an end to her life if +she had been able. She ought to have been watched! Take one of the +lamps and come with me." + +Yeobright seized the one on his side and hastened on; Wildeve did +not wait to unfasten the other, but followed at once along the +meadow-track to the weir, a little in the rear of Clym. + +Shadwater Weir had at its foot a large circular pool, fifty feet in +diameter, into which the water flowed through ten huge hatches, raised +and lowered by a winch and cogs in the ordinary manner. The sides of +the pool were of masonry, to prevent the water from washing away the +bank; but the force of the stream in winter was sometimes such as +to undermine the retaining wall and precipitate it into the hole. +Clym reached the hatches, the framework of which was shaken to its +foundations by the velocity of the current. Nothing but the froth of +the waves could be discerned in the pool below. He got upon the plank +bridge over the race, and holding to the rail, that the wind might not +blow him off, crossed to the other side of the river. There he leant +over the wall and lowered the lamp, only to behold the vortex formed +at the curl of the returning current. + +Wildeve meanwhile had arrived on the former side, and the light from +Yeobright's lamp shed a flecked and agitated radiance across the +weir pool, revealing to the ex-engineer the tumbling courses of the +currents from the hatches above. Across this gashed and puckered +mirror a dark body was slowly borne by one of the backward currents. + +"O, my darling!" exclaimed Wildeve in an agonized voice; and, without +showing sufficient presence of mind even to throw off his greatcoat, +he leaped into the boiling caldron. + +Yeobright could now also discern the floating body, though but +indistinctly; and imagining from Wildeve's plunge that there was life +to be saved he was about to leap after. Bethinking himself of a wiser +plan he placed the lamp against a post to make it stand upright, and +running round to the lower part of the pool, where there was no wall, +he sprang in and boldly waded upwards towards the deeper portion. +Here he was taken off his legs, and in swimming was carried round into +the centre of the basin, where he perceived Wildeve struggling. + +While these hasty actions were in progress here, Venn and Thomasin had +been toiling through the lower corner of the heath in the direction +of the light. They had not been near enough to the river to hear the +plunge, but they saw the removal of the carriage-lamp, and watched its +motion into the mead. As soon as they reached the car and horse Venn +guessed that something new was amiss, and hastened to follow in the +course of the moving light. Venn walked faster than Thomasin, and +came to the weir alone. + +The lamp placed against the post by Clym still shone across the water, +and the reddleman observed something floating motionless. Being +encumbered with the infant, he ran back to meet Thomasin. + +"Take the baby, please, Mrs. Wildeve," he said hastily. "Run home +with her, call the stable-lad, and make him send down to me any men +who may be living near. Somebody has fallen into the weir." + +Thomasin took the child and ran. When she came to the covered car the +horse, though fresh from the stable, was standing perfectly still, as +if conscious of misfortune. She saw for the first time whose it was. +She nearly fainted, and would have been unable to proceed another step +but that the necessity of preserving the little girl from harm nerved +her to an amazing self-control. In this agony of suspense she entered +the house, put the baby in a place of safety, woke the lad and the +female domestic, and ran out to give the alarm at the nearest cottage. + +Diggory, having returned to the brink of the pool, observed that the +small upper hatches or floats were withdrawn. He found one of these +lying upon the grass, and taking it under one arm, and with his +lantern in his hand, entered at the bottom of the pool as Clym had +done. As soon as he began to be in deep water he flung himself across +the hatch; thus supported he was able to keep afloat as long as he +chose, holding the lantern aloft with his disengaged hand. Propelled +by his feet he steered round and round the pool, ascending each +time by one of the back streams and descending in the middle of the +current. + +At first he could see nothing. Then amidst the glistening of the +whirlpools and the white clots of foam he distinguished a woman's +bonnet floating alone. His search was now under the left wall, when +something came to the surface almost close beside him. It was not, as +he had expected, a woman, but a man. The reddleman put the ring of +the lantern between his teeth, seized the floating man by the collar, +and, holding on to the hatch with his remaining arm, struck out into +the strongest race, by which the unconscious man, the hatch, and +himself were carried down the stream. As soon as Venn found his feet +dragging over the pebbles of the shallower part below he secured his +footing and waded towards the brink. There, where the water stood at +about the height of his waist, he flung away the hatch, and attempted +to drag forth the man. This was a matter of great difficulty, and he +found as the reason that the legs of the unfortunate stranger were +tightly embraced by the arms of another man, who had hitherto been +entirely beneath the surface. + +At this moment his heart bounded to hear footsteps running towards +him, and two men, roused by Thomasin, appeared at the brink above. +They ran to where Venn was, and helped him in lifting out the +apparently drowned persons, separating them, and laying them out upon +the grass. Venn turned the light upon their faces. The one who had +been uppermost was Yeobright; he who had been completely submerged was +Wildeve. + +"Now we must search the hole again," said Venn. "A woman is in there +somewhere. Get a pole." + +One of the men went to the foot-bridge and tore off the handrail. The +reddleman and the two others then entered the water together from +below as before, and with their united force probed the pool forwards +to where it sloped down to its central depth. Venn was not mistaken +in supposing that any person who had sunk for the last time would +be washed down to this point, for when they had examined to about +half-way across something impeded their thrust. + +"Pull it forward," said Venn, and they raked it in with the pole till +it was close to their feet. + +Venn vanished under the stream, and came up with an armful of wet +drapery enclosing a woman's cold form, which was all that remained of +the desperate Eustacia. + +When they reached the bank there stood Thomasin, in a stress of grief, +bending over the two unconscious ones who already lay there. The +horse and cart were brought to the nearest point in the road, and it +was the work of a few minutes only to place the three in the vehicle. +Venn led on the horse, supporting Thomasin upon his arm, and the two +men followed, till they reached the inn. + +The woman who had been shaken out of her sleep by Thomasin had hastily +dressed herself and lighted a fire, the other servant being left to +snore on in peace at the back of the house. The insensible forms of +Eustacia, Clym, and Wildeve were then brought in and laid on the +carpet, with their feet to the fire, when such restorative processes +as could be thought of were adopted at once, the stableman being in +the meantime sent for a doctor. But there seemed to be not a whiff +of life left in either of the bodies. Then Thomasin, whose stupor of +grief had been thrust off awhile by frantic action, applied a bottle +of hartshorn to Clym's nostrils, having tried it in vain upon the +othertwo. He sighed. + +"Clym's alive!" she exclaimed. + +He soon breathed distinctly, and again and again did she attempt to +revive her husband by the same means; but Wildeve gave no sign. There +was too much reason to think that he and Eustacia both were for ever +beyond the reach of stimulating perfumes. Their exertions did not +relax till the doctor arrived, when one by one, the senseless three +were taken upstairs and put into warm beds. + +Venn soon felt himself relieved from further attendance, and went +to the door, scarcely able yet to realize the strange catastrophe +that had befallen the family in which he took so great an interest. +Thomasin surely would be broken down by the sudden and overwhelming +nature of this event. No firm and sensible Mrs. Yeobright lived now +to support the gentle girl through the ordeal; and, whatever an +unimpassioned spectator might think of her loss of such a husband +as Wildeve, there could be no doubt that for the moment she was +distracted and horrified by the blow. As for himself, not being +privileged to go to her and comfort her, he saw no reason for waiting +longer in a house where he remained only as a stranger. + +He returned across the heath to his van. The fire was not yet out, +and everything remained as he had left it. Venn now bethought himself +of his clothes, which were saturated with water to the weight of lead. +He changed them, spread them before the fire, and lay down to sleep. +But it was more than he could do to rest here while excited by a vivid +imagination of the turmoil they were in at the house he had quitted, +and, blaming himself for coming away, he dressed in another suit, +locked up the door, and again hastened across to the inn. Rain was +still falling heavily when he entered the kitchen. A bright fire was +shining from the hearth, and two women were bustling about, one of +whom was Olly Dowden. + +"Well, how is it going on now?" said Venn in a whisper. + +"Mr. Yeobright is better; but Mrs. Yeobright and Mr. Wildeve are dead +and cold. The doctor says they were quite gone before they were out +of the water." + +"Ah! I thought as much when I hauled 'em up. And Mrs. Wildeve?" + +"She is as well as can be expected. The doctor had her put between +blankets, for she was almost as wet as they that had been in the +river, poor young thing. You don't seem very dry, reddleman." + +"Oh, 'tis not much. I have changed my things. This is only a little +dampness I've got coming through the rain again." + +"Stand by the fire. Mis'ess says you be to have whatever you want, +and she was sorry when she was told that you'd gone away." + +Venn drew near to the fireplace, and looked into the flames in an +absent mood. The steam came from his leggings and ascended the +chimney with the smoke, while he thought of those who were upstairs. +Two were corpses, one had barely escaped the jaws of death, another +was sick and a widow. The last occasion on which he had lingered by +that fireplace was when the raffle was in progress; when Wildeve +was alive and well; Thomasin active and smiling in the next room; +Yeobright and Eustacia just made husband and wife, and Mrs. Yeobright +living at Blooms-End. It had seemed at that time that the then +position of affairs was good for at least twenty years to come. Yet, +of all the circle, he himself was the only one whose situation had not +materially changed. + +While he ruminated a footstep descended the stairs. It was the nurse, +who brought in her hand a rolled mass of wet paper. The woman was +so engrossed with her occupation that she hardly saw Venn. She took +from a cupboard some pieces of twine, which she strained across the +fireplace, tying the end of each piece to the firedog, previously +pulled forward for the purpose, and, unrolling the wet papers, she +began pinning them one by one to the strings in a manner of clothes +on a line. + +"What be they?" said Venn. + +"Poor master's bank-notes," she answered. "They were found in his +pocket when they undressed him." + +"Then he was not coming back again for some time?" said Venn. + +"That we shall never know," said she. + +Venn was loth to depart, for all on earth that interested him lay +under this roof. As nobody in the house had any more sleep that +night, except the two who slept for ever, there was no reason why +he should not remain. So he retired into the niche of the fireplace +where he had used to sit, and there he continued, watching the steam +from the double row of bank-notes as they waved backwards and forwards +in the draught of the chimney till their flaccidity was changed to +dry crispness throughout. Then the woman came and unpinned them, and, +folding them together, carried the handful upstairs. Presently the +doctor appeared from above with the look of a man who could do no +more, and, pulling on his gloves, went out of the house, the trotting +of his horse soon dying away upon the road. + +At four o'clock there was a gentle knock at the door. It was from +Charley, who had been sent by Captain Vye to inquire if anything had +been heard of Eustacia. The girl who admitted him looked in his face +as if she did not know what answer to return, and showed him in to +where Venn was seated, saying to the reddleman, "Will you tell him, +please?" + +Venn told. Charley's only utterance was a feeble, indistinct sound. +He stood quite still; then he burst out spasmodically, "I shall see +her once more?" + +"I dare say you may see her," said Diggory gravely. "But hadn't you +better run and tell Captain Vye?" + +"Yes, yes. Only I do hope I shall see her just once again." + +"You shall," said a low voice behind; and starting round they beheld +by the dim light a thin, pallid, almost spectral form, wrapped in a +blanket, and looking like Lazarus coming from the tomb. + +It was Yeobright. Neither Venn nor Charley spoke, and Clym continued, +"You shall see her. There will be time enough to tell the captain +when it gets daylight. You would like to see her too--would you not, +Diggory? She looks very beautiful now." + +Venn assented by rising to his feet, and with Charley he followed Clym +to the foot of the staircase, where he took off his boots; Charley +did the same. They followed Yeobright upstairs to the landing, where +there was a candle burning, which Yeobright took in his hand, and with +it led the way into an adjoining room. Here he went to the bedside +and folded back the sheet. + +They stood silently looking upon Eustacia, who, as she lay there still +in death, eclipsed all her living phases. Pallor did not include all +the quality of her complexion, which seemed more than whiteness; +it was almost light. The expression of her finely carved mouth was +pleasant, as if a sense of dignity had just compelled her to leave +off speaking. Eternal rigidity had seized upon it in a momentary +transition between fervour and resignation. Her black hair was looser +now than either of them had ever seen it before, and surrounded her +brow like a forest. The stateliness of look which had been almost +too marked for a dweller in a country domicile had at last found an +artistically happy background. + +Nobody spoke, till at length Clym covered her and turned aside. "Now +come here," he said. + +They went to a recess in the same room, and there, on a smaller bed, +lay another figure--Wildeve. Less repose was visible in his face than +in Eustacia's, but the same luminous youthfulness overspread it, and +the least sympathetic observer would have felt at sight of him now +that he was born for a higher destiny than this. The only sign upon +him of his recent struggle for life was in his finger-tips, which were +worn and sacrificed in his dying endeavours to obtain a hold on the +face of the weir-wall. + +Yeobright's manner had been so quiet, he had uttered so few syllables +since his reappearance, that Venn imagined him resigned. It was only +when they had left the room and stood upon the landing that the true +state of his mind was apparent. Here he said, with a wild smile, +inclining his head towards the chamber in which Eustacia lay, "She is +the second woman I have killed this year. I was a great cause of my +mother's death, and I am the chief cause of hers." + +"How?" said Venn. + +"I spoke cruel words to her, and she left my house. I did not invite +her back till it was too late. It is I who ought to have drowned +myself. It would have been a charity to the living had the river +overwhelmed me and borne her up. But I cannot die. Those who ought +to have lived lie dead; and here am I alive!" + +"But you can't charge yourself with crimes in that way," said Venn. +"You may as well say that the parents be the cause of a murder by the +child, for without the parents the child would never have been begot." + +"Yes, Venn, that is very true; but you don't know all the +circumstances. If it had pleased God to put an end to me it would +have been a good thing for all. But I am getting used to the horror +of my existence. They say that a time comes when men laugh at misery +through long acquaintance with it. Surely that time will soon come +to me!" + +"Your aim has always been good," said Venn. "Why should you say such +desperate things?" + +"No, they are not desperate. They are only hopeless; and my great +regret is that for what I have done no man or law can punish me!" + + + + +BOOK SIXTH +AFTERCOURSES + + +I + +The Inevitable Movement Onward + + +The story of the deaths of Eustacia and Wildeve was told throughout +Egdon, and far beyond, for many weeks and months. All the known +incidents of their love were enlarged, distorted, touched up, and +modified, till the original reality bore but a slight resemblance to +the counterfeit presentation by surrounding tongues. Yet, upon the +whole, neither the man nor the woman lost dignity by sudden death. +Misfortune had struck them gracefully, cutting off their erratic +histories with a catastrophic dash, instead of, as with many, +attenuating each life to an uninteresting meagreness, through long +years of wrinkles, neglect, and decay. + +On those most nearly concerned the effect was somewhat different. +Strangers who had heard of many such cases now merely heard of one +more; but immediately where a blow falls no previous imaginings +amount to appreciable preparation for it. The very suddenness of +her bereavement dulled, to some extent, Thomasin's feelings; yet, +irrationally enough, a consciousness that the husband she had lost +ought to have been a better man did not lessen her mourning at all. +On the contrary, this fact seemed at first to set off the dead husband +in his young wife's eyes, and to be the necessary cloud to the +rainbow. + +But the horrors of the unknown had passed. Vague misgivings about her +future as a deserted wife were at an end. The worst had once been +matter of trembling conjecture; it was now matter of reason only, +a limited badness. Her chief interest, the little Eustacia, still +remained. There was humility in her grief, no defiance in her +attitude; and when this is the case a shaken spirit is apt to be +stilled. + +Could Thomasin's mournfulness now and Eustacia's serenity during life +have been reduced to common measure, they would have touched the same +mark nearly. But Thomasin's former brightness made shadow of that +which in a sombre atmosphere was light itself. + +The spring came and calmed her; the summer came and soothed her; the +autumn arrived, and she began to be comforted, for her little girl was +strong and happy, growing in size and knowledge every day. Outward +events flattered Thomasin not a little. Wildeve had died intestate, +and she and the child were his only relatives. When administration +had been granted, all the debts paid, and the residue of her husband's +uncle's property had come into her hands, it was found that the sum +waiting to be invested for her own and the child's benefit was little +less than ten thousand pounds. + +Where should she live? The obvious place was Blooms-End. The old +rooms, it is true, were not much higher than the between-decks of a +frigate, necessitating a sinking in the floor under the new clock-case +she brought from the inn, and the removal of the handsome brass knobs +on its head, before there was height for it to stand; but, such as the +rooms were, there were plenty of them, and the place was endeared to +her by every early recollection. Clym very gladly admitted her as a +tenant, confining his own existence to two rooms at the top of the +back staircase, where he lived on quietly, shut off from Thomasin and +the three servants she had thought fit to indulge in now that she +was a mistress of money, going his own ways, and thinking his own +thoughts. + +His sorrows had made some change in his outward appearance; and yet +the alteration was chiefly within. It might have been said that he +had a wrinkled mind. He had no enemies, and he could get nobody to +reproach him, which was why he so bitterly reproached himself. + +He did sometimes think he had been ill-used by fortune, so far as +to say that to be born is a palpable dilemma, and that instead of +men aiming to advance in life with glory they should calculate how +to retreat out of it without shame. But that he and his had been +sarcastically and pitilessly handled in having such irons thrust into +their souls he did not maintain long. It is usually so, except with +the sternest of men. Human beings, in their generous endeavour to +construct a hypothesis that shall not degrade a First Cause, have +always hesitated to conceive a dominant power of lower moral quality +than their own; and, even while they sit down and weep by the waters +of Babylon, invent excuses for the oppression which prompts their +tears. + +Thus, though words of solace were vainly uttered in his presence, he +found relief in a direction of his own choosing when left to himself. +For a man of his habits the house and the hundred and twenty pounds a +year which he had inherited from his mother were enough to supply all +worldly needs. Resources do not depend upon gross amounts, but upon +the proportion of spendings to takings. + +He frequently walked the heath alone, when the past seized upon +him with its shadowy hand, and held him there to listen to its +tale. His imagination would then people the spot with its ancient +inhabitants: forgotten Celtic tribes trod their tracks about him, +and he could almost live among them, look in their faces, and see +them standing beside the barrows which swelled around, untouched +and perfect as at the time of their erection. Those of the dyed +barbarians who had chosen the cultivable tracts were, in comparison +with those who had left their marks here, as writers on paper beside +writers on parchment. Their records had perished long ago by the +plough, while the works of these remained. Yet they all had lived +and died unconscious of the different fates awaiting their relics. +It reminded him that unforeseen factors operate in the evolution of +immortality. + +Winter again came round, with its winds, frosts, tame robins, and +sparkling starlight. The year previous Thomasin had hardly been +conscious of the season's advance; this year she laid her heart open +to external influences of every kind. The life of this sweet cousin, +her baby, and her servants, came to Clym's senses only in the form of +sounds through a wood partition as he sat over books of exceptionally +large type; but his ear became at last so accustomed to these slight +noises from the other part of the house that he almost could witness +the scenes they signified. A faint beat of half-seconds conjured up +Thomasin rocking the cradle, a wavering hum meant that she was singing +the baby to sleep, a crunching of sand as between millstones raised +the picture of Humphrey's, Fairway's, or Sam's heavy feet crossing the +stone floor of the kitchen; a light boyish step, and a gay tune in a +high key, betokened a visit from Grandfer Cantle; a sudden break-off +in the Grandfer's utterances implied the application to his lips of a +mug of small beer, a bustling and slamming of doors meant starting to +go to market; for Thomasin, in spite of her added scope of gentility, +led a ludicrously narrow life, to the end that she might save every +possible pound for her little daughter. + +One summer day Clym was in the garden, immediately outside the parlour +window, which was as usual open. He was looking at the pot-flowers on +the sill; they had been revived and restored by Thomasin to the state +in which his mother had left them. He heard a slight scream from +Thomasin, who was sitting inside the room. + +"O, how you frightened me!" she said to some one who had entered. "I +thought you were the ghost of yourself." + +Clym was curious enough to advance a little further and look in at the +window. To his astonishment there stood within the room Diggory Venn, +no longer a reddleman, but exhibiting the strangely altered hues of +an ordinary Christian countenance, white shirt-front, light flowered +waistcoat, blue-spotted neckerchief, and bottle-green coat. Nothing +in this appearance was at all singular but the fact of its great +difference from what he had formerly been. Red, and all approach to +red, was carefully excluded from every article of clothes upon him; +for what is there that persons just out of harness dread so much as +reminders of the trade which has enriched them? + +Yeobright went round to the door and entered. + +"I was so alarmed!" said Thomasin, smiling from one to the other. "I +couldn't believe that he had got white of his own accord! It seemed +supernatural." + +"I gave up dealing in reddle last Christmas," said Venn. "It was a +profitable trade, and I found that by that time I had made enough to +take the dairy of fifty cows that my father had in his lifetime. I +always thought of getting to that place again if I changed at all, and +now I am there." + +"How did you manage to become white, Diggory?" Thomasin asked. + +"I turned so by degrees, ma'am." + +"You look much better than ever you did before." + +Venn appeared confused; and Thomasin, seeing how inadvertently she +had spoken to a man who might possibly have tender feelings for +her still, blushed a little. Clym saw nothing of this, and added +good-humouredly-- + +"What shall we have to frighten Thomasin's baby with, now you have +become a human being again?" + +"Sit down, Diggory," said Thomasin, "and stay to tea." + +Venn moved as if he would retire to the kitchen, when Thomasin said +with pleasant pertness as she went on with some sewing, "Of course +you must sit down here. And where does your fifty-cow dairy lie, Mr. +Venn?" + +"At Stickleford--about two miles to the right of Alderworth, ma'am, +where the meads begin. I have thought that if Mr. Yeobright would +like to pay me a visit sometimes he shouldn't stay away for want of +asking. I'll not bide to tea this afternoon, thank'ee, for I've got +something on hand that must be settled. 'Tis Maypole-day tomorrow, +and the Shadwater folk have clubbed with a few of your neighbours here +to have a pole just outside your palings in the heath, as it is a nice +green place." Venn waved his elbow towards the patch in front of the +house. "I have been talking to Fairway about it," he continued, "and +I said to him that before we put up the pole it would be as well to +ask Mrs. Wildeve." + +"I can say nothing against it," she answered. "Our property does not +reach an inch further than the white palings." + +"But you might not like to see a lot of folk going crazy round a +stick, under your very nose?" + +"I shall have no objection at all." + +Venn soon after went away, and in the evening Yeobright strolled as +far as Fairway's cottage. It was a lovely May sunset, and the birch +trees which grew on this margin of the vast Egdon wilderness had put +on their new leaves, delicate as butterflies' wings, and diaphanous as +amber. Beside Fairway's dwelling was an open space recessed from the +road, and here were now collected all the young people from within a +radius of a couple of miles. The pole lay with one end supported on a +trestle, and women were engaged in wreathing it from the top downwards +with wildflowers. The instincts of merry England lingered on here +with exceptional vitality, and the symbolic customs which tradition +has attached to each season of the year were yet a reality on Egdon. +Indeed, the impulses of all such outlandish hamlets are pagan +still: in these spots homage to nature, self-adoration, frantic +gaieties, fragments of Teutonic rites to divinities whose names are +forgotten, seem in some way or other to have survived mediaeval +doctrine. + +Yeobright did not interrupt the preparations, and went home again. +The next morning, when Thomasin withdrew the curtains of her bedroom +window, there stood the Maypole in the middle of the green, its top +cutting into the sky. It had sprung up in the night, or rather early +morning, like Jack's bean-stalk. She opened the casement to get a +better view of the garlands and posies that adorned it. The sweet +perfume of the flowers had already spread into the surrounding air, +which, being free from every taint, conducted to her lips a full +measure of the fragrance received from the spire of blossom in its +midst. At the top of the pole were crossed hoops decked with small +flowers; beneath these came a milk-white zone of Maybloom; then a zone +of bluebells, then of cowslips, then of lilacs, then of ragged-robins, +daffodils, and so on, till the lowest stage was reached. Thomasin +noticed all these, and was delighted that the May revel was to be so +near. + +When afternoon came people began to gather on the green, and Yeobright +was interested enough to look out upon them from the open window +of his room. Soon after this Thomasin walked out from the door +immediately below and turned her eyes up to her cousin's face. She +was dressed more gaily than Yeobright had ever seen her dressed since +the time of Wildeve's death, eighteen months before; since the day of +her marriage even she had not exhibited herself to such advantage. + +"How pretty you look today, Thomasin!" he said. "Is it because of the +Maypole?" + +"Not altogether." And then she blushed and dropped her eyes, which +he did not specially observe, though her manner seemed to him to be +rather peculiar, considering that she was only addressing himself. +Could it be possible that she had put on her summer clothes to please +him? + +He recalled her conduct towards him throughout the last few weeks, +when they had often been working together in the garden, just as they +had formerly done when they were boy and girl under his mother's eye. +What if her interest in him were not so entirely that of a relative as +it had formerly been? To Yeobright any possibility of this sort was +a serious matter; and he almost felt troubled at the thought of it. +Every pulse of loverlike feeling which had not been stilled during +Eustacia's lifetime had gone into the grave with her. His passion for +her had occurred too far on in his manhood to leave fuel enough on +hand for another fire of that sort, as may happen with more boyish +loves. Even supposing him capable of loving again, that love would be +a plant of slow and laboured growth, and in the end only small and +sickly, like an autumn-hatched bird. + +He was so distressed by this new complexity that when the enthusiastic +brass band arrived and struck up, which it did about five o'clock, +with apparently wind enough among its members to blow down his house, +he withdrew from his rooms by the back door, went down the garden, +through the gate in the hedge, and away out of sight. He could not +bear to remain in the presence of enjoyment today, though he had tried +hard. + +Nothing was seen of him for four hours. When he came back by the same +path it was dusk, and the dews were coating every green thing. The +boisterous music had ceased; but, entering the premises as he did from +behind, he could not see if the May party had all gone till he had +passed through Thomasin's division of the house to the front door. +Thomasin was standing within the porch alone. + +She looked at him reproachfully. "You went away just when it began, +Clym," she said. + +"Yes. I felt I could not join in. You went out with them, of course?" + +"No, I did not." + +"You appeared to be dressed on purpose." + +"Yes, but I could not go out alone; so many people were there. One is +there now." + +Yeobright strained his eyes across the dark-green patch beyond the +paling, and near the black form of the Maypole he discerned a shadowy +figure, sauntering idly up and down. "Who is it?" he said. + +"Mr. Venn," said Thomasin. + +"You might have asked him to come in, I think, Tamsie. He has been +very kind to you first and last." + +"I will now," she said; and, acting on the impulse, went through the +wicket to where Venn stood under the Maypole. + +"It is Mr. Venn, I think?" she inquired. + +Venn started as if he had not seen her--artful man that he was--and +said, "Yes." + +"Will you come in?" + +"I am afraid that I--" + +"I have seen you dancing this evening, and you had the very best of +the girls for your partners. Is it that you won't come in because you +wish to stand here, and think over the past hours of enjoyment?" + +"Well, that's partly it," said Mr. Venn, with ostentatious sentiment. +"But the main reason why I am biding here like this is that I want to +wait till the moon rises." + +"To see how pretty the Maypole looks in the moonlight?" + +"No. To look for a glove that was dropped by one of the maidens." + +Thomasin was speechless with surprise. That a man who had to walk +some four or five miles to his home should wait here for such a reason +pointed to only one conclusion: the man must be amazingly interested +in that glove's owner. + +"Were you dancing with her, Diggory?" she asked, in a voice which +revealed that he had made himself considerably more interesting to her +by this disclosure. + +"No," he sighed. + +"And you will not come in, then?" + +"Not tonight, thank you, ma'am." + +"Shall I lend you a lantern to look for the young person's glove, Mr. +Venn?" + +"O no; it is not necessary, Mrs. Wildeve, thank you. The moon will +rise in a few minutes." + +Thomasin went back to the porch. "Is he coming in?" said Clym, who +had been waiting where she had left him. + +"He would rather not tonight," she said, and then passed by him into +the house; whereupon Clym too retired to his own rooms. + +When Clym was gone Thomasin crept upstairs in the dark, and, just +listening by the cot, to assure herself that the child was asleep, she +went to the window, gently lifted the corner of the white curtain, +and looked out. Venn was still there. She watched the growth of +the faint radiance appearing in the sky by the eastern hill, till +presently the edge of the moon burst upwards and flooded the valley +with light. Diggory's form was now distinct on the green; he was +moving about in a bowed attitude, evidently scanning the grass for the +precious missing article, walking in zigzags right and left till he +should have passed over every foot of the ground. + +"How very ridiculous!" Thomasin murmured to herself, in a tone which +was intended to be satirical. "To think that a man should be so silly +as to go mooning about like that for a girl's glove! A respectable +dairyman, too, and a man of money as he is now. What a pity!" + +At last Venn appeared to find it; whereupon he stood up and raised +it to his lips. Then placing it in his breast-pocket--the nearest +receptacle to a man's heart permitted by modern raiment--he ascended +the valley in a mathematically direct line towards his distant home in +the meadows. + + + + +II + +Thomasin Walks in a Green Place by the Roman Road + + +Clym saw little of Thomasin for several days after this; and when they +met she was more silent than usual. At length he asked her what she +was thinking of so intently. + +"I am thoroughly perplexed," she said candidly. "I cannot for my life +think who it is that Diggory Venn is so much in love with. None of +the girls at the Maypole were good enough for him, and yet she must +have been there." + +Clym tried to imagine Venn's choice for a moment; but ceasing to be +interested in the question he went on again with his gardening. + +No clearing up of the mystery was granted her for some time. But one +afternoon Thomasin was upstairs getting ready for a walk, when she had +occasion to come to the landing and call "Rachel." Rachel was a girl +about thirteen, who carried the baby out for airings; and she came +upstairs at the call. + +"Have you seen one of my last new gloves about the house, Rachel?" +inquired Thomasin. "It is the fellow to this one." + +Rachel did not reply. + +"Why don't you answer?" said her mistress. + +"I think it is lost, ma'am." + +"Lost? Who lost it? I have never worn them but once." + +Rachel appeared as one dreadfully troubled, and at last began to cry. +"Please, ma'am, on the day of the Maypole I had none to wear, and I +seed yours on the table, and I thought I would borrow 'em. I did not +mean to hurt 'em at all, but one of them got lost. Somebody gave me +some money to buy another pair for you, but I have not been able to +go anywhere to get 'em." + +"Who's somebody?" + +"Mr. Venn." + +"Did he know it was my glove?" + +"Yes. I told him." + +Thomasin was so surprised by the explanation that she quite forgot +to lecture the girl, who glided silently away. Thomasin did not move +further than to turn her eyes upon the grass-plat where the Maypole +had stood. She remained thinking, then said to herself that she +would not go out that afternoon, but would work hard at the baby's +unfinished lovely plaid frock, cut on the cross in the newest fashion. +How she managed to work hard, and yet do no more than she had done at +the end of two hours, would have been a mystery to anyone not aware +that the recent incident was of a kind likely to divert her industry +from a manual to a mental channel. + +Next day she went her ways as usual, and continued her custom of +walking in the heath with no other companion than little Eustacia, now +of the age when it is a matter of doubt with such characters whether +they are intended to walk through the world on their hands or on their +feet; so that they get into painful complications by trying both. It +was very pleasant to Thomasin, when she had carried the child to some +lonely place, to give her a little private practice on the green turf +and shepherd's-thyme, which formed a soft mat to fall headlong upon +when equilibrium was lost. + +Once, when engaged in this system of training, and stooping to remove +bits of stick, fern-stalks, and other such fragments from the child's +path, that the journey might not be brought to an untimely end by some +insuperable barrier a quarter of an inch high, she was alarmed by +discovering that a man on horseback was almost close beside her, the +soft natural carpet having muffled the horse's tread. The rider, who +was Venn, waved his hat in the air and bowed gallantly. + +"Diggory, give me my glove," said Thomasin, whose manner it was under +any circumstances to plunge into the midst of a subject which +engrossed her. + +Venn immediately dismounted, put his hand in his breastpocket, and +handed the glove. + +"Thank you. It was very good of you to take care of it." + +"It is very good of you to say so." + +"O no. I was quite glad to find you had it. Everybody gets so +indifferent that I was surprised to know you thought of me." + +"If you had remembered what I was once you wouldn't have been +surprised." + +"Ah, no," she said quickly. "But men of your character are mostly so +independent." + +"What is my character?" he asked. + +"I don't exactly know," said Thomasin simply, "except it is to cover +up your feelings under a practical manner, and only to show them when +you are alone." + +"Ah, how do you know that?" said Venn strategically. + +"Because," said she, stopping to put the little girl, who had managed +to get herself upside down, right end up again, "because I do." + +"You mustn't judge by folks in general," said Venn. "Still I don't +know much what feelings are now-a-days. I have got so mixed up with +business of one sort and t'other that my soft sentiments are gone off +in vapour like. Yes, I am given up body and soul to the making of +money. Money is all my dream." + +"O Diggory, how wicked!" said Thomasin reproachfully, and looking at +him in exact balance between taking his words seriously and judging +them as said to tease her. + +"Yes, 'tis rather a rum course," said Venn, in the bland tone of one +comfortably resigned to sins he could no longer overcome. + +"You, who used to be so nice!" + +"Well, that's an argument I rather like, because what a man has once +been he may be again." Thomasin blushed. "Except that it is rather +harder now," Venn continued. + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Because you be richer than you were at that time." + +"O no--not much. I have made it nearly all over to the baby, as it +was my duty to do, except just enough to live on." + +"I am rather glad of that," said Venn softly, and regarding her from +the corner of his eye, "for it makes it easier for us to be friendly." + +Thomasin blushed again, and, when a few more words had been said of a +not unpleasing kind, Venn mounted his horse and rode on. + +This conversation had passed in a hollow of the heath near the old +Roman road, a place much frequented by Thomasin. And it might have +been observed that she did not in future walk that way less often from +having met Venn there now. Whether or not Venn abstained from riding +thither because he had met Thomasin in the same place might easily +have been guessed from her proceedings about two months later in the +same year. + + + + +III + +The Serious Discourse of Clym with His Cousin + + +Throughout this period Yeobright had more or less pondered on his duty +to his cousin Thomasin. He could not help feeling that it would be a +pitiful waste of sweet material if the tender-natured thing should be +doomed from this early stage of her life onwards to dribble away her +winsome qualities on lonely gorse and fern. But he felt this as an +economist merely, and not as a lover. His passion for Eustacia had +been a sort of conserve of his whole life, and he had nothing more of +that supreme quality left to bestow. So far the obvious thing was not +to entertain any idea of marriage with Thomasin, even to oblige her. + +But this was not all. Years ago there had been in his mother's mind +a great fancy about Thomasin and himself. It had not positively +amounted to a desire, but it had always been a favourite dream. That +they should be man and wife in good time, if the happiness of neither +were endangered thereby, was the fancy in question. So that what +course save one was there now left for any son who reverenced his +mother's memory as Yeobright did? It is an unfortunate fact that any +particular whim of parents, which might have been dispersed by half +an hour's conversation during their lives, becomes sublimated by +their deaths into a fiat the most absolute, with such results to +conscientious children as those parents, had they lived, would have +been the first to decry. + +Had only Yeobright's own future been involved he would have proposed +to Thomasin with a ready heart. He had nothing to lose by carrying +out a dead mother's hope. But he dreaded to contemplate Thomasin +wedded to the mere corpse of a lover that he now felt himself to be. +He had but three activities alive in him. One was his almost daily +walk to the little graveyard wherein his mother lay; another, his +just as frequent visits by night to the more distant enclosure, which +numbered his Eustacia among its dead; the third was self-preparation +for a vocation which alone seemed likely to satisfy his cravings--that +of an itinerant preacher of the eleventh commandment. It was +difficult to believe that Thomasin would be cheered by a husband with +such tendencies as these. + +Yet he resolved to ask her, and let her decide for herself. It was +even with a pleasant sense of doing his duty that he went downstairs +to her one evening for this purpose, when the sun was printing on the +valley the same long shadow of the housetop that he had seen lying +there times out of number while his mother lived. + +Thomasin was not in her room, and he found her in the front garden. +"I have long been wanting, Thomasin," he began, "to say something +about a matter that concerns both our futures." + +"And you are going to say it now?" she remarked quickly, colouring as +she met his gaze. "Do stop a minute, Clym, and let me speak first, +for oddly enough, I have been wanting to say something to you." + +"By all means say on, Tamsie." + +"I suppose nobody can overhear us?" she went on, casting her eyes +around and lowering her voice. "Well, first you will promise me +this--that you won't be angry and call me anything harsh if you +disagree with what I propose?" + +Yeobright promised, and she continued: "What I want is your advice, +for you are my relation--I mean, a sort of guardian to me--aren't you, +Clym?" + +"Well, yes, I suppose I am; a sort of guardian. In fact, I am, of +course," he said, altogether perplexed as to her drift. + +"I am thinking of marrying," she then observed blandly. "But I shall +not marry unless you assure me that you approve of such a step. Why +don't you speak?" + +"I was taken rather by surprise. But, nevertheless, I am very glad +to hear such news. I shall approve, of course, dear Tamsie. Who can +it be? I am quite at a loss to guess. No I am not--'tis the old +doctor!--not that I mean to call him old, for he is not very old after +all. Ah--I noticed when he attended you last time!" + +"No, no," she said hastily. "'Tis Mr. Venn." + +Clym's face suddenly became grave. + +"There, now, you don't like him, and I wish I hadn't mentioned him!" +she exclaimed almost petulantly. "And I shouldn't have done it, +either, only he keeps on bothering me so till I don't know what to +do!" + +Clym looked at the heath. "I like Venn well enough," he answered at +last. "He is a very honest and at the same time astute man. He is +clever too, as is proved by his having got you to favour him. But +really, Thomasin, he is not quite--" + +"Gentleman enough for me? That is just what I feel. I am sorry now +that I asked you, and I won't think any more of him. At the same time +I must marry him if I marry anybody--that I WILL say!" + +"I don't see that," said Clym, carefully concealing every clue to his +own interrupted intention, which she plainly had not guessed. "You +might marry a professional man, or somebody of that sort, by going +into the town to live and forming acquaintances there." + +"I am not fit for town life--so very rural and silly as I always have +been. Do not you yourself notice my countrified ways?" + +"Well, when I came home from Paris I did, a little; but I don't now." + +"That's because you have got countrified too. O, I couldn't live in a +street for the world! Egdon is a ridiculous old place; but I have got +used to it, and I couldn't be happy anywhere else at all." + +"Neither could I," said Clym. + +"Then how could you say that I should marry some town man? I am sure, +say what you will, that I must marry Diggory, if I marry at all. He +has been kinder to me than anybody else, and has helped me in many +ways that I don't know of!" Thomasin almost pouted now. + +"Yes, he has," said Clym in a neutral tone. "Well, I wish with all my +heart that I could say, marry him. But I cannot forget what my mother +thought on that matter, and it goes rather against me not to respect +her opinion. There is too much reason why we should do the little we +can to respect it now." + +"Very well, then," sighed Thomasin. "I will say no more." + +"But you are not bound to obey my wishes. I merely say what I think." + +"O no--I don't want to be rebellious in that way," she said sadly. "I +had no business to think of him--I ought to have thought of my family. +What dreadfully bad impulses there are in me!" Her lips trembled, and +she turned away to hide a tear. + +Clym, though vexed at what seemed her unaccountable taste, was in a +measure relieved to find that at any rate the marriage question in +relation to himself was shelved. Through several succeeding days +he saw her at different times from the window of his room moping +disconsolately about the garden. He was half angry with her for +choosing Venn; then he was grieved at having put himself in the way +of Venn's happiness, who was, after all, as honest and persevering a +young fellow as any on Egdon, since he had turned over a new leaf. +In short, Clym did not know what to do. + +When next they met she said abruptly, "He is much more respectable +now than he was then!" + +"Who? O yes--Diggory Venn." + +"Aunt only objected because he was a reddleman." + +"Well, Thomasin, perhaps I don't know all the particulars of my +mother's wish. So you had better use your own discretion." + +"You will always feel that I slighted your mother's memory." + +"No, I will not. I shall think you are convinced that, had she seen +Diggory in his present position, she would have considered him a +fitting husband for you. Now, that's my real feeling. Don't consult +me any more, but do as you like, Thomasin. I shall be content." + +It is to be supposed that Thomasin was convinced; for a few days after +this, when Clym strayed into a part of the heath that he had not +lately visited, Humphrey, who was at work there, said to him, "I am +glad to see that Mrs. Wildeve and Venn have made it up again, +seemingly." + +"Have they?" said Clym abstractedly. + +"Yes; and he do contrive to stumble upon her whenever she walks out +on fine days with the chiel. But, Mr. Yeobright, I can't help feeling +that your cousin ought to have married you. 'Tis a pity to make two +chimley-corners where there need be only one. You could get her away +from him now, 'tis my belief, if you were only to set about it." + +"How can I have the conscience to marry after having driven two +women to their deaths? Don't think such a thing, Humphrey. After my +experience I should consider it too much of a burlesque to go to +church and take a wife. In the words of Job, 'I have made a covenant +with mine eyes; why then should I think upon a maid?'" + +"No, Mr. Clym, don't fancy that about driving two women to their +deaths. You shouldn't say it." + +"Well, we'll leave that out," said Yeobright. "But anyhow God has +set a mark upon me which wouldn't look well in a lovemaking scene. +I have two ideas in my head, and no others. I am going to keep a +night-school; and I am going to turn preacher. What have you got to +say to that, Humphrey?" + +"I'll come and hear 'ee with all my heart." + +"Thanks. 'Tis all I wish." + +As Clym descended into the valley Thomasin came down by the other +path, and met him at the gate. "What do you think I have to tell you, +Clym?" she said, looking archly over her shoulder at him. + +"I can guess," he replied. + +She scrutinized his face. "Yes, you guess right. It is going to be +after all. He thinks I may as well make up my mind, and I have got to +think so too. It is to be on the twenty-fifth of next month, if you +don't object." + +"Do what you think right, dear. I am only too glad that you see your +way clear to happiness again. My sex owes you every amends for the +treatment you received in days gone by." + + + + +IV + +Cheerfulness Again Asserts Itself at Blooms-End, +and Clym Finds His Vocation + + +Anybody who had passed through Blooms-End about eleven o'clock on the +morning fixed for the wedding would have found that, while Yeobright's +house was comparatively quiet, sounds denoting great activity came +from the dwelling of his nearest neighbour, Timothy Fairway. It was +chiefly a noise of feet, briskly crunching hither and thither over +the sanded floor within. One man only was visible outside, and he +seemed to be later at an appointment than he had intended to be, for +he hastened up to the door, lifted the latch, and walked in without +ceremony. + +The scene within was not quite the customary one. Standing about the +room was the little knot of men who formed the chief part of the +Egdon coterie, there being present Fairway himself, Grandfer Cantle, +Humphrey, Christian, and one or two turf-cutters. It was a warm day, +and the men were as a matter of course in their shirtsleeves, except +Christian, who had always a nervous fear of parting with a scrap of +his clothing when in anybody's house but his own. Across the stout oak +table in the middle of the room was thrown a mass of striped linen, +which Grandfer Cantle held down on one side, and Humphrey on the +other, while Fairway rubbed its surface with a yellow lump, his face +being damp and creased with the effort of the labour. + +"Waxing a bed-tick, souls?" said the newcomer. + +"Yes, Sam," said Grandfer Cantle, as a man too busy to waste words. +"Shall I stretch this corner a shade tighter, Timothy?" + +Fairway replied, and the waxing went on with unabated vigour. "'Tis +going to be a good bed, by the look o't," continued Sam, after an +interval of silence. "Who may it be for?" + +"'Tis a present for the new folks that's going to set up +housekeeping," said Christian, who stood helpless and overcome by the +majesty of the proceedings. + +"Ah, to be sure; and a valuable one, 'a b'lieve." + +"Beds be dear to fokes that don't keep geese, bain't they, Mister +Fairway?" said Christian, as to an omniscient being. + +"Yes," said the furze-dealer, standing up, giving his forehead a +thorough mopping, and handing the beeswax to Humphrey, who succeeded +at the rubbing forthwith. "Not that this couple be in want of one, but +'twas well to show 'em a bit of friendliness at this great racketing +vagary of their lives. I set up both my own daughters in one when +they was married, and there have been feathers enough for another in +the house the last twelve months. Now then, neighbours, I think we +have laid on enough wax. Grandfer Cantle, you turn the tick the right +way outwards, and then I'll begin to shake in the feathers." + +When the bed was in proper trim Fairway and Christian brought forward +vast paper bags, stuffed to the full, but light as balloons, and began +to turn the contents of each into the receptacle just prepared. As +bag after bag was emptied, airy tufts of down and feathers floated +about the room in increasing quantity till, through a mishap of +Christian's, who shook the contents of one bag outside the tick, +the atmosphere of the room became dense with gigantic flakes, which +descended upon the workers like a windless snowstorm. + +"I never saw such a clumsy chap as you, Christian," said Grandfer +Cantle severely. "You might have been the son of a man that's never +been outside Blooms-End in his life for all the wit you have. Really +all the soldiering and smartness in the world in the father seems to +count for nothing in forming the nater of the son. As far as that +chiel Christian is concerned I might as well have stayed at home and +seed nothing, like all the rest of ye here. Though, as far as myself +is concerned, a dashing spirit has counted for sommat, to be sure!" + +"Don't ye let me down so, father; I feel no bigger than a ninepin +after it. I've made but a bruckle hit, I'm afeard." + +"Come, come. Never pitch yerself in such a low key as that, +Christian; you should try more," said Fairway. + +"Yes, you should try more," echoed the Grandfer with insistence, as if +he had been the first to make the suggestion. "In common conscience +every man ought either to marry or go for a soldier. 'Tis a scandal +to the nation to do neither one nor t'other. I did both, thank God! +Neither to raise men nor to lay 'em low--that shows a poor do-nothing +spirit indeed." + +"I never had the nerve to stand fire," faltered Christian. "But as to +marrying, I own I've asked here and there, though without much fruit +from it. Yes, there's some house or other that might have had a +man for a master--such as he is--that's now ruled by a woman alone. +Still it might have been awkward if I had found her; for, d'ye see, +neighbours, there'd have been nobody left at home to keep down +father's spirits to the decent pitch that becomes a old man." + +"And you've your work cut out to do that, my son," said Grandfer +Cantle smartly. "I wish that the dread of infirmities was not so +strong in me!--I'd start the very first thing tomorrow to see the +world over again! But seventy-one, though nothing at home, is a high +figure for a rover... Ay, seventy-one, last Candlemasday. Gad, I'd +sooner have it in guineas than in years!" And the old man sighed. + +"Don't you be mournful, Grandfer," said Fairway. "Empt some more +feathers into the bed-tick, and keep up yer heart. Though rather +lean in the stalks you be a green-leaved old man still. There's time +enough left to ye yet to fill whole chronicles." + +"Begad, I'll go to 'em, Timothy--to the married pair!" said Granfer +Cantle in an encouraged voice, and starting round briskly. "I'll go +to 'em tonight and sing a wedding song, hey? 'Tis like me to do so, +you know; and they'd see it as such. My 'Down in Cupid's Gardens' was +well liked in four; still, I've got others as good, and even better. +What do you say to my + + + She cal'-led to' her love' + From the lat'-tice a-bove, + 'O come in' from the fog'-gy fog'-gy dew'.' + + +"'Twould please 'em well at such a time! Really, now I come to think of +it, I haven't turned my tongue in my head to the shape of a real good +song since Old Midsummer night, when we had the 'Barley Mow' at the +Woman; and 'tis a pity to neglect your strong point where there's few +that have the compass for such things!" + +"So 'tis, so 'tis," said Fairway. "Now gie the bed a shake down. +We've put in seventy pound of best feathers, and I think that's as +many as the tick will fairly hold. A bit and a drap wouldn't be amiss +now, I reckon. Christian, maul down the victuals from corner-cupboard +if canst reach, man, and I'll draw a drap o' sommat to wet it with." + +They sat down to a lunch in the midst of their work, feathers around, +above, and below them; the original owners of which occasionally came +to the open door and cackled begrudgingly at sight of such a quantity +of their old clothes. + +"Upon my soul I shall be chokt," said Fairway when, having extracted a +feather from his mouth, he found several others floating on the mug as +it was handed round. + +"I've swallered several; and one had a tolerable quill," said Sam +placidly from the corner. + +"Hullo--what's that--wheels I hear coming?" Grandfer Cantle exclaimed, +jumping up and hastening to the door. "Why, 'tis they back again: I +didn't expect 'em yet this half-hour. To be sure, how quick marrying +can be done when you are in the mind for't!" + +"O yes, it can soon be DONE," said Fairway, as if something should be +added to make the statement complete. + +He arose and followed the Grandfer, and the rest also went to the +door. In a moment an open fly was driven past, in which sat Venn and +Mrs. Venn, Yeobright, and a grand relative of Venn's who had come +from Budmouth for the occasion. The fly had been hired at the nearest +town, regardless of distance and cost, there being nothing on Egdon +Heath, in Venn's opinion, dignified enough for such an event when such +a woman as Thomasin was the bride; and the church was too remote for a +walking bridal-party. + +As the fly passed the group which had run out from the homestead they +shouted "Hurrah!" and waved their hands; feathers and down floating +from their hair, their sleeves, and the folds of their garments at +every motion, and Grandfer Cantle's seals dancing merrily in the +sunlight as he twirled himself about. The driver of the fly turned +a supercilious gaze upon them; he even treated the wedded pair +themselves with something like condescension; for in what other +state than heathen could people, rich or poor, exist who were doomed +to abide in such a world's end as Egdon? Thomasin showed no such +superiority to the group at the door, fluttering her hand as quickly +as a bird's wing towards them, and asking Diggory, with tears in her +eyes, if they ought not to alight and speak to these kind neighbours. +Venn, however, suggested that, as they were all coming to the house in +the evening, this was hardly necessary. + +After this excitement the saluting party returned to their occupation, +and the stuffing and sewing were soon afterwards finished, when +Fairway harnessed a horse, wrapped up the cumbrous present, and drove +off with it in the cart to Venn's house at Stickleford. + + + +Yeobright, having filled the office at the wedding service which +naturally fell to his hands, and afterwards returned to the house with +the husband and wife, was indisposed to take part in the feasting and +dancing that wound up the evening. Thomasin was disappointed. + +"I wish I could be there without dashing your spirits," he said. "But +I might be too much like the skull at the banquet." + +"No, no." + +"Well, dear, apart from that, if you would excuse me, I should be +glad. I know it seems unkind; but, dear Thomasin, I fear I should not +be happy in the company--there, that's the truth of it. I shall +always be coming to see you at your new home, you know, so that my +absence now will not matter." + +"Then I give in. Do whatever will be most comfortable to yourself." + +Clym retired to his lodging at the housetop much relieved, and +occupied himself during the afternoon in noting down the heads of a +sermon, with which he intended to initiate all that really seemed +practicable of the scheme that had originally brought him hither, and +that he had so long kept in view under various modifications, and +through evil and good report. He had tested and weighed his +convictions again and again, and saw no reason to alter them, though +he had considerably lessened his plan. His eyesight, by long +humouring in his native air, had grown stronger, but not sufficiently +strong to warrant his attempting his extensive educational project. +Yet he did not repine: there was still more than enough of an +unambitious sort to tax all his energies and occupy all his hours. + +Evening drew on, and sounds of life and movement in the lower part of +the domicile became more pronounced, the gate in the palings clicking +incessantly. The party was to be an early one, and all the guests +were assembled long before it was dark. Yeobright went down the back +staircase and into the heath by another path than that in front, +intending to walk in the open air till the party was over, when he +would return to wish Thomasin and her husband good-bye as they +departed. His steps were insensibly bent towards Mistover by the path +that he had followed on that terrible morning when he learnt the +strange news from Susan's boy. + +He did not turn aside to the cottage, but pushed on to an eminence, +whence he could see over the whole quarter that had once been +Eustacia's home. While he stood observing the darkening scene +somebody came up. Clym, seeing him but dimly, would have let him pass +silently, had not the pedestrian, who was Charley, recognized the +young man and spoken to him. + +"Charley, I have not seen you for a length of time," said Yeobright. +"Do you often walk this way?" + +"No," the lad replied. "I don't often come outside the bank." + +"You were not at the Maypole." + +"No," said Charley, in the same listless tone. "I don't care for that +sort of thing now." + +"You rather liked Miss Eustacia, didn't you?" Yeobright gently asked. +Eustacia had frequently told him of Charley's romantic attachment. + +"Yes, very much. Ah, I wish--" + +"Yes?" + +"I wish, Mr. Yeobright, you could give me something to keep that once +belonged to her--if you don't mind." + +"I shall be very happy to. It will give me very great pleasure, +Charley. Let me think what I have of hers that you would like. But +come with me to the house, and I'll see." + +They walked towards Blooms-End together. When they reached the front +it was dark, and the shutters were closed, so that nothing of the +interior could be seen. + +"Come round this way," said Clym. "My entrance is at the back for the +present." + +The two went round and ascended the crooked stair in darkness till +Clym's sitting-room on the upper floor was reached, where he lit a +candle, Charley entering gently behind. Yeobright searched his desk, +and taking out a sheet of tissue-paper unfolded from it two or three +undulating locks of raven hair, which fell over the paper like black +streams. From these he selected one, wrapped it up, and gave it to +the lad, whose eyes had filled with tears. He kissed the packet, put +it in his pocket, and said in a voice of emotion, "O, Mr. Clym, how +good you are to me!" + +"I will go a little way with you," said Clym. And amid the noise of +merriment from below they descended. Their path to the front led them +close to a little side-window, whence the rays of candles streamed +across the shrubs. The window, being screened from general +observation by the bushes, had been left unblinded, so that a person +in this private nook could see all that was going on within the room +which contained the wedding-guests, except in so far as vision was +hindered by the green antiquity of the panes. + +"Charley, what are they doing?" said Clym. "My sight is weaker again +tonight, and the glass of this window is not good." + +Charley wiped his own eyes, which were rather blurred with moisture, +and stepped closer to the casement. "Mr. Venn is asking Christian +Cantle to sing," he replied, "and Christian is moving about in his +chair as if he were much frightened at the question, and his father +has struck up a stave instead of him." + +"Yes, I can hear the old man's voice," said Clym. "So there's to be +no dancing, I suppose. And is Thomasin in the room? I see something +moving in front of the candles that resembles her shape, I think." + +"Yes. She do seem happy. She is red in the face, and laughing at +something Fairway has said to her. O my!" + +"What noise was that?" said Clym. + +"Mr. Venn is so tall that he knocked his head against the beam in +gieing a skip as he passed under. Mrs. Venn has run up quite +frightened and now she's put her hand to his head to feel if there's a +lump. And now they be all laughing again as if nothing had happened." + +"Do any of them seem to care about my not being there?" Clym asked. + +"No, not a bit in the world. Now they are all holding up their +glasses and drinking somebody's health." + +"I wonder if it is mine?" + +"No, 'tis Mr. and Mrs. Venn's, because he is making a hearty sort of +speech. There--now Mrs. Venn has got up, and is going away to put on +her things, I think." + +"Well, they haven't concerned themselves about me, and it is quite +right they should not. It is all as it should be, and Thomasin at +least is happy. We will not stay any longer now, as they will soon be +coming out to go home." + +He accompanied the lad into the heath on his way home, and, returning +alone to the house a quarter of an hour later, found Venn and Thomasin +ready to start, all the guests having departed in his absence. The +wedded pair took their seats in the four-wheeled dogcart which Venn's +head milker and handy man had driven from Stickleford to fetch them +in; little Eustacia and the nurse were packed securely upon the open +flap behind; and the milker, on an ancient overstepping pony, whose +shoes clashed like cymbals at every tread, rode in the rear, in the +manner of a body-servant of the last century. + +"Now we leave you in absolute possession of your own house again," +said Thomasin as she bent down to wish her cousin good night. "It +will be rather lonely for you, Clym, after the hubbub we have been +making." + +"O, that's no inconvenience," said Clym, smiling rather sadly. And +then the party drove off and vanished in the night shades, and +Yeobright entered the house. The ticking of the clock was the only +sound that greeted him, for not a soul remained; Christian, who acted +as cook, valet, and gardener to Clym, sleeping at his father's house. +Yeobright sat down in one of the vacant chairs, and remained in +thought a long time. His mother's old chair was opposite; it had been +sat in that evening by those who had scarcely remembered that it ever +was hers. But to Clym she was almost a presence there, now as always. +Whatever she was in other people's memories, in his she was the +sublime saint whose radiance even his tenderness for Eustacia could +not obscure. But his heart was heavy; that mother had NOT crowned him +in the day of his espousals and in the day of the gladness of his +heart. And events had borne out the accuracy of her judgment, and +proved the devotedness of her care. He should have heeded her for +Eustacia's sake even more than for his own. "It was all my fault," he +whispered. "O, my mother, my mother! would to God that I could live +my life again, and endure for you what you endured for me!" + + + +On the Sunday after this wedding an unusual sight was to be seen on +Rainbarrow. From a distance there simply appeared to be a motionless +figure standing on the top of the tumulus, just as Eustacia had stood +on that lonely summit some two years and a half before. But now it +was fine warm weather, with only a summer breeze blowing, and early +afternoon instead of dull twilight. Those who ascended to the +immediate neighbourhood of the Barrow perceived that the erect form in +the centre, piercing the sky, was not really alone. Round him upon +the slopes of the Barrow a number of heathmen and women were reclining +or sitting at their ease. They listened to the words of the man in +their midst, who was preaching, while they abstractedly pulled +heather, stripped ferns, or tossed pebbles down the slope. This was +the first of a series of moral lectures or Sermons on the Mount, which +were to be delivered from the same place every Sunday afternoon as +long as the fine weather lasted. + +The commanding elevation of Rainbarrow had been chosen for two +reasons: first, that it occupied a central position among the remote +cottages around; secondly, that the preacher thereon could be seen +from all adjacent points as soon as he arrived at his post, the view +of him being thus a convenient signal to those stragglers who wished +to draw near. The speaker was bareheaded, and the breeze at each waft +gently lifted and lowered his hair, somewhat too thin for a man of his +years, these still numbering less than thirty-three. He wore a shade +over his eyes, and his face was pensive and lined; but, though these +bodily features were marked with decay there was no defect in the +tones of his voice, which were rich, musical, and stirring. He stated +that his discourses to people were to be sometimes secular, and +sometimes religious, but never dogmatic; and that his texts would be +taken from all kinds of books. This afternoon the words were as +follows:-- + + + "'And the king rose up to meet her, and bowed himself unto + her, and sat down on his throne, and caused a seat to be set + for the king's mother; and she sat on his right hand. Then + she said, I desire one small petition of thee; I pray thee + say me not nay. And the king said unto her, Ask, on, my + mother: for I will not say thee nay.'" + + +Yeobright had, in fact, found his vocation in the career of an +itinerant open-air preacher and lecturer on morally unimpeachable +subjects; and from this day he laboured incessantly in that office, +speaking not only in simple language on Rainbarrow and in the hamlets +round, but in a more cultivated strain elsewhere--from the steps and +porticoes of town-halls, from market-crosses, from conduits, on +esplanades and on wharves, from the parapets of bridges, in barns and +outhouses, and all other such places in the neighbouring Wessex towns +and villages. He left alone creeds and systems of philosophy, finding +enough and more than enough to occupy his tongue in the opinions and +actions common to all good men. Some believed him, and some believed +not; some said that his words were commonplace, others complained of +his want of theological doctrine; while others again remarked that it +was well enough for a man to take to preaching who could not see to do +anything else. But everywhere he was kindly received, for the story +of his life had become generally known. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE*** + + +******* This file should be named 17500.txt or 17500.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/5/0/17500 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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