The Return of the Native ....................................................................................................................................1

Thomas Hardy ..........................................................................................................................................1

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

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 southwestern quarter is here described, may

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 meetingline

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 furzecutter 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

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

The place became full of a watchful intentness now; for when other things sank blooding 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

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

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

The most thoroughgoing ascetic could feel that he had a natural right to wander on Egdonhe 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

It was at present a place perfectly accordant with man's natureneither 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

heathturfoccurs in charters relating to the district. "Overgrown with heth and mosse," says Leland of the

Here at least were intelligible facts regarding landscapefarreaching 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

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 tothemselves almost crystallized to natural products by long continuanceeven

the trifling irregularities were not caused by pickaxe, plough, or spade, but remained as the very

The abovementioned 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

Along the road walked an old man. He was whiteheaded as a mountain, bowed in the shoulders, and faded

in general aspect. He wore a glazed hat, an ancient boatcloak, and shoes; his brass buttons bearing an anchor

upon their face. In his hand was a silverheaded 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

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 partingline on a head of black hair, diminishing and

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

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

The old man knew the meaning of this. The traveller with the cart was a reddlemana 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

The decayed officer, by degrees, came up alongside his fellowwayfarer, 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

attractivekeen 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 tightfitting suit of corduroy, excellent in quality, not much worn, and wellchosen for its

purpose, but deprived of its original colour by his trade. It showed to advantage the good shape of his figure.

A certain welltodo 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

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

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

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

Not long after this a faint cry sounded from the interior. The reddleman hastened to the back, looked in, and

"Oh, she has fallen asleep, and not being used to traveling, she's uneasy, and keeps dreaming."

"My wife!" said the other bitterly. "She's above mating with such as I. But there's no reason why I should tell

"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."

"Oh, not muchto 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."

The other traveller turned his eyes with interest towards the van window, and, without withdrawing them,

"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."

"It is not that girl of BloomsEnd, who has been talked about more or less lately? If so, I know her; and I can

"'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

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

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

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 semiglobular 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

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

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

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 waterdrop down a bud, and

then vanished. The movement had been sufficient to show more clearly the characteristics of the figure, and

The reason of her sudden displacement now appeared. With her dropping out of sight on the right side, a

newcomer, 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

The only intelligible meaning in this skybacked 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 newcomers, 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

Had a lookeron 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 easilytwo in front and two behind. They came from a part of the heath a quarter of a mile to

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

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,

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 scarletred 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 clockface 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

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 circlenow increased by other stragglers, male and femalewith 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.

It seemed as if the bonfiremakers 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 aidesdecamp 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"

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

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 eyesockets, deep as those of a death's head, suddenly turned into pits of

lustre: a lanternjaw 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 furzehook one of the men carried,

were as glass; eyeballs glowed like little lanterns. Those whom Nature had depicted as merely quaint became

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

"The king' call'd down' his nobles all', By one', by two', by three'; Earl Mar'shal, I'll' go shrive'the queen',

"A boon', a boon', quoth Earl' Marshal', And fell' on his bend'ded knee', That what'soe'er' the queen'

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 crescentshaped 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

"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

"And how about the newmarried 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

"But a little rakish, hey? I own to it. Master Cantle is that, or he's nothing. Yet 'tis a gay fault, neigbbour

"I heard that they were coming home tonight. By this time they must have come. What besides?"

"No? Now, I thought we must. I must, or 'twould be very unlike methe first in every spree that's going!

"Do thou' put on' a fri'ar's coat', And I'll' put on' ano'ther, And we' will to' Queen Ele'anor go', Like Fri'ar

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 believeah, I should like to have all that's under that young man's

hair. Well, then, I spoke to her in my wellknown 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

"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' Christmasto make a

"Yes, yesthat'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

womanwife, 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.

"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 furzecutter, 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 nunnywatch and forbidding the banns 'twould have made Mis'ess Yeobright seem foolishlike to

"Exactlyseem foolishlike; 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 toyear; and now the

"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

"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

"'Ye are to declare it,' was the parson's words," Fairway continued. "And then up stood a woman at my

sideatouching of me. 'Well, be damned if there isn't Mis'ess Yeobright astanding 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 damned if there isn't Mis'ess Yeobright astanding 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 wayyes, 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

churchthe crosslegged soldier that have had his arm knocked away by the schoolchildren? 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,

"I'm sure when I heard they'd been forbid I felt as glad as if anybody had gied me sixpence," said an earnest

voicethat 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.

"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 hereright," said a widespread

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

"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 sixhanded reels by the hour; and they do a man's legs no good

"True. Once at the woman's house you can hardly say nay to being one in a jig, knowing all the time that you

"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 ladylike 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 goodlooking."

"To give him his due he's a clever, learned fellow in his waya'most as clever as Clym Yeobright used to

be. He was brought up to better things than keeping the Quiet Woman. An engineerthat'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

"Very often the case," said Olly, the besommaker. "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 blotwhat do I say?why, almost without a desk

"Why, afore I went a soldier in the Bangup 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

"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 wasthy 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 dogdays, what with the marrying, and what with the woman ahanging 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

"Wildeve is older than Tamsin Yeobright by a goodfew summers. A pretty maid too she is. A young woman

The speaker, a peat or turfcutter, who had newly joined the group, carried across his shoulder the singular

heartshaped spade of large dimensions used in that species of labour, and its wellwhetted edge gleamed

"Didst ever know a man, neighbour, that no woman at all would marry?" inquired Humphrey.

"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 turfcutter.

"Well, 'a was neither a deaf man, nor a dumb man, nor a blind man. What 'a was I don't say."

"Hardly," said Timothy; "but I name no name....Come, keep the fire up there, youngsters."

"Whatever is Christian Cantle's teeth achattering for?" said a boy from amid the smoke and shades on the

"Come forward, Christian, and show yourself. I didn't know you were here," said Fairway, with a humane

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

"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

"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,

"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

"Sure I should never have thought you had the face. Well, and what did the last one say to ye? Nothing that

"'Get out of my sight, you slacktwisted, slimlooking maphrotight fool,' was the woman's words to me."

"Not encouraging, I own," said Fairway. "'Get out of my sight, you slacktwisted, slimlooking 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

"That's my age by baptism, because that's put down in the great book of the Judgment that they keep in

"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 manchild she had.

"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

"I suppose the moon was terrible full when you were born?" said Christian, with a look of hopeless

"I'd sooner go without drink at Lammastide 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

"Ay," said Grandfer Cantle, somewhat subdued in spirit; "and yet his mother cried for scores of hours when 'a

"You'll have to lie alone all your life; and 'tis not to married couples but to single sleepers that a ghost shows

"Nodon'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 willah, 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, nodon't tell me."

"I don't half believe in spirits myself. But I think it ghostly enoughwhat I was told. 'Twas a little boy that

"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

"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 tonight afore we go to bedbeing their weddingday? 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 BloomsEnd."

"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 dotoo 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' shoulder', And a grim' look look'ed hee', Earl Mar'shal, he said', but for'

"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 acoming home after the deed's done? He should have come afore, if so be he

"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 lonelyno, not at all," said Grandfer Cantle. "I am as brave in the

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 fuelstraw, beanstalks, and the usual waste from arable

land. The most enduring of allsteady unaltering eyes like Planetssignified wood, such as

hazelbranches, thornfaggots, and stout billets. Fires of the lastmentioned 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

positionsskybacked summits rising out of rich coppice and plantation districts to the north, where the soil

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

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

"To be sure, how near that fire is!" said Fairway. "Seemingly. I can see a fellow of some sort walking round

"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 cleftwood, 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

"Cap'n Vye has been for a long walk today, and is quite tired out," said Grandfer Cantle, "so 'tisn't likely to be

"Then it must be his granddaughter," 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 wellfavoured maid enough," said Humphrey the furzecutter, "especially when she's got one of her

"That's true," said Fairway. "Well, let her bonfire burn an't will. Ours is wellnigh 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 homealong, neighbours? The heth isn't haunted, I know; but we'd better get

"I don't think FifthofNovembers ought to be kept up by night except in towns. It should be by day in

"Nonsense, Christian. Lift up your spirits like a man! Susy, dear, you and I will have a jighey, my

honey?before 'tis quite too dark to see how wellfavoured you be still, though so many summers have

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

"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 turfcutter 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 threelegged 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 "heuheuheu!" and the

strumming of the wind upon the furzebushes, 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 ithow

"Yes'tis behind me!" Christian said. "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, bless the bed that I lie on; four

"Is there any cart track up across here to Mis'ess Yeobright's, of BloomsEnd?" came to them in the same

"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

When the flame arose it revealed a young man in tight raiment, and red from top to toe. "Is there a track

"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

"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 badlooking 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 a handkerchief over his head he'd look for all the world

"Well, thank you for telling me," said the young reddleman, smiling faintly. "And good night t'ye all."

"I fancy I've seen that young man's face before," said Humphrey. "But where, or how, or what his name is, I

The reddleman had not been gone more than a few minutes when another person approached the partially

revived bonfire. It proved to be a wellknown 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

She was a woman of middleage, with wellformed 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, thus 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

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

"I am glad to hear that your son Mr. Clym is coming home at Christmas, ma'am," said Sam, the turfcutter.

"'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 pixyled here at

"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

"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

"A harrowing old man, Mis'ess Yeobright," said Christian despondingly. "I wouldn't live with him a week, so

"'Twould be more seemly in ye to stand still and welcome Mis'ess Yeobright, and you the venerablest here,

"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

"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

"But we shall take a shorter cut through the furze than you can go with long clothes; so we won't trouble you

"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

Down, downward they went, and yet further downtheir 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

"And so Tamsin has married him at last," said Olly, when the incline had become so much less steep that

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 besommaker.

"You were not more struck by it than I should have been last year this time, Olly. There are a good many

"I felt myself that he was hardly solidgoing enough to mate with your family. Keeping an innwhat is it?

But 'a's clever, that's true, and they say he was an engineering gentleman once, but has come down by being

"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

willhe've several acres of hethground broke up here, besides the public house, and the hethcroppers, and

"It cannot," said Mrs. Yeobright. "See, here's the wagontrack 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 besommaker 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

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

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

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 BloomsEnd."

The reddleman started, and held up his finger. He stopped the horses, and beckoned to her to withdraw with

"I do not," said she. "Why, yes, I do! You are young Vennyour father was a dairyman somewhere here?"

"Yes; and I knew your niece, Miss Tamsin, a little. I have something bad to tell you."

"About herno! She has just come home, I believe, with her husband. They arranged to return this

"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 youwill you help me? I am in trouble.'"

"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

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,

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 I ay 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 madrigalto require viewing through rhyme and

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.

"O yes, it is I, Aunt," she cried. "I know how frightened you are, and how you cannot believe it; but all the

"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 selfcommand she uttered no sound. With a

"I did not expect to see you in this state, any more than you me," she went on quickly. "Where am I, Aunt?"

"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

"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

Aunt and niece then descended from the van, Mrs. Yeobright saying to its owner, "I quite recognize you now.

"Well, I did," he said, and looked at Thomasin, who blushed a little. "Then you'll not be wanting me any

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

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

"Now, Thomasin," she said sternly, "what's the meaning of this disgraceful performance?"

Thomasin looked as if quite overcome by her aunt's change of manner. "It means just what it seems to mean:

I amnot married," she replied faintly. "Excuse mefor humiliating you, Aunt, by this mishapI am sorry

"It was nobody's fault. When we got there the parson wouldn't marry us because of some trifling 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

"I could almost say that it serves you rightif 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 doingstood up in

the church, and made myself the public talk for weeks. But having once consented, I don't submit to these

"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

"Very well; then I will be the miserablest woman in the world, and not let him see me again. No, I won't have

"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

"It was not that. The license was wrong, and he couldn't get another the same day. He will tell you in a

"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

"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:

[1] The inn which really bore this sign and legend stood some miles to the northwest of the present scene,

wherein the house more immediately referred to is now no longer an inn; and the surroundings are much

changed. But another inn, some of whose features are also embodied in this description, the RED LION at

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,

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 featherheaded reeds

which formed a stockade along each bank. Their presence was denoted by sounds as of a congregation

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.

"Must I come in, too, Aunt?" asked Thomasin faintly. "I suppose not; it would be wrong."

"You must come, certainlyto confront him, so that he may make no false representations to me. We shall

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

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 singularit was the pantomimic expression of a ladykilling 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 highcornered 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

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

"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

"No. I had been at Budmouthtill two days agoand 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

"It was quite my fault we chose Anglebury," Thomasin pleaded. "I proposed it because I was not known

"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."

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,

"Certainly, dear," said Wildeve, "if your aunt will excuse us." He led her into an adjoining room, leaving Mrs.

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 suffered today; 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."

"Yes," Thomasin murmured, "and I suppose I seem so now....Damon, what do you mean to do about me?"

"Yes. Those who don't like you whisper things which at moments make me doubt you. We mean to marry, I

"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

"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 beforeit is done. My cousin Clym, too, will be

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

"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 forbiddenthe 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

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

"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."

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 meanit is not skimmityriding, I hope?" she said, with a frightened gaze at Wildeve.

"Of course not; no, it is that the heathfolk have come to sing to us a welcome. This is intolerable!" He began

"He told' her that she' was the joy' of his life', And if' she'd consent' 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

It was, however, too late to get away by the passage. A rugged knocking had begun upon the door of the front

"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 scenewe must marry after this; that you can see as well as I. Sit still, that's alland

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

"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

turfcutter, 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

"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

Wildeve made no reply; and probably feeling that the sooner he treated them the sooner they would go, he

"That's a drop of the right sort, I can see," said Grandfer Cantle, with the air of a man too well mannered to

"O ay!" replied the guests, in the hearty tones natural when the words demanded by politeness coincide with

"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

"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

"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 sayfolk that

knowed what a true stave was'Surely, surely that's never the same man that I saw handling the clarinet so

"I can mind it," said the furzecutter. "'Twas a wonderful thing that one body could hold it all and never mix

"There was Kingsbere church likewise," Fairway recommenced, as one opening a new vein of the same mine

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?"

"And neighbour Yeobright would take Andrey's place for some part of the service, to let Andrey have a bit of

"As any friend would," said Grandfer Cantle, the other listeners expressing the same accord by the shorter

"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 minda bass viol day that time, and

Yeobright had brought his own. 'Twas the Hundredandthirtythird 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 hisself, 'O for such a

man in our parish!' But not a soul in Kingsbere could hold a candle to Yeobright."

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,

"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 gownpieces at Greenhill Fair, and my wife that is now, being a longlegged slittering maid,

hardly husbandhigh, went with the rest of the maidens, for 'a was a good, runner afore she got so heavy.

When she came home I saidwe were then just beginning to walk together'What have ye got, my honey?'

'I've wonwell, I've wona gownpiece,' 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

"O noquite different. Nor any pain of mind. He was lucky enough to be God A'mighty's own man."

"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 afeardor 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,

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

"It was lighted before ours was," Fairway continued; "and yet every one in the country round is out afore 'n."

"He means, sir, that the lonesome darkeyed creature up there that some say is a witchever I should call a

fine young woman such a nameis 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 illwishing

"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

"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

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 deepdyed

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 turfcutter, they pursued their trackless way home.

When the scratching of the furze against their leggings had fainted upon the ear, Wildeve returned to the

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. "Ahold 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.

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

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 northeast at the undying little firehigh up

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, "Yesby 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

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

That she was tall and straight in build, that she was ladylike 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 northwest; 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 southeast, did not at first appear.

Her reason for standing so dead still as the pivot of this circle of heathcountry 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,

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 northwest, 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

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

They were the mummied heathbells 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 tonight 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 lefthand

expanse of old blooms spoke, or the righthand, or those of the slope in front; but it was the single person of

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 heatherbells 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

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

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

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

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

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

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 foottrack, 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 nightrambling in littletrodden 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

The solitary figure who walked this beat took no notice of the windy tune still played on the dead heathbells.

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 heathcroppers.

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 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

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

At one side of the pool rough steps built of clods enabled everyone 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 dwellinghouse, garden, and outbuildings, backed by a clump

The young ladyfor youth had revealed its presence in her buoyant bound up the bankwalked 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 sawnthe

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 eves.

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."

"Why, I thought you would be pleased to have a bonfire. Are you not much obliged to me for making you

"Nobody except your grandfatherhe looked out of doors once for 'ee. I told him you were walking round

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 Christmasyou have

"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

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 whitehaired 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

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 sixpence," 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

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

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

"Well," she said at last, "I shall soon be going in, and then I will give you the crooked sixpence, and let you

"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

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

While Eustacia looked on from this distance the boy's form visibly startedhe slid down the bank and ran

"Then it is going to rain, and you had better go home. You will not be afraid?" She spoke hurriedly, as if her

"Yes. here it is. Now run as fast as you cannot that waythrough the garden here. No other boy in the

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 hourglass by the gate, brushed forward from the wicket

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.

Thereupon the contour of a man became dimly visible against the lowreaching 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

herthe 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

"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

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

"How did you know it? I have had no word with you since youyou 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

"Yes, yesI 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."

"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 nowit is too much for a woman of any spirit to quite

"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!"

"My grandfather. He took a long walk today, and as he was coming home he overtook some person who told

"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."

"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 meI see it, and yet I love you. Never mind, let it goI must bear your mean opinion as

best I may....It is true, is it not," she added with illconcealed 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 innkeepingwhat 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,

Eustacia was not one to commit herself to such a position without good ground. He said quietly, "No."

"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 agothat you had quite deserted me?"

"But perhaps it is not wholly because of you that I get gloomy," she archly added. "It is in my nature to feel

"Or else it was coming into this wild heath. I was happy enough at Budmouth. O the times, O the days at

"I hope it will," said Wildeve moodily. "Do you know the consequence of this recall to me, my old darling? I

"And yet I declare that until I got here tonight I intended, after this one goodbye, 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

"You have said as much before, sweet; but such natures as yours don't so easily adhere to their words.

"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 you woundings, 'Do

I embrace a cloud of common fog after all?' You are a chameleon, and now you are at your worst colour. Go

He looked absently towards Rainbarrow while one might have counted twenty, and said, as if he did not

"I don't think it would be good policy," said Wildeve, smiling. "You would get to know the extent of your

"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

"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 homethree

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

The revived embers of an old passion glowed clearly in Wildeve now; and he leant forward as if about to put

"O no," she said, intractably moving to the other side of the decayed fire. "What did you mean by that?"

She returned no answer, and with the bow of a dancing master he vanished on the other side of the pool as

Eustacia sighedit 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 wouldand 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 halfburnt 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

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,

she had 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

She was in person fulllimbed 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

shadowit 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 Europoeuswhich will act as a sort of hairbrushshe would go back a few steps, and pass

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 soshe 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 flamelike. The sparks from it that

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 closingline of her lips formed, with almost geometric

precision, the curve so well known in the arts of design as the cimarecta, 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 lipcurves 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

Her presence brought memories of such things as Bourbon roses, rubies, and tropical midnight; her moods

recalled lotuseaters 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

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

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 therea

Corfiote by birth, and a fine musicianwho 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

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 perspectiveromantic 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 wateringplace

glitter with the grand solemnity of a heath, was to be found in her. Seeing nothing of human life now, she

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 Heavena 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 wellnigh impossible. It would have been as easy for the heathponies, 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

To be loved to madnesssuch 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

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 youththat any love she might win would sink simultaneously

with the sand in the glass. She thought of it with an evergrowing 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

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 experienceshe 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

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

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 noncomformity 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 furzefaggots 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 Saturdaynight ballads of the country people the while. But on Saturday

nights she would frequently sing a psalm, and it was always on a weekday that she read the Bible, that she

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

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,

And so we see our Eustaciafor at times she was not altogether unlovablearriving 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 hourglassthe 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.

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 threeeighths 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 sailorboy and a fair one, and bright gold in store. In the middle of this the

child stoppedfrom a pit under the hill ahead of him shone a light, whence proceeded a cloud of floating

Only unusual sights and sounds frightened the boy. The shrivelled voice of the heath did not alarm him, for

that was familiar. The thornbushes 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,

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

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

Here was a ScyllaeoCharybdean 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 light had gone, the rising dust had disappearedhe 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

"Two he'thcroppers 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 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 heelsthe man

who had been Thomasin's friend. He was darning a stocking, which was red like the rest of him. Moreover, as

At this moment one of the heathcroppers 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

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

The red man opened the lantern and turned it upon the figure of the prostrate boy.

"Why, yes, you beyour hand is bleeding. Come under my tilt and let me tie it up."

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

"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."

The child surveyed his vermilion figure up and down with much misgiving and finally said, "Yes."

"Yes, that's what I be. Though there's more than one. You little children think there's only one cuckoo, one

"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

"No, I took to it. I should be as white as you if I were to give up the tradethat is, I should be white in

timeperhaps six months; not at first, because 'tis grow'd into my skin and won't wash out. Now, you'll

"No, never. Willy Orchard said he seed a red ghost here t'other dayperhaps that was you?"

"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

The reddleman suddenly ceased to talk idly. "A hopfrog?" he inquired. "Hopfrogs don't jump into ponds this

"Yes. She told me afore that I should hear'n; and so I did. They say she's clever and deep, and perhaps she

"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

"Told him she supposed he had not married the other woman because he liked his old sweetheart best; and

"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

"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

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

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 neverfailing production of a

Reddle spreads its lively hues over everything it lights on, and stamps unmistakably, as with the mark of

A child's first sight of a reddleman was an epoch in his life. That bloodcoloured 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 wornout bogeys, and his place is filled

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

cattledrovers 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 roundabouts and waxwork 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

It was sometimes suggested that reddlemen were criminals for whose misdeeds other men wrongfully

sufferedthat 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 groundwork 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 thinkwhich was, indeed, partly the truththat 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 framework of his

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 leathern pouch from

a hook in the corner of the van. This contained among other articles a brownpaper packet, which, to judge

from the hingelike character of its worn folds, seemed to have been carefully opened and closed a good

many times. He sat down on a threelegged 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

DEAR DIGGORY VENN,The question you put when you overtook me coming home from Pondclose

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 dairyfarmer, 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 welldoing. I send this by Jane Orchard's little maid,And remain Diggory, your faithful

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 onefourth 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 ewelamb 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

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

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

The same hour the next evening found him again at the same place; but Eustacia and Wildeve, the expected

He pursued precisely the same course yet four nights longer, and without success. But on the next, being the

dayweek 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 tumulusthe original

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 crosswind, the conversation of the trysting pair could

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

"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 soI 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. Betterof course it

"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.

"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 courtesythe courtesy of a lady in loving youwho

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

"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

"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,

"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

"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

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

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, DamonI'll try to bear it. Had I nothing whatever to

"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

"Yes, yes! I am nothing in itI am nothing in it. You only trifle with me. Heaven, what can I, Eustacia Vye,

"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!

"Yes, you served me cruelly enough until I thought I had found someone fairer than you. A blessed find for

"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

"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 donothing, another too melancholy, another too dark, another I don't

know what, exceptthat you are not the whole world to me that you used to be, my dear. But you are a

Eustacia was silent, and she turned from him, till she said, in a voice of suspended mightiness, "I am for a

"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 canyou will never forget me. You will love me all

"So I would!" said Wildeve. "Such strange thoughts as I've had from time to time, Eustacia; and they come to

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 firclump lay, and

how near was the pit in which the hollies grew; for these differing features had their voices no less than their

"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."

"It seems impossible to do well here, unless one were a wild bird or a landscapepainter. Well?"

"Give me time," she softly said, taking his hand. "America is so far away. Are you going to walk with me a

As Eustacia uttered the latter words she retired from the base of the barrow, and Wildeve followed her, so

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 twentyfour. His spirit was perturbed to aching. The breezes that blew around his mouth in

He entered the van, where there was a fire in a stove. Without lighting his candle he sat down at once on the

threelegged stool, and pondered on what he had seen and heard touching that stillloved 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."

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 fogformed Aegean, the reddleman came from the brambled nook which he had adopted

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 passerby. 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. Marshharriers looked up from the valley by

Wildeve's. A creamcoloured 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

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

mallardjust 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 underfootthe 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

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 Vyeto 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

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,

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, reddlemanyou

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

Miss Vye was not to be seen by anybody just then; and the reddleman waited in the windowbench of the

kitchen, his hands hanging across his divergent knees, and his cap hanging from his hands.

"Then I'll step outside," said Venn. "If she is willing to see me, will she please send out word, and I'll come

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

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,"

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

"Yes, there is trouble in a household on account of him, and I have come to let you know of it, because I

"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."

"I cannot. I am not interested in the marriage, and even if I were I could not compel Mr. Wildeve to do my

"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 menfolk, were to insist that he should

treat your young neighbour Tamsin with honourable kindness and give up the other woman, he would

"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 menfolk 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 mewhich Thomasin Yeobright has not particularly, to my knowledge."

"Can it be that you really don't know of ithow 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

The superciliousness that lurked in her manner told Venn that thus far he had utterly failed. He inwardly

"Well, leaving that out of the question, 'tis in your power, I assure you, Miss Vye, to do a great deal of good

"Your comeliness is law with Mr. Wildeve. It is law with all men who see 'ee. They say, 'This well favoured

lady comingwhat'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 tigerbeetle, 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

The reddleman suffered the wound and went on: "He is a man who notices the looks of women, and you

"Surely what she cannot do who has been so much with him I cannot do living up here away from him."

"Why do you say thatas 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

"Miss Vye, why should you make believe that you don't know this man?I know why, certainly. He is

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. "Noit is not thatI am not in a humour to hear you further. Leave me,

"I must speak, Miss Vye, in spite of paining you. What I would put before you is this. However it may come

aboutwhether she is to blame, or youher 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

easilyeverybody will blame her if she loses him. Then I ask younot because her right is best, but

"NoI 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 wellI will not be beaten downby 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

"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

"I have NOT injured herhe was mine before he was hers! He came backbecausebecause he liked me

best!" she said wildly. "But I lose all selfrespect 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

"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

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

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 placewonderfula great salt

sheening sea bending into the land like a bowthousands of gentlepeople walking up and downbands of

music playingofficers by sea and officers by land walking among the restout of every ten folks you

"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'thcroppers that we see yond.

"My uncle has been for five and twenty years the trusty man of a rich widowlady who has a beautiful house

facing the sea. This lady has become old and lame, and she wants a young companykeeper 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

"No, not real workyou'd have a little to do, such as reading and that. You would not be wanted till New

"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

"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

heathfolk, 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

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, fancifullytwining 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 lovemaking 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.

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.

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

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

"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

Mrs. Yeobright was not demonstrative, but her eyes involuntarily glanced towards his singular though

"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 rednesswell, 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

"I am much obliged to you for your interest in my niece; but I fear there would be objections. More than that,

"Otherwise there would be no pain in the case, and you would not see me going to his house now. What was

"She was in a measure right. You must not take this unkindlyI 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

"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

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 characterat 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 Wildeveyes, I, ma'amin 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,

Mrs. Yeobright appeared disinclined to enter further into the question. "I fear I must go on," she said. "I do

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

Wildeve was at home when she reached the inn. He showed her silently into the parlour, and closed the door.

"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."

"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."

"One who has been in love with her longer than she has with you. He proposed to her two years ago. At that

"He has seen her lately, and has asked me for permission to pay his addresses to her. She may not refuse him

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

"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

"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

"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."

"And so my whole plan is interfered with! It is very inconvenient that you refuse to help my family even to

Wildeve reflected uncomfortably. "I confess I was not prepared for this," he said. "Of course I'll give her up if

"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

"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

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

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

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

"You would not have kept me so long had you known what I come about," he said with bitterness. "Still, you

"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."

"And can you forget so soon what I proposed to you the other night? Why, take you from this place, and

"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."

"I am not aware of it. All is as it should be. Mrs. Yeobrightbut she is nothing to us."

"Noshe 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 has escaped

Eustacia was silent a long while. "You are in the awkward position of an official who is no longer wanted,"

"And that irritates you. Don't deny it, Damon. You are actually nettled by this slight from an unexpected

"And you come to get me because you cannot get her. This is certainly a new position altogether. I am to be a

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 yetdared 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

naturethat of not desiring the undesired of otherswas lively as a passion in the supersubtle, 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.

"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 lessor loved you more."

"You can be painfully frank. You loved me a month ago warmly enough to go anywhere with me."

"Yes, perhaps that was where the reason lay," he returned, with almost a sneer. "I don't hate her now."

"Comeno taunts, Eustacia, or we shall quarrel. If you don't agree to go with me, and agree shortly, I shall

"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 amcheapest! Yes, yesit 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 doghole of

"I want to get away from here at almost any cost," she said with weariness, "but I don't like to go with you.

"A little longer, so that I may tell you decisively. I have to consider so many things. Fancy Thomasin being

"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 goodbye."

"Goodbye. 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 impulsea 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 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

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 illjudged, 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

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 waterline of his ship, and other naval wonders, to the natives, who hoped too earnestly

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

"Young Clym Yeobright, as they call him, is coming home next week to spend Christmas with his mother.

"Ah, true; he left before you came here. I well remember him as a promising boy."

On the 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

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 northeast to southeast, sunset had receded from northwest to

Eustacia was indoors in the diningroom, which was really more like a kitchen, having a stone floor and a

gaping chimneycorner. 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

She remembered: the furzestack 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

"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 boyhoodin 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

"Yes, sir, that's it. 'Tis a blazing great business that he belongs to, so I've heard his mother saylike a king's

"'Tis a good thing for the feller," said Humphrey. "A sight of times better to be selling diments than nobbling

"A good few indeed, my man," replied the captain. "Yes, you may make away with a deal of money and be

"They say, too, that Clym Yeobright is become a real perusing man, with the strangest notions about things.

"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 rascalsa woman can hardly pass for shame sometimes. 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

"Now, I should think, Cap'n, that Miss Eustacia had about as much in her head that comes from books as

"Perhaps if Miss Eustacia, too, had less romantic nonsense in her head it would be better for her," said the

"I say, Sam," observed Humphrey when the old man was gone, "she and Clym Yeobright would make a very

pretty pigeonpairhey? 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 doctrinethere 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, armincrook together, and their best clothes on, whether or no, if he's at all the

"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

"That's a bad trouble about his cousin Thomasin. I wonder such a nicenotioned 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

"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

While the furzegatherers 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

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

Involved in these imaginings she knew nothing of time. When she became conscious of externals it was dusk.

The furzerick 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 BloomsEnd, 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 the daydream 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

She put on her bonnet, and, leaving the house, descended the hill on the side towards BloomsEnd, 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 capitalthe centre and vortex of the fashionable world.

All that afternoon the expected arrival of the subject of Eustacia's ruminations created a bustle of preparation

at BloomsEnd. 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 fuelhouse, where the storeapples were kept, to search out

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 halfway up the ladder, looking at a spot into which she was not climber enough to venture.

Thomasin turned and rolled aside the fern from another nook, where more mellow fruit greeted her with its

"Dear Clym, I wonder how your face looks now?" she said, gazing abstractedly at the pigeonhole. which

admitted the sunlight so directly upon her brown hair and transparent tissues that it almost seemed to shine

"If he could have been dear to you in another way," said Mrs. Yeobright from the ladder, "this might have

"Yes," said her aunt, with some warmth. "To thoroughly fill the air with the past misfortune, so that other

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 applesdo 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,

"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

"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

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

"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

"Ah, you think, 'That weak girlhow 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

"Thomasin," said Mrs. Yeobright quietly, fixing her eye upon her niece, "do you think you deceive me in

"I have long had a suspicion that your love for him has changed its colour since you have found him not to be

"Now, I put it to you: would you at this present moment agree to be his wife if that had not happened to

Thomasin looked into the tree and appeared much disturbed. "Aunt," she said presently, "I have, I think, a

"You may think what you choose. I have never implied to you by word or deed that I have grown to think

"Well, wait till he repeats his offer. I think he may do it, now that he knowssomething 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

"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

"And you will keep the secret of my wouldbe 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

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

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

"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

"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

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

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 foottrack 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

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

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

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 onetenth of themthe voice that had

wished her good night. Sometimes this throat uttered Yes, sometimes it uttered No; sometimes it made

inquiries about a time worn denizen of the place. Once it surprised her notions by remarking upon the

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

Parisladen 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 sonfor Clym it

wasstartling 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 restexcept 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

Eustacia entered her own house; she was excited. Her grandfather was enjoying himself over the fire, raking

about the ashes and exposing the redhot surface of the turves, so that their lurid glare irradiated the

"Why is it that we are never friendly with the Yeobrights?" she said, coming forward and stretching her soft

"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."

"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 how 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

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 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

Eustacia awoke. The cracking had been that of the window shutter downstairs, which the maidservant was

opening to let in the day, now slowly increasing to Nature's meagre allowance at this sickly time of the year.

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

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 selfcontrol 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 BloomsEnd 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

The third time there was a dense fog; she looked around, but without much hope. Even if he had been

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 BloomsEnd lay. She saw the white paling about half a mile off; but he did not appear. It was

almost with heartsickness that she came home and with a sense of shame at her weakness. She resolved to

But Providence is nothing if not coquettish; and no sooner had Eustacia formed this resolve than the

In the evening of this last day of expectation, which was the twentythird of December, Eustacia was at home

alone. She had passed the recent hour in lamenting over a rumour newly come to her earsthat 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

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, selfconsciousness, 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

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' chimneycorners 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 wetfooted 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

It was dusk, and she was sitting by the fire in the diningroom or hall, which they occupied at this time of the

year in preference to the parlour, because of its large hearth, constructed for turffires, a fuel the captain was

partial to in the winter season. The only visible articles in the room were those on the windowsill, 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 flowerpots for two

razorleaved cactuses. Somebody knocked at the door. The servant was out; so was her grandfather. The

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.

"Please will your grandfather lend us his fuelhouse to try over our parts in, tonight at seven o'clock?"

"I know it. Yes, you may use the fuelhouse if you like," said Eustacia languidly.

The choice of Captain Vye's fuelhouse as the scene of rehearsal was dictated by the fact that his dwelling was

nearly in the centre of the heath. The fuelhouse 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

The piece was the wellknown 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

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

There was, it is true, a limit to this tendency to uniformity. The Leech or Doctor preserved his character

intacthis 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,

Seven o'clock, the hour of the rehearsal, came round, and in a short time Eustacia could hear voices in the

fuelhouse. To dissipate in some trifling measure her abiding sense of the murkiness of human life she went to

the "linhay" or leanto shed, which formed the rootstore of their dwelling and abutted on the fuelhouse.

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

On a ledge in the fuelhouse stood three tall rushlights 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 furzeand turfcutters, 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 mummerselect 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

"Oh, Mrs. Yeobright's. What makes her want to see ye? I should think a middleaged woman was tired of

"She's got up a bit of a party, because 'tis the first Christmas that her son Clym has been home for a long

"To be sure, to be sureher 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

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,

The lad was surprised. He entered the front room not without blushing; for he, like many, had felt the power

She pointed to a seat by the fire, and entered the other side of the chimneycorner 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, Charleythe Turkish Knight, do you not?" inquired the beauty, looking across the

continuing the discourse throughout the scenes to the concluding catastrophe of his fall by the hand of Saint

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

"I have heard it before," she quietly observed. "Now, would you do anything to please me, Charley?"

"I can get boy's clothesat 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 somebodya cousin of Miss Vye'swould 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,

He shook his head again. "Money won't do it," he said, brushing the iron head of the firedog with the hollow

"You know what you forbade me at the Maypoling, miss," murmured the lad, without looking at her, and still

"Yes," said Eustacia, with a little more hauteur. "You wanted to join hands with me in the ring, if I recollect?"

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.

"Yes, Miss EustaciaI 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

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

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 fuelhouse 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

He appeared on the dark ridge of heathland, like a fly on a Negro, bearing the articles with him, and came up

"Here are the things," he whispered, placing them upon the threshold. "And now, Miss Eustacia"

She leant against the doorpost, 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.

They stood together minute after minute, without further speech, each looking at the blackening scene, and

"I think I won't use it all up tonight," said Charley devotedly, when six or eight minutes had been passed by

"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 doto wait while I put on the dress, and then to see if I do my part properly. But let me

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 fuelhouse door.

"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 washhouse, if you can feel your

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

"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

"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

"Yes. Well, you of course must not appear. I will march in about five minutes late, readydressed, 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 heathcroppers 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."

"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

The next evening the mummers were assembled in the same spot, awaiting the entrance of the Turkish

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

BloomsEnd 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

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 fuelhouse door. Her grandfather was safe at

"'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 heathcroppers 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

Her graceful gait, elegant figure, and dignified manner in general won the mummers to the opinion that they

"It don't matterif you be not too young," said Saint George. Eustacia's voice had sounded somewhat more

"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 tryover. I'll

The play was hastily rehearsed, whereupon the other mummers were delighted with the new knight. They

extinguished the candles at halfpast eight, and set out upon the heath in the direction of Mrs. Yeobright's

There was a slight hoarfrost 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 halfmoon was

Halfanhour 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 usual 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

He was there, of course. Who was she that he danced with? Perhaps some unknown woman, far beneath

herself in culture, was by the most subtle of lures sealing his fate this very instant. To dance with a man is to

concentrate a twelvemonth'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

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 longempty 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

"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 sittingroom, where the

"That's it. Here we must bide till they have done, for they always bolt the back door after dark."

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 interminablethe 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

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

"Why does Mrs. Yeobright give parties of this sort?" Eustacia asked, a little surprised to hear merriment so

"It is not one of her bettermost parlourparties. 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."

"'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

"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."

"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.

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."

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,

"Ah, the mummers, the mummers!" cried several guests at once. "Clear a space for the mummers."

Humpbacked 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,

"Make room, make room, my gallant boys, And give us space to rhyme; We've come to show Saint George's

The guests were now arranging themselves at one end of the room, the fiddler was mending a string, the

serpentplayer was emptying his mouthpiece, and the play began. First of those outside the Valiant Soldier

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

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

Meanwhile Jim Starks as the Valiant Soldier had come forward, and, with a glare upon the Turk, replied

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

"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

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 overcomedying as hard in this venerable drama as he is

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

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 clockcase, 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.

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 chimneycorner were grouped the

guests, many of them being warmfaced and panting, among whom Eustacia cursorily recognized some

welltodo 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 outsidethe 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 chimneycrook, 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 oldfashioned 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

It was, however, not with those who sat in the settle that Eustacia was concerned. A face showed itself with

marked distinctness against the darktanned 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

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

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 overrun 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

Hence people who began by beholding him ended by perusing him. His countenance was overlaid with

legible meanings. Without being thoughtworn 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

The remainder of the play endedthe 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

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

"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 clockcase. "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

"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

"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

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

"You too have altered, and for the better, I think Timothy," said Yeobright, surveying the firm figure of

"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

"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

"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

"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 Bangup 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 shopwinders 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 bagnet, and my spatterdashes, and my

stock sawing my jaws off, and my accoutrements sheening like the seven stars! Yes, neighbours, I was a

"'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

"Coffins, where?" inquired Christian, drawing nearer. "Have the ghost of one appeared to anybody, Master

"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

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 halfway through the pantry door, which opened from the

sittingroom. Here they seated themselves in a row, the door being left openthus 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 elderwine, the waiting being done by him and his mother, that the little

maidservant 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

"He's quite a youngster," said the Saracen apologetically, "and you must excuse him. He's not one of the old

"But he will take something?" persisted Yeobright. "Try a glass of mead or elderwine."

"Yes, you had better try that," said the Saracen. "It will keep the cold out going homealong."

Though Eustacia could not eat without uncovering her face she could drink easily enough beneath her

disguise. The elderwine 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 someone

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 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;

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

"I cannot. At least I would rather not. I am not well enough, and we shall have plenty of time together now

"Just a little, my old cousinhere," she said, playfully sweeping her hand across her heart.

"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

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 selfexplanatory, 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, [1] 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

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

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 noClym Yeobright came out as softly as she had done, and closed the door

He advanced and stood beside her. "I have an odd opinion," he said, "and should like to ask you a question.

His eyes lingered on her with great interest. "Do girls often play as mummers now? They never used to."

"I would gladly have asked you to our party had I known you wished to come. Have I ever been acquainted

"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

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

She herself had fixed the evening and the hour. He had probably come to the spot, waited there in the cold,

"Well, so much the betterit 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

"O that she had been married to Damon before this!" she said. "And she would if it hadn't been for me! If I

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 outhouse,

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

"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 eventsone would think you were one of the bucks I knew at oneandtwenty."

"So much the better. If I were living in a town my whole time would be taken up in looking after you. I fully

"I won't conceal what I did. I wanted an adventure, and I went with the mummers. I played the part of the

"It was my first performance, and it certainly will be my last. Now I have told youand remember it is a

"Of course. But, Eustacia, you never didha! 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

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 advancedull and lurid like a flame in sunlight and she guessed it to signify

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 heathcroppers and furzecutters 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 eye 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

"Good morning, miss," said the reddleman, taking off his cap of hareskin, and apparently bearing her no ill

"Good morning, reddleman," she said, hardly troubling to lift her heavily shaded eyes to his. "I did not know

Venn moved his elbow towards a hollow in which a dense brake of purplestemmed brambles had grown to

such vast dimensions as almost to form a dell. Brambles, though churlish when handled, are kindly shelter in

The roof and chimney of Venn's caravan showed behind the tracery and tangles of the brake.

Her face seemed to ask for an armed peace, and he therefore said frankly, "Yes, miss; it is on account of her."

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 wellknown 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

She followed him behind the dell of brambles to his wheeled dwelling into which Venn mounted, placing the

"That is the best I can do for you," he said, stepping down and retiring to the path, where he resumed the

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 onceloved

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

"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

"I am glad to hear that you can ask it," said the reddleman bluntly. "And, now I think of it, it agrees with what

"Mr. Wildeve stayed at Rainbarrow a long time waiting for a lady who didn't come."

"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

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

"How do you know that Mr. Wildeve will come to Rainbarrow again tonight?" she asked.

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

"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

"I suppose you think to serve Thomasin in some way by it. Are you as anxious as ever to help on her

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

"Yes," replied Venn gloomily. "But if you would tell me, miss, why you take such an interest in her, I should

Eustacia appeared at a loss. "I cannot tell you that, reddleman," she said coldly.

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 exengineer started like

"The meeting is always at eight o'clock, at this place," said Venn, "and here we arewe three."

Wildeve took them wonderingly. "I don't quite see what this means," he said. "How do you come here? There

"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 tallowcandle which he had brought, and sheltered it with his cap.

"Who are you?" said Wildeve, discerning by the candle light an obscure rubicundity of person in his

companion. "You are the reddleman I saw on the hill this morningwhy, you are the man who"

"If you had come from the other one I shouldn't have been surprised," murmured Wildeve as he opened the

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

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.

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

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. "Haha! 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

"Certainly. 'Twas your interest not to do anything which would send me courting Thomasin again, now she

has accepted youor 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?"

"O Lordhow 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 heathcropper. When the reddleman's figure could no longer be seen, Wildeve himself

To lose the two womenhe who had been the wellbeloved of bothwas 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

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 vanlantern 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 BloomsEnd.

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

"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

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

On that evening the interior of BloomsEnd, 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

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 worktable, drawn up within the settle, so that part

"I don't like your going out after dark alone, Tamsin," said her aunt quietly, without looking up from her

"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

"Indeed! Whatis he anxious?" Mrs. Yeobright directed a searching look upon her niece. "Why did not Mr.

"He did not wish to. You are not friends with him, he says. He would like the wedding to be the day after

"I agreed to it," Thomasin answered firmly. "I am a practical woman now. I don't believe in hearts at all. I

A letter was lying on Mrs. Yeobright's workbasket, and at Thomasin's words her aunt reopened it, and

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

"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 angrysimply because, poor

"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,

"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.

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

"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

"Well, he has beaten us," her aunt said. "It really seems as if he had been playing with you in this way in

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

Thomasin looked silently into the candleflame. "Poor Diggory!" she said, and then aroused herself to other

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

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

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 calendar

systemthe more important the day the more numerous the strands in the braid. On ordinary workingdays

she braided it in threes; on ordinary Sundays in fours; at Maypolings, 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

"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

"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 heno, I don't wish

anything. There, it is nine o'clock," she interrupted, hearing a whizz and a dinging downstairs.

Her aunt followed. When Thomasin was going up the little walk from the door to the wicketgate, Mrs.

Yeobright looked reluctantly at her, and said, "It is a shame to let you go alone."

"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 illwill. 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

A few steps further, and she looked back. "Did you call me, Aunt?" she tremulously inquired. "Goodbye!"

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. "OTamsie," said the elder, weeping, "I don't like to let you

"II am" Thomasin began, giving way likewise. But, quelling her grief, she said "Goodbye!" again and

Then Mrs. Yeobright saw a little figure wending its way between the scratching furzebushes, and

diminishing far up the valleya paleblue spot in a vast field of neutral brown, solitary and undefended

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

She had not been gone from BloomsEnd more than half an hour when Yeobright came by the meads from

"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

Clym pushed away his breakfast. "Then there is a scandal of some sort, and that's what's the matter with

"Yes. Not a scandala misfortune. I will tell you all about it, Clym. You must not be angry, but you must

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

"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 bethe

"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."

"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

"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?"

"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

"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

"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

Clym remained thinking. "I almost wish you had not had that party," he said; "and for other reasons. But I

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

"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,

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

"Is she married?" Mrs. Yeobright inquired, turning to the reddleman a face in which a strange strife of

"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

"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

"Nobody hardly. I stood right out of the way, and she did not see me." The reddleman spoke huskily, and

"A proud girl from Budmouth," said Mrs. Yeobright. "One not much to my liking. People say she's a witch,

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

"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 headstones. 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

"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

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 toneand he little thought how truly"You mistake; it

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 menthe glory of the race when it was youngare almost an

anachronism now; and we may wonder whether, at some time or other, physically beautiful women may not

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 oldfashioned 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

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

Hence, when his name was casually mentioned by neighbouring yeomen, the listener said, "Ah, Clym

Yeobrightwhat 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 tigerlily pollen and blackcurrant juice, in the

absence of watercolours. 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;

He grew up and was helped out in life. That waggery of fate which started Clive as a writing clerk, Gay as a

linendraper, 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 selfindulgence and

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

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 haircutting 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 dinnertime,

These Sundaymorning haircuttings were performed by Fairway; the victim sitting on a choppingblock 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

The conversation on Yeobright had been started by a distant view of the young man rambling leisurely across

"A man who is doing well elsewhere wouldn't bide here two or three weeks for nothing," said Fairway. "He's

"I don't see why he should have had them two heavy boxes home if he had not been going to bide; and what

Before many more surmises could be indulged in Yeobright had come near; and seeing the haircutting

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."

"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 worldwide name for yourself in

"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

"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."

"Yes, Paris must be a taking place," said Humphrey. "Grand shopwinders, trumpets, and drums; and here be

"But you mistake me," pleaded Clym. "All this was very depressing. But not so depressing as something I

next perceivedthat my business was the idlest, vainest, most effeminate business that ever a man could be

put to. That decided meI 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

nightschool in my mother's house. But I must study a little at first, to get properly qualified. Now,

"He'll never carry it out in the world," said Fairway. "In a few weeks he'll learn to see things otherwise."

"'Tis goodhearted of the young man," said another. "But, for my part, I think he had better mind his

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 advanced. 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 livingnay, wild and meagre

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

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 timeto 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

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

Was Yeobright's mind wellproportioned? 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

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 arrowheads 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.

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 flyeaten 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

He descended into the valley, and soon reached his home at BloomsEnd. His mother was snipping dead

leaves from the windowplants. 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 haircutting 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

"I am not going back to Paris again, Mother," he said. "At least, in my old capacity. I have given up the

Mrs. Yeobright turned in pained surprise. "I thought something was amiss, because of the boxes. I wonder

"I ought to have done it. But I have been in doubt whether you would be pleased with my plan. I was not

"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 ita

"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,

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 doall who deserve the namewhen

"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 vanitiesI, 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."

"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

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 establishmentwhat 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

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

The silence was broken by the clash of the garden gate, a tap at the door, and its opening. Christian Cantle

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,

"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

"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 stockingneedle, 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 stockingneedle

"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

"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.

"They say she got better, and went home very well. And now I've told it I must be moving homeward

"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

"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

Later in the day Sam, the turfcutter, entered. "I've come aborrowing, Mrs. Yeobright. I suppose you have

"Yes, tolerably wellfavoured," Sam replied. "Lord! all the country owns that 'tis one of the strangest things

"Doesn't join in with the lads in their games, to get some sort of excitement in this lonely place?"

"No. Her notions be different. I should rather say her thoughts were far away from here, with lords and ladies

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."

"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

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.

"What a cruel shame to illuse her, She must have suffered greatlymore in mind than in body."

"'Twas a graceless tricksuch 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."

"O, it was merely something which occurred to me. It would of course be necessary to see her and talk it

overnot 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."

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

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 BloomsEnd 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

"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 Vyenot so much for her good looks as for another reason."

And they parted. "There is no help for it," murmured Clym's mother gloomily as he withdrew. "They are sure

Clym's retreating figure got smaller and smaller as it rose and fell over the hillocks on his way. "He is

tenderhearted," said Mrs. Yeobright to herself while she watched him; "otherwise it would matter little.

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

On drawing near to the furzecovered bank and ditch which fortified the captain's dwelling he could hear

voices within, signifying that operations had been already begun. At the sideentrance gate he stopped and

Half a dozen ablebodied men were standing in a line from the wellmouth, holding a rope which passed

over the wellroller 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

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

"Haul!" said Fairway; and the men who held the rope began to gather it over the wheel.

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

quaintnatured mosses were revealed on the wellside as the lantern descended; till its rays fell upon a

"We've only got en by the edge of the hoopsteady, 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.

"I'm as stiff as a ram's horn stooping so long," said Fairway, standing up and stretching himself till his joints

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

"Tie a rope round himit 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

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

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

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 welltackle. 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

"No, miss; the bottom of the bucket is clean knocked out. And as we can do no more now we'll leave off, and

"I can send you up some from BloomsEnd," said Clym, coming forward and raising his hat as the men

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

"Well, it is what I call no water," she said, blushing, and lifting her longlashed 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

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."

"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

"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

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 springwater," 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."

He made fast the pail to the long coil of rope, put it over the wheel, and allowed it to descend by letting the

"I must make fast the end first, or we may lose the whole," he said to Eustacia, who had drawn near. "Could

"I can hold it," said Eustacia; and he placed the rope in her hands, going then to search for the end.

"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

"No; I think not." She opened her hands. One of them was bleeding; the rope had dragged off the skin.

"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

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

"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

"Yes, it frightened me. I had not been to church for a long time. And now I shall not go again for ever so

longperhaps never. I cannot face their eyes after this. Don't you think it dreadfully humiliating? I wished I

"I have come to clean away these cobwebs," said Yeobright. "Would you like to help meby highclass

"I don't quite feel anxious to. I have not much love for my fellowcreatures. 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

"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.

"We have met before," he said, regarding her with rather more interest than was necessary.

"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

"And there is a very curious druidical stone just out there." He threw a pebble in the direction signified. "Do

"I was not even aware there existed any such curious druidical stone. I am aware that there are boulevards in

"I remember when I had the same longing for town bustle. Five years of a great city would be a perfect cure

"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

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 lampread all the

morning, all the afternoon. Just when the sun was going down his eyes felt weary, and he leant back in his

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,

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

Clym paused a minute. "Yes, I met her this evening," he said, as though it were spoken under the sheer

"I can hardly say that I am not. Angry? No. But when I consider the usual nature of the drag which causes

"You deserve credit for the feeling, Mother. But I can assure you that you need not be disturbed by it on my

"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

"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

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

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 herwhen 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

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

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 schoolvast masses of beings, jostling,

zigzagging, and processioning in definite directions, but whose features are indistinguishable by the very

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

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 homereal skellington bonesbut '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,

"Yes. To Miss Vye. She has a cannibal taste for such churchyard furniture seemingly."

When Clym came home, which was shortly after, his mother said, in a curious tone, "The urn you had meant

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,

bumblebees flew hither and thither in the thickening light, their drone coming and going like the sound of a

On an evening such as this Yeobright descended into the BloomsEnd 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 trend. 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

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 halfsilent sittings were far from uncommon with them now. At last Yeobright made a

"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 heartswollen 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

"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

"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 selfsacrifice, and would have been by this time back again to Paris in

some business or other. I can understand objections to the diamond tradeI 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."

"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

"It would be premature to state that plainly. But consider what obvious advantages there would be in doing it.

"She is excellently educated, and would make a good matron in a boardingschool. 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

"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

"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

"Can you maintain that I sit and tell untruths, when all I wish to do is to save you from sorrow? For shame,

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

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

The next day was gloomy enough at BloomsEnd. 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."

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

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 watercourses 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

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 progresssuch,

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 countryover 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

Mountainstill 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 farremoved landscape a tawny stain grew into being on the lower vergethe eclipse

had begun. This marked a preconcerted momentfor 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.

They remained long without a single utterance, for no language could reach the level of their

conditionwords were as the rusty implements of a bygone barbarous epoch, and only to be occasionally

"I began to wonder why you did not come," said Yeobright, when she had withdrawn a little from his

"You said ten minutes after the first mark of shade on the edge of the moon, and that's what it is now."

Then, holding each other's hand, they were again silent, and the shadow on the moon's disc grew a little

"And not long? That's because you occupy yourself, and so blind yourself to my absence. To me, who can do

"I would rather bear tediousness, dear, than have time made short by such means as have shortened mine."

"Well, whatever I may have thought, one thing is certainI do love youpast all compass and description. I

love you to oppressivenessI, 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

hairbreadths make the difference between this face and faces I have seen many times before I knew you; yet

what a differencethe difference between everything and nothing at all. One touch on that mouth again!

"No, it is my general way of looking. I think it arises from my feeling sometimes an agonizing pity for myself

"No. Yet I know that we shall not love like this always. Nothing can ensure the continuance of love. It will

"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,

"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

"There, go away! Obey her. I shall ruin you. It is foolish of you to meet me like this. Kiss me, and go away

"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

"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, dearestyou must be my wife."

She startedthen endeavoured to say calmly, "Cynics say that cures the anxiety by curing the love."

"I must think," Eustacia murmured. "At present speak of Paris to me. Is there any place like it on earth?"

"I hate talking of Paris! Well, I remember one sunny room in the Louvre which would make a fitting place

for you to live inthe 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

"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

"Then you could keep to the lawn in front of the Grand Palace. All about there you would doubtless feel in a

He went on, since it was all new to her, and described Fontainebleau, St. Cloud, the Bois, and many other

"Ah, yes. I dislike English Sundays. How I should chime in with their manners over there! Dear Clym, you'll

"If you'll go back again I'llbe something," she said tenderly, putting her head near his breast. "If you'll

"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."

"No. Besides, it would interfere with my scheme. Don't press that, Eustacia. Will you marry me?"

"You will never adhere to your education plan, I am quite sure; and then it will be all right for me; and so I

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 gosee how our time is slipping, slipping,

"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

"You are ambitious, Eustaciano, 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

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, Clymthough 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

"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 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

"Please don't say such reckless things. When we see such a time at hand we will say, 'I have outlived my faith

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

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. 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

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.

When Yeobright was not with Eustacia he was sitting slavishly over his books; when he was not reading he

One afternoon his mother came home from a morning visit to Thomasin. He could see from a disturbance in

"I have been told an incomprehensible thing," she said mournfully. "The captain has let out at the Woman

"I should hardly think it WOULD be yet for a very long time! You will take her to Paris, I suppose?" She

"That's incredible! The place is overrun with schoolmasters. You have no special qualifications. What

"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

"Dreams, dreams! If there had been any system left to be invented they would have found it out at the

"Never, Mother. They cannot find it out, because their teachers don't come in contact with the class which

demands such a systemthat 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

"I might have believed you if you had kept yourself free from entanglements; but this womanif she had

"So you think. A Corfu bandmaster's daughter! What has her life been? Her surname even is not her true

"She is Captain Vye's granddaughter, and her father merely took her mother's name. And she is a lady by

"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 timeI 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

"Clym," said his mother with firmness, "I have no proofs against her, unfortunately. But if she makes you a

"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

meit is more than I dreamt!" She turned to the window. Her breath was coming quickly, and her lips were

"Mother," said Clym, "whatever you do, you will always be dear to methat 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

"How can you treat me so flippantly!" said his mother, turning again to him with a tearful look. "You are

"Very likely," said he cheerlessly. "You did not know the measure you were going to mete me, and therefore

"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 wrongheadedness. 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

Clym said huskily, "You are my mother. I will say no morebeyond 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

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

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

He was in a nest of vivid green. The ferny vegetation round him, though so abundant, was quite uniformit

was a grove of machinemade foliage, a world of green triangles with sawedges, 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 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

"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

"Poor Clym!" she continued, looking tenderly into his face. "You are sad. Something has happened at your

"Still go on as we do nowjust live on from meeting to meeting, never minding about another day. You, I

know, are always thinking of thatI can see you are. But you must notwill 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.

"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

"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."

"Ahyour 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

Clym took the hand which was already bared for himit was a favourite way with them to walk bare hand in

bare handand 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

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 coppercoloured 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

"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

"Oh how I wish I was sure of never losing youthat 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."

"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

"About six months. At the end of that time I shall have finished my readingyes, 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.

"I think he wouldon the understanding that it should not last longer than six months."

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

All that evening smart sounds denoting an active packing up came from Yeobright's room to the ears of his

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

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

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,

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

Yeobright reached the empty house about midday. 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

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

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

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

It now only remained to wish his mother goodbye. She was sitting by the window as usual when he came

"I thought you were, by your packing," replied Mrs. Yeobright in a voice from which every particle of

"And thenand then you must come and see us. You will understand me better after that, and our situation

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,

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

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

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

"Yes, Aunt. I would tell you if he were unkind." She added, blushing, and with hesitation, "HeI 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,

Auntsome to buy little things for myselfand 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?"

"You see, I had some of my own," said Thomasin evasively, "and I have not wanted any of his until lately. I

"He must be made to remember. You are aware that I have a little box full of spadeguineas, which your

uncle put into my hands to divide between yourself and Clym whenever I chose. Perhaps the time has come

"You shall, if necessary. But it is only proper that you should first tell your husband distinctly that you are

"Very well, I will....Aunt, I have heard about Clym. I know you are in trouble about him, and that's why I

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

"Hate youno," said Thomasin soothingly. "It is only that he loves her too well. Look at it quietlydo. 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 wanderera 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

"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

"There are too many better that's the agony of it. It was she, Thomasin, and she only, who led your husband

"No," said Thomasin eagerly. "It was before he knew me that he thought of her, and it was nothing but a mere

"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 willhe is

nothing more to me. And this is maternityto give one's best years and best love to ensure the fate of being

"You are too unyielding. Think how many mothers there are whose sons have brought them to public shame

"Thomasin, don't lecture meI 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 minethey 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, oneidea'd creatureI 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 sincenever attempting to mend

matters at all. I was comparatively a young woman then, and I might have had another family by this time,

"Forget it, and be soothed, dear Aunt. And I shall not leave you alone for long. I shall come and see you

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

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.

"Yes. They are taking in good things up there. Going to be a wedding." And the driver buried his face in his

Wildeve had not received an inkling of the fact before, and a sudden expression of pain overspread his face.

"She is crazy about him, so their general servant of all work tells me. And that lad Charley that looks after the

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 souland it was mainly because he had discovered

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. His might have been called the

The wedding morning came. Nobody would have imagined from appearances that BloomsEnd 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 potflowers. 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

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 struckcould 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

She covered her face with her hands. "O, it is a mistake!" she groaned. "And he will rue it some day, and

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

"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.

Towards evening Wildeve came. Since Thomasin's marriage Mrs. Yeobright had shown 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

"Thomasin has not been able to come, as she promised to do," he replied to her inquiry, which had been

"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 ponychaise, and are going to bring her back."

"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

Mrs. Yeobright hesitated, and wondered if Wildeve knew what the something was. "Did she tell you of this?"

"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?"

"One would think you doubted my honesty," he said, with a laugh, though his colour rose in a quick

"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

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 BloomsEnd 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 illwill, 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

"You need not hurry," said Mrs. Yeobright. "It will be better not to get there till after dusk, and then nobody

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 persona 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

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 BloomsEnd.

"What! Christian going too?" said Fairway as soon as he recognized the newcomer. "You've got no young

"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,

"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 gownpiece for his wife or

"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

"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 gownpiece 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

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 draperythe gownpiece, as it was

calledwhich 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

"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

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

"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."

"And I was born wi' a caul, and perhaps can be no more ruined than drowned?" Christian added, beginning to

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 pairroyal. Three of the

"The gentleman looked like winning, as I said," observed the chapman blandly. "Take it, sir; the article is

"Hawhawhaw!" 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. "II 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,

"Keep 'em, to be sure," said Fairway, "if it is only for luck. Perhaps 'twill tempt some woman that thy poor

"Keep it, certainly," said Wildeve, who had idly watched the scene from a distance.

"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 bepowerful 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

"That's a secret. Well, I must be going now." He looked anxiously towards Fairway.

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

He called to the potboy 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

"Certainly," said Wildeve carelessly. "They were only cut out by some lad with his knife, and are worth

Wildeve opened the door and looked out. The night was warm and cloudy. "By Gad! 'tis dark," he continued.

"If we should lose the path it might be awkward," said Christian. "A lantern is the only shield that will make

"Let's have a lantern by all means." The stable lantern was fetched and lighted. Christian took up his

Within the room the men fell into chat till their attention was for a moment drawn to the chimneycorner.

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

"Upon my life, it fairly startled me when the man spoke!" said Fairway, handing a candle. "Oh'tis the

"Yes, I had nothing to say," observed Venn. In a few minutes he arose and wished the company good night.

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

"So you have money to carry to Mrs. Wildeve?" said Christian's companion, after a silence. "Don't you think

"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 handand '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

BloomsEnd, some fancy nicknack 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

"How very warm it is tonight, Christian!" he said, panting, when they were nearly under Rainbarrow. "Let us

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

"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

"Yes. Do ye suppose they really be the devil's playthings, Mr. Wildeve? If so, 'tis no good sign that I be such

"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

"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 twentyfour 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 hackneycoach; 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."

"Then there was a man of London, who was only a waiter at White's clubhouse. He began playing first

halfcrown 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

"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 shirtsleeves, lost again. Began taking off his breeches, and then a lookeron 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,

"Oh, 'tis too goodit takes away my breath! Mr. Wildeve, I think I will try another shilling with you, as I am

"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.

"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

"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

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

"Well, here goes!" said Christian, beginning to unlace one boot. "I shall dream of it nights and nights, I

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 fernleaves

At length Christian lost rapidly; and presently, to his horror, the whole fifty guineas belonging to Thomasin

"I don't careI 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 threepronged 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 dicebox was

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

It was nearly eleven o'clock, when, with almost a shriek, Christian placed Yeobright's last gleaming guinea

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?"

"I don't know about that! And I say you be unmannerly! You've got money that isn't your own. Half the

"Oh?...Well, 'twould have been more graceful of her to have given them to his wife Eustacia. But they are in

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 fourwheel. While he was closing the little horn door a figure rose from behind a neighbouring bush

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

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

"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

This encouraged Wildeve. He took the box; and his three casts amounted to fortyfive.

Down went another of the reddleman's sovereigns against his first one which Wildeve laid. This time

Wildeve threw fiftyone points, but no pair. The reddleman looked grim, threw a raffle of aces, and pocketed

"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

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

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,

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 guineasThomasin's fifty, and ten of

"'Won back his watch, won back his money, and went out of the door a rich man,'" added Venn sentence by

"Five more!" shouted Wildeve, dashing down the money. "And three casts be hangedone 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 timehurrah!"

"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,

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

"I threw them awayit was a momentary irritation. What a fool I am! Herecome and help me to look for

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

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

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. Seventynine of the hundred guineas were his, Wildeve possessing only

twentyone. 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 candleflame 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

"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 heathcroppers, their heads

"Hoosh!" said Wildeve, and the whole forty or fifty animals at once turned and galloped away. Play was

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 sixhave you any

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

Venn sat still, and his companion went hither and thither till he had gathered thirteen glowwormsas many

as he could find in a space of four or five minutesupon 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

"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 dicebox, 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

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

Wildeve had lifted the box as soon as the lights were obtained, and the solitary die proclaimed that the game

"We'll change the game: the lowest point shall win the stakeit may cut off my ill luck. Do you refuse?"

"O, there they are againdamn them!" cried Wildeve, looking up. The heathcroppers 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 candlelight could have to do in these haunts at this untoward hour.

"What a plague those creatures arestaring at me so!" he said, and flung a stone, which scattered them;

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.

"Hang the glowwormsthey 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

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.

The die smacked the stone a second time. It was ace again. Venn looked gloomy, threwthe die was seen to

"Serves me rightI split the die with my teeth. Heretake your money. Blank is less than one."

"Take it, I sayyou've won it!" And Wildeve threw the stakes against the reddleman's chest. Venn gathered

When he had come to himself he also arose, and, with the extinguished lantern in his hand, went towards the

highroad. 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

carriagelamps 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,

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

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

Eustacia started when the lamp shone upon him, and Clym's arm was involuntarily withdrawn from her waist.

"YesI 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?"

Venn made a farewell obeisance, and walked back to his former position, where the byroad 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 oldfashioned wheeled nondescript belonging to the captain, and Thomasin sat in it

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'amI wish you good night," he

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 halfway through the performance the game was

continued with the money of another person; and it was an error which afterwards helped to cause more

The night was now somewhat advanced; and Venn plunged deeper into the heath, till he came to a ravine

where his van was standinga 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 northeast 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

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 youngfern 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,

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

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

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

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

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

daughterinlaw's lips whether the family guineas, which were to Mrs. Yeobright what family jewels are to

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 itthat the

"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

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 daughterinlaw

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

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

"Indeed!" said Eustacia with surprise, for Mrs. Yeobright, much to the girl's mortification, had refused to be

"I was coming on business only," said the visitor, more coldly than at first. "Will you excuse my asking

"Well, I meant yourself, privatelythough I was not going to put it in that way."

"Money from Mr. Wildeve? Nonever! 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

"You ought to have better opinions of meI 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

"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

"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 youtherefore 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

"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

"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, II should have thought twice before

"It would be better not to say that; it might not sound truthful. I am not aware that any deception was used on

his partI know there was notwhatever 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

"You injured me before my marriage, and you have now suspected me of secretly favouring another man for

"I could not help what I thought. But I have never spoken of you outside my house."

"A part of which will possibly be to set him against his mother. It is always so. But why should I not bear it

"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?"

"Don't rage at me, madam! It ill becomes your beauty, and I am not worth the injury you may do it on my

"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

"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 onehalf the temper you have shown me todayand you may before longand 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.

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

"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 BloomsEnd and inquire for her motherinlaw, 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.

"I cannot tellI cannot remember. I met your mother. And I will never meet her again."

"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

"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 ClymI cannot help expressing itthis is an unpleasant position that you have placed me in. But

you must improve ityes, say you willfor 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

"But I have quite given up that idea," said Yeobright, with surprise. "Surely I never led you to expect such a

"I own it. Yet there are thoughts which cannot be kept out of mind, and that one was mine. Must I not have a

"Well, there are things which are placed beyond the pale of discussion; and I thought this was specially so,

"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

Next day the mystery of the guineas was explained. Thomasin paid them a hurried visit, and Clym's share

"Then this is what my mother meant," exclaimed Clym. "Thomasin, do you know that they have had a bitter

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

"The worst thing I dreaded has come to pass. Was Mother much disturbed when she came to you,

Clym leant his elbow upon the post of the garden gate, and covered his eyes with his hand.

He shook his head. "Not two people with inflammable natures like theirs. Well, what must be will be."

Amid these jarring events Yeobright felt one thing to be indispensablethat 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 windowblind, 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

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

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 nightschool was one such form; and his affliction did not master his spirit as it might

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 lowclass work like

"Yes, I could," said Yeobright musingly. "How much do you get for cutting these faggots?"

"Halfacrown 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

"Darling," he said, "I am much happier. And if my mother were reconciled to me and to you I should, I think,

"I fear that will never be," she said, looking afar with her beautiful stormy eyes. "How CAN you say 'I am

"It arises from my having at last discovered something I can do, and get a living at, in this time of

"No, Clym!" she said, the slight hopefulness previously apparent in her face going off again, and leaving her

"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

expenditures by an honest occupation? The outdoor exercise will do me good, and who knows but that in a

"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

The very next day Yeobright went to Humphrey's cottage, and borrowed of him leggings, gloves, a

whetstone, and a hook, to use till he should be able to purchase some for himself. Then he sallied forth with

his new fellowlabourer 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

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 olivegreen 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

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 furzeflowers at his side in such

numbers as to weigh them down to the sod. The strange ambercoloured 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 emeraldgreen

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 fernfronds with silent ones of

homely hue. Huge flies, ignorant of larders and wirenetting, and quite in a savage state, buzzed about him

without knowing that he was a man. In and out of the ferndells 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 thinfleshed ear, and firing it to a bloodred 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 faggotbonds he would amuse his companion with sketches of Parisian

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

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 ladywife, wounded her through. Unconscious

"Le point du jour A nos bosquets rend toute leur parure; Flore est plus belle a son retour; L'oiseau reprend

"Le point du jour Cause parfois, cause douleur extreme; Que l'espace des nuits est court Pour le berger

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

"I would starve rather than do it!" she exclaimed vehemently. "And you can sing! I will go and live with my

"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."

"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

"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

"You mock me to say that now. On that point at least the only noble course would be to hold your tongue, for

"I cannot answer you. I remember saying that I should be a serious matter on your hands."

"Then you were too quick to see! No true lover would have seen any such thing; you are too severe upon me,

"Well, I married you in spite of it, and don't regret doing so. How cold you seem this afternoon! and yet I

"Yes, I fear we are coolingI 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?

"No. I don't sigh for that. There are other things for me to sigh for, or any other woman in my place."

"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 furzecutting. 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,

"Your words have no longer their old flavour. And so love dies with good fortune!"

"I cannot listen to this, Clymit will end bitterly," she said in a broken voice. "I will go home."

A few days later, before the month of August has expired, Eustacia and Yeobright sat together at their early

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

"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

"But it is so dreadfula furzecutter! and you a man who have lived about the world, and speak French, and

"I suppose when you first saw me and heard about me I was wrapped in a sort of golden halo to your eyesa

man who knew glorious things, and had mixed in brilliant scenesin short, an adorable, delightful,

"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 picnica gipsying, they call itat East Egdon, and I shall

"If you return soon enough from your work. But do not inconvenience yourself about it. I know the way

"And can you cling to gaiety so eagerly as to walk all the way to a village festival in search of it?"

"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 halfblind man, over such a woman as you?"

"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

When he was gone she rested her head upon her hands and said to herself, "Two wasted liveshis and mine.

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

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

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

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 lawnlike 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 cattletrack 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 wagon 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

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 lovelocks, 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 cattledealer'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

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 villagefull 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

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

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

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.

"Still, if you don't like to be seen, pull down your veil; though there is not much risk of being known by this

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 fiveandtwenty 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 wagon 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

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

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

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

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

"It is strange that we should have met here of all places, after missing each other so long."

"It is scarcely worth while to talk of that now. We have formed other ties since thenyou no less than I."

"Yesthat 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 furzecutter?" she said in a low,

"It has been mentioned to me," answered Wildeve hesitatingly. "But I hardly believed it."

"I think the same as ever of you, Eustacia. Nothing of that sort can degrade youyou ennoble the occupation

"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 neighbour's 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

"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

"Indeed I think no such thing," she said haughtily. "I shall accept whose company I choose, for all that may

"Then let us walk onif you are ready. Our nearest way is towards that holly bush with the dark shadow that

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

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

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

When they came a little nearer Eustacia broke the silence by saying, "One of those men is my husband. He

"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 beyou must

"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 Rainbarrowhe is in company with your husband. Which of them, seeing us together here, will

Wildeve bade her a tender farewell, and plunged across the fern and furze, Eustacia slowly walking on. In

"My journey ends here for tonight, reddleman," said Yeobright as soon as he perceived her. "I turn back with

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 nota

man in the act of withdrawing from Eustacia's sidewas 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

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

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

"He is not at home yet, Diggory," she said pleasantly. "But I expected him sooner. He has been to East Egdon

"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

"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

"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

When Wildeve returned, a quarter of an hour later Thomasin said simply, and in the abashed manner usual

"But somebody saw you at Throope Corner leading it homea beauty, with a white face and a mane as

The expression of Wildeve's face became curiously condensed. "That is a mistakeit must have been

someone else," he said slowly and testily, for he perceived that Venn's countermoves had begun again.

Those words of Thomasin, which seemed so little, but meant so much, remained in the ears of Diggory Venn:

On this occasion Venn had arrived on Egdon Heath only to cross to the other sidehe 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

At this time, as has 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 hisa 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, this species of coupdeJarnac 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 wellknown 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

"You have a very high colour, dearest," said Yeobright, when he came close enough to see it. "Your

She arose, but before she had time to get out of the room a loud rapping began upon the front door.

"I'll goI'll go," said Eustacia in an unusually quick tone for her; and she glanced eagerly towards the

"You had better not at this time of the evening," he said. Clym stepped before her into the passage, and

She listened, and Clym opened the door. No words were uttered outside, and presently he closed it and came

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. Whilst Wildeve had been preparing his mothsignal 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

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. Halfway

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

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 horseplay, which the reddleman had indulged in

for want of knowing better; but now the boundary line was passed which divides the annoying from the

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

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

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

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

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

"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

"Your visits would make Wildeve walk straighter than he is inclined to do, and might prevent unhappiness

"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

"Then there WAS an understanding between him and Clym's wife when he made a fool of Thomasin!"

"There's no harm done yet. In fact, I've persuaded Wildeve to mind his own business."

"I shall if you help me by calling and making friends with your son. You'll have a chance then of using your

"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

At this very time of the reddleman's conversation with Mrs. Yeobright at BloomsEnd another conversation

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

"You seem to take a very mild interest in what I propose, little or much," said Clym, with tolerable warmth.

"Partly of that moth whose skeleton is getting burnt up in the wick of the candle," she said slowly. "But you

"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

"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 methat is,

forget the past; and if she shows her willingness to be reconciled, meet her halfway by welcoming her to our

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

"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

Thursday, the thirtyfirst 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 largeleaved plants of a tender kind flagged by ten o'clock in the morning;

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 its mark, even the

purple heathflowers 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 watercourses, 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

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 furzecutter, ma'am, going up that

"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 furzefaggot bonds which he meant to

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,

The furzecutter 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 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 furzecutter and nothing morewearing 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,

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

The trees beneath which she sat were singularly battered, rude, and wild, and for a few minutes Mrs.

Yeobright dismissed thoughts of her own stormbroken 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

firneedles 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

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

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

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 halfclosed 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 furzehook

and the last handful of faggotbonds she had seen him gather; they had plainly been thrown down there as he

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 himhe 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

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

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

"I was rather. You need not speak lownobody will overhear us. My small servant is gone on an errand to

"O! I thought that perhaps you had locked the door because you were alone and were afraid of tramps."

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 hearthrug lay Clym asleep. Beside him were the

"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

"He is very weary. He went out at halfpast 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."

"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

Eustacia blushed for the first time that day. "Well, I am a questionable gift," she said quietly. "I thought you

"I can understand content in such a casethough 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

"Yes; but the worst of it is that though Paul was excellent as a man in the Bible he would hardly have done in

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,"

"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

"Sometimes, Eustacia, I think it is a judgment upon you. You rightly belonged to me, you know; and I had no

"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

"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

"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

"There you mistake me. I married him because I loved him, but I won't say that I didn't love him partly

"But I am not going to be depressed," she cried perversely. "I began a new system by going to that dance, and

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,

"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

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

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 boyyears

While they thus watched him a click at the gate was audible, and a knock came to the door. Eustacia went to

Her countenance changed. First she became crimson, and then the red subsided till it even partially left her

"Mrs. Yeobright. O, what she said to me that day! I cannot understand this visitwhat does she mean? And

"I am in your hands. If you think she had better not see me here I'll go into the next room."

Wildeve at once withdrew; but before he had been half a minute in the adjoining apartment Eustacia came

"No," she said, "we won't have any of this. If she comes in she must see youand think if she likes there's

something wrong! But how can I open the door to her, when she dislikes mewishes to see not me, but her

"Her knocking will, in all likelihood, awaken him," continued Eustacia, "and then he will let her in himself.

They could hear Clym moving in the other room, as if disturbed by the knocking, and he uttered the word

"Yeshe is awakehe 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

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.

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

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 faggotbonds 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

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 graventhat 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 muchClym, 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

Mrs. Yeobright spoke to him as one in a mesmeric sleep. "'Tis a long way home, my child, and we shall not

"I shall," said her small companion. "I am going to play marnels afore supper, and we go to supper at six

"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

..."If they had only shown signs of meeting my advances halfway 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!"

"O no, not at all," she said, returning to the boy's prattle. "Most people who grow up and have children talk as

"Yes, child; it is nonsense, I suppose. Are you not nearly spent with the heat?"

"Why do you, every time you take a step, go like this?" The child in speaking gave to his motion the jerk and

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

When she had seated herself he looked long in her face and said, "How funny you draw your breathlike a

lamb when you drive him till he's nearly done for. Do you always draw your breath like that?"

"You will go to sleep there, I suppose, won't you? You have shut your eyes already."

"No. I shall not sleep much tillanother day, and then I hope to have a long, long onevery long. Now can

"Rimsmoor Pond is, but Oker's Pool isn't, because he is deep, and is never dry'tis just over there."

"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 oldfashioned 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

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 wish I might go on by myself," he resumed, fearing, apparently, that he was to be pressed into some

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

Mrs. Yeobright's exertions, physical and emotional, had wellnigh 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 threefourths the whole distance from Alderworth to her own home,

where a little patch of shepherd'sthyme 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 neverending and heavyladen 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

spotdoubtless 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

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.

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

"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

"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 BloomsEnd 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

BloomsEnd. 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

"Wellif we make it so. I wonder if Thomasin has been to BloomsEnd 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

"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

"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

"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 afterwardsit will be all

"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

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 nighthawk 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 millermoths flew into the air just

high enough to catch upon their dusty wings the mellowed light from the west, which now shone across the

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'sthyme. While he stood a sound between a breathing and a moan suddenly reached

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

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 furzecutters 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,

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

"O, what is it! Mother, are you very illyou are not dying?" he cried, pressing his lips to her face. "I am

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

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

ablebodied, and his mother was thin. He clasped his arms round her, lifted her a little, and said, "Does that

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

BloomsEnd 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

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 BloomsEnd

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

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 helterskelter 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

"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

"'Tis a sure cure," said Olly Dowden, with emphasis. "I've used it when I used to go out nursing."

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

"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 eyefor all the world like a villainous sort of black currant. 'Tis to be hoped he can't

illwish us! There's folks in heath who've been overlooked already. I will never kill another adder as long as I

"Well, 'tis right to be afeard of things, if folks can't help it," said Grandfer Cantle. "'Twould have saved me

"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

"Well, there's calamities where we least expect it, whether or no. Neighbours, if Mrs. Yeobright were to die,

"No, they couldn't bring it in as that," said Sam, "unless they could prove we had been poachers at some time

"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

"I suppose that was because they always used to put the biggest fool afore," said Fairway from the fire, beside

"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

"Never mind that question, Grandfer. Stir your stumps and get some more sticks. 'Tis very nonsense of an old

"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

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

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

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 BloomsEnd, on the chance of meeting him on his

return. When she reached the garden gate she heard wheels approaching, and looking round beheld her

"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 heardabout Mr. Wildeve's fortune?"

"Well, he has come into a fortune of eleven thousand poundsuncle 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

"Well, it was known to him this morning early, for I knew it at ten o'clock, when Charley came back. Now,

"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

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

"It is a good thing for his cousin whatd'yecallher? 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

When her grandfather was gone Eustacia went on her way mechanically; but her thoughts were no longer

concerning her motherinlaw 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 sumone 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 welldressed he had been

that morninghe had probably put on his newest suit, regardless of damage by briars and thorns. And then

"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 wordsat the time scarcely regardedit 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 illwill

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 poundsa man of fair professional education, and one who

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

She remained sitting, though the fluctuation in her look might have told any man who knew her so well as

"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 againthat's all. Which way

She waved her hand in the direction of BloomsEnd. "I am going to meet my husband. I think I may possibly

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

"You seem very indifferent about it. Why didn't you tell me today when you came?" she said in the tone of a

"I did mean to tell you," said Wildeve. "But Iwell, I will speak franklyI 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 himyour fortune

"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

"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

"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

"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 moreI can't bear that."

They went on silently for a distance of two or three miles, when Eustacia said suddenly, "Haven't you come

"My way is anywhere tonight. I will go with you as far as the hill on which we can see BloomsEnd, as it is

"Don't trouble. I am not obliged to be out at all. I think I would rather you did not accompany me further.

"Very well, I will leave you." He took her hand unexpectedly, and kissed itfor 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 BloomsEnd before he

They advanced to the turfshed, 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

standersby till she came close. Then she quickly pressed her hand up on Wildeve's arm and signified to him

"It is my husband and his mother," she whispered in an agitated voice. "What can it mean? Will you step

Wildeve left her side and went to the back wall of the hut. Presently Eustacia perceived that he was

"I cannot think where she could have been going," said Clym to someone. "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

"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

"Well, it is a very ancient remedythe old remedy of the vipercatchers, 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.

"'Twas Thomasin who spoke," said Wildeve. "Then they have fetched her. I wonder if I had better go inyet

For a long time there was utter silence among the group within; and it was broken at last by Clym saying, in

The doctor did not reply at once; ultimately he said, "She is sinking fast. Her heart was previously affected,

Then there was a weeping of women, then waiting, then hushed exclamations, then a strange gasping sound,

Almost at the same moment the two watchers observed the form of a small oldfashioned child entering at

the open side of the shed. Susan Nunsuch, whose boy it was, went forward to the opening and silently

"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 brokenhearted woman and cast off by

A confused sob as from a man was heard within, upon which Eustacia gasped faintly, "That's ClymI must

When they had withdrawn from the neighbourhood of the shed she said huskily, "I am to blame for this.

"No, and that's where it all lies! Oh, what shall I do! I shall not intrude upon themI shall go straight home.

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 BloomsEnd. Wildeve was

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

She had not long been there when a man came up the road and with some hesitation said to her, "How is he

"It was very unfortunate, ma'am, that the boy Johnny should ever ha' told him his mother's dying words,

about her being brokenhearted 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

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,

"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 shinelet anything be, so that I never see another

day!...Eustacia, I don't know where to lookmy 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!"

"Yes, it was so; it is useless to excuse me! My conduct to her was too hideousI 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 beenthat'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

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. Yeobrightwords 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

selfcondemnation; 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 unyieldingshe 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

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

"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

"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

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 wornout

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

Eustacia had not been long indoors after her look at the moonlight when a soft footstep came up to the house,

"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

"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 halfseventyfive 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

"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

"But I am not worth receiving further proof even of Heaven's reprobation. Do you think, Thomasin, that she

knew methat 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 hera 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 brokenhearted 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?"

"But try to be quietplease do, and you will soon be strong. If you could remove that impression from your

"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?"

"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

"Yes, yes. Of course. Ah, Cousin Tamsie, you will get over your troubleone little month will take you

through it, and bring something to console you; but I shall never get over mine, and no consolation will

"Clym, you are unjust to yourself. Depend upon it, Aunt thought kindly of you. I know that, if she had lived,

"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 brokenhearted woman, cast off by my son.' My

door has always been open to hera 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

"Let me talk to you instead for the little time I shall be here," Thomasin said soothingly. "Consider what a

onesided 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

"Damon set me down at the end of the lane. He has driven into East Egdon on business, and he will come and

Accordingly they soon after heard the noise of wheels. Wildeve had come, and was waiting outside with his

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, startled ever so little, and

"I am wretched....O Damon," she said, bursting into tears, "II can't tell you how unhappy I am! I can

"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

"Well, wait till he is better, and trust to chance. And when you tell, you must only tell partfor his own

"Yes; it must be concealed, seeing what has been whispered. How much easier are hasty actions than

"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. Goodbye."

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

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

"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, 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

"Yes, sir. Only Mr. Wildeve is twanky because 'tisn't a boythat's what they say in the kitchen, but I was not

"Yes, I know 'twas the same day; for she said, 'I be going to see him, Christian; so I shall not want any

Yeobright regarded Christian with intense surprise. "Why did you never mention this?" he said. "Are you

"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 I have been wondering why she should have walked in the heath on that hot day! Well, did she say

"Yes, Mister Clym. She didn't say it to me, though I think she did to one here and there."

"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"

"Diggory, the reddleman. He called upon her and sat with her the evening before she set out to see you. I

"I must see VennI wish I had known it before," said Clym anxiously. "I wonder why he has not come to

"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

"I am a good hand at hunting up folk by day," said Christian, looking dubiously round at the declining light;

"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

"Inquire as much as you can tomorrow without neglecting your work," said Yeobright. "Don't come again till

The next day Yeobright set out for the old house at BloomsEnd, 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

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

As he surveyed the rooms he felt strongly disinclined for the alterations which would have to be made in the

timehonoured furnishing of his parents and grandparents, to suit Eustacia's modern ideas. The gaunt

oakcased 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 dumbwaiter; the wooden tea trays; the hanging fountain with the brass tapwhither would

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

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."

Venn regarded him, and then said, "If I didn't see your face I could never believe your words. Have you been

"Well, the change! When I parted from her a month ago everything seemed to say that she was going to begin

"You say right, no doubt. Trouble has taught you a deeper vein of talk than mine. All I meant was regarding

"Perhaps through my living too long. I have had a bitter experience on that score this last month, Diggory.

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

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.

"Yes. And it must have been on account of what we said that she was on the heath. Without question she was

"But why should she come to see me if she felt so bitterly against me? There's the mystery."

"But, Diggorywould a woman, who had quite forgiven her son, say, when she felt herself ill on the way to

"What I know is that she didn't blame you at all. She blamed herself for what had happened, and only herself.

"You had it from her lips that I had NOT illtreated her; and at the same time another had it from her lips that

I HAD illtreated 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

"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 deadjust once, a bare minute, even through a

screen of iron bars, as with persons in prisonwhat we might learn! How many who now ride smiling would

hide their heads! And this mysteryI should then be at the bottom of it at once. But the grave has forever

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

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

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 gardenpalings 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 lefthand 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

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 abed 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 windowsill, which he could reach with his walking stick; and in three or four

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

Yeobright overcame his repugnance, for Susan had at least borne his mother no illwill. He asked kindly for

"I wish to see him," continued Yeobright, with some hesitation, "to ask him if he remembers anything more

She regarded him in a peculiar and criticizing manner. To anybody but a halfblind man it would have said,

She called the boy downstairs, asked Clym to sit down on a stool, and continued, "Now, Johnny, tell Mr.

"You have not forgotten how you walked with the poor lady on that hot day?" said Clym.

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

Clym started up, and Susan smiled in an expectant way which did not embellish her face; it seemed to mean,

"No, Mother; because I didn't like to tell 'ee I had been so far. I was picking blackhearts, and went further

"The poor lady went and knocked at your door, and the lady with black hair looked out of the side window at

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

"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 furzehook and looked at it, and put it down again, and then she looked at the

faggotbonds; 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

"O!" murmured Clym, in a low tone, and bowed his head. "Let's have more," he said.

The woman looked at Yeobright, and beheld him colourless, in a cold sweat. "Isn't there meaning in it?" she

"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

"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

"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'sMay all

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.

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 doorstone 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

The noise of his arrival must have aroused her, for when he opened the door she was standing before the

looking glass in her nightdress, 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

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 nightgown. She made no reply.

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?"

"Your face, my dear; your face. Or perhaps it is the pale morning light which takes your colour away? Now I

"There's reason for ghastliness. Eustacia, you have held my happiness in the hollow of your hand, and like a

She started back from the dressingtable, 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."

"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

A shudder overcame her and shook the light fabric of her nightdress 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 muchtoo 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 medo you hear?"

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,

"What are you going to do?" she said in a low voice, regarding him with a proud smile. "You will not alarm

Instead of letting go he drew her closer to him. "Tell me the particulars ofmy mother's death," he said in a

"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.

"PhewI shall not kill you," he said contemptuously, as if under a sudden change of purpose. "I did think of

it; butI shall not. That would be making a martyr of you, and sending you to where she is; and I would

"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 dooryou looked out of the window upon heryou had a man in the house with youyou

sent her away to die. The inhumanitythe treacheryI will not touch youstand away from meand

"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

"By my wretched soul you sting me, Eustacia! I can keep it up, and hotly too. Now, then, madam, tell me his

"How often does he write to you? Where does he put his letterswhen does he meet you? Ah, his letters! Do

"Then I'll find it myself." His eyes had fallen upon a small desk that stood near, on which she was

Without another word he seized the desk and dashed it to the floor. The hinge burst open, and a number of

"Stay!" said Eustacia, stepping before him with more excitement than she had hitherto shown.

She looked at the letters as they lay, checked her feeling and moved indifferently aside; when he gathered

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

"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 wellfinished and fullblown adept in a certain

He searched further, but found nothing more. "What was in this letter?" he said.

"Do you brave me? do you stand me out, mistress? Answer. Don't look at me with those eyes if you would

"I wouldn't tell you after this, if I were as innocent as the sweetest babe in heaven!"

"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

"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 loverI will give you the

benefit of the doubt in that matter, for it only affects me personally. But the otherhad you halfkilled me,

had it been that you wilfully took the sight away from these feeble eyes of mine, I could have forgiven you.

"Say no more. I will do without your pity. But I would have saved you from uttering what you will regret."

"You need not go, as I am going myself. You will keep just as far away from me by staying here."

"Call her to mindthink of herwhat goodness there was in herit 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,

"You exaggerate fearfully," she said in a faint, weary voice; "but I cannot enter into my defenceit 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 cherishingto put me into a hut like this, and keep me like the

wife of a hind? You deceived menot by words, but by appearances, which are less seen through than

words. But the place will serve as well as any otheras somewhere to pass frominto my grave." Her

"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

"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 relentlessthere's a limit to the cruelty of savages! I have held

out longbut you crush me down. I beg for mercyI cannot bear this any longerit is inhuman to go

further with this! If I hadkilled yourmother with my own handI 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 gameI

beg you to stay your hand in pity!...I confess that Iwilfully did not undo the door the first time she

knockedbutI 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 crimetowards HER. Best

natures commit bad faults sometimes, don't they?I think they do. Now I will leave youfor ever and

"I cannot tell," she said desperately through her sobbing. "Don't insist furtherI cannot tell. I am going from

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

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

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,

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

"What a mockery!" said Clym. "This unhappy marriage of mine to be perpetuated in that child's name!"

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

"No, ma'am," said the lad in a flutter of feeling; "he's gone to Weatherbury, and won't be home till night. And

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

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 himas 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, Charleyyou have followed me. You did not think when I left home in

"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 oldfashioned horsehair settee as large as a donkey wagon. She lay down here, and Charley

He vanished, and she heard a splitting of wood and a blowing of bellows; and presently he returned, saying,

He lit the fire, Eustacia dreamily observing him from her couch. When it was blazing up he said, "Shall I

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

He did so, and retired to the door; when, however, he perceived that she did not move he came back a few

"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

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."

"Ah, so I did. Why did I do that? My mind is lostit had to do with the mumming, had it not?"

She again became utterly downcast; and Charley, seeing that she was not going to eat or drink any more, took

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

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

"If I could only do it!" she said. "It would be doing much good to myself and all connected with me, and no

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 timesoftly and stealthily nowand entered her grandfather's room, her

The instant quashing of her purpose by their absence affected her brain as a sudden vacuum affects the

bodyshe 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.

"And I could not bear to leave them in your way. There was meaning in your look at them."

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

"Why should I not die if I wish?" she said tremulously. "I have made a bad bargain with life, and I am weary

of itweary. 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,

"You need not fear. The moment has passed. I promise." She then went away, entered the house, and lay

Later in the afternoon her grandfather returned. He was about to question her categorically, but on looking at

"Yes, it is too bad to talk of," she slowly returned in answer to his glance. "Can my old room be got ready for

He did not ask what it all meant, or why she had left her husband, but ordered the room to be prepared.

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 this reason he busily endeavoured to provide her with pleasant distractions, bringing home curious

objects which he found in the heath, such as white trumpetshaped mosses, redheaded lichens, stone

arrowheads 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 spyglass, as she had been in the habit of doing before her marriage. One day she

saw, at a place where the highroad crossed the distant valley, a heavily laden wagon 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

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,

"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 furzestumps, thorntree roots, and other solid

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

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

"Well done, Charley!" said Captain Vye from the chimneycorner. "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

Yeobrightto 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

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'

"It will soon burn down," said Charley, rather disappointed. "Is it not a pity to knock it out?"

They stood in silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames, till Charley, perceiving that she did not

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 standingpoint outside herself, observe herself as a disinterested spectator, and think what a

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.

Why did he stay so long without advancing and looking over? Curiosity had its wayshe ascended one or

Wildeve was before her. He had come forward after throwing the last pebble, and the fire now shone into

"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

"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!"

Her usually quiet breathing had grown quicker with his words. "II" she began, and then burst into

quivering sobs, shaken to the very heart by the unexpected voice of pitya sentiment whose existence in

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

"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

"I did not send for youdon't forget it, Damon; I am in pain, but I did not send for you! As a wife, at least,

"Never mindI came. O, Eustacia, forgive me for the harm I have done you in these two past years! I see

"Ah, your generosity may naturally make you say that. But I am the culprit. I should either have done more or

"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 thiscan 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

"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 aboutor act uponuntil

you say I may. I know my duty to Thomasin quite as well as I know my duty to you as a woman unfairly

"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."

"Well, let me know when you wish to go. We shall be at our present house till December; after that we

"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 loverthat 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

"Now please go away. If I decide on this escape I can only meet you once more unlessI cannot go without

Wildeve slowly went up the steps and descended into the darkness on the other side; and as he walked he

Yeobright was at this time at BloomsEnd, 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

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 flowerbeds 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

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

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

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

"Tamsin, have you heard that Eustacia is not with me. now?" he said when they had sat down again.

"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

"All this, and I not knowing it!" murmured Thomasin in an awestruck tone, "Terrible! What could have made

herO, Eustacia! And when you found it out you went in hot haste to her? Were you too cruel?or is she

"Make it up againif a quarrel so deadly can ever be made up. I almost wish you had not told me. But do try

"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

"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

"She says herself that she did not. But the fact remains that keep her out she did."

"It will prove her guilty, by showing that it is her habit to nourish enmity. But I do not think that for a

"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

"Why didn't he take you with him? The evening is fine. You want fresh air as well as he."

"Yes, yes. Well, I have been thinking whether I should not consult your husband about this as well as you,"

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

And he left her and climbed over the hill to BloomsEnd. Before going to bed he sat down and wrote the

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 prejudiceI am

"There," he said, as he laid it in his desk, "that's a good thing done. If she does not come before tomorrow

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 wellbeloved cousin there was one

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

"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

"NoI don't mind waitingI 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 mindI 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

He looked towards her with pitying surprise. "What, do you like Egdon Heath?" he said.

"You never take me with you when you walk there. Why do you wander so much in it yourself if you so

The inquiry, though a simple one, was plainly disconcerting, and he sat down before replying. "I don't think

"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

Wildeve frowned, afterwards saying, with a forced smile, "Well, what wonderful discovery did you make?"

"Therenow you are angry, and we won't talk of this any more." She went across to him, sat on a footstool,

"Nonsense!" he said, "that's how you always back out. We will go on with it now we have begun. What did

"Don't be like that, Damon!" she murmured. "I didn't see anything. You vanished out of sight, and then I

"Perhaps this is not the only time you have dogged my steps. Are you trying to find out something bad about

"Not at all! I have never done such a thing before, and I shouldn't have done it now if words had not

"They saythey say you used to go to Alderworth in the evenings, and it puts into my mind what I have

Wildeve turned angrily and stood up in front of her. "Now," he said, flourishing his hand in the air, "just out

"Well, I heard that you used to be very fond of Eustacianothing more than that, though dropped in a

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

And no more was said, Thomasin being glad enough of a reason for not mentioning Clym's visit to her that

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 upshe 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

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; mudcoloured 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

phantasmagoriaa creature of light surrounded by an area of darkness; the moment passed, and she was

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

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 furzerick, and pulled thence a

longstemmed 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

"I was aforced 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

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 thisa 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

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

He arose, threw his boatcloak round him, opened the door, and said, "Eustacia!" There was no answer.

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

At halfpast 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

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 legendthe last plague of Egypt, the destruction of Sennacherib's host, the

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 momentshe 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 wellprovided, and now

that she thoroughly realized the conditions 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? Moneyshe 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 mistressand she knew that he loved

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

"Can I go, can I go?" she moaned. "He's not GREAT enough for me to give myself tohe does not suffice

for my desire!...If he had been a Saul or a Bonaparte ah! But to break my marriage vow for himit 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 illconceived 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

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

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

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 livingroom, 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 rejoining 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

"Did you notice, my dear, what Mrs. Eustacia wore this afternoon besides the dark dress?"

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 quilt 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 crosslines in the shape taken by the sandalstrings 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

From her workbasket in the windowseat 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

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 chimneycorner 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

It was a strange jargonthe Lord's Prayer repeated backwardsthe 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

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 BloomsEnd. 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 BloomsEnd again that

But secretly Clym had a more pleasing hope. Eustacia might possibly decline to use her penit was rather

her way to work silentlyand surprise him by appearing at his door. How fully her mind was made up to do

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 leadwork 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

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.

Light footsteps shifted their position in the porch, and he could just distinguish in a plaintive female voice the

He flushed hot with agitation. "Surely it is Eustacia!" he murmured. If so, she had indeed come to him

He hastily got a light, dressed himself, and went down. On his flinging open the door the rays of the candle

"Thomasin!" he exclaimed in an indescribable tone of disappointment. "It is Thomasin, and on such a night

"Eustacia? I don't know, Clym; but I can think," she said with much perturbation. "Let me come in and

restI will explain this. There is a great trouble brewingmy husband and Eustacia!"

"I think my husband is going to leave me or do something dreadfulI don't know whatClym, will you go

She went on breathlessly: "Then they are going to run off together! He came indoors tonight about eight

o'clock and said in an offhand 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 banknotes, 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 banknotes 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

beforeI 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

"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

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 husksdry, 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,

"No, nodon't stay for that. I'll make up the fire. Will you go at onceplease 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'sthe 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

"Only in name apparently," said Clym with rising excitement. "I believe she means to elope tonight with

"Well, she has left my house; she left about half an hour ago. Who's sitting there?"

The captain bowed in a preoccupied way to her. "I only hope it is no worse than an elopement," he said.

"Well, I have been told a strange tale. Before starting in search of her I called up Charley, my stable lad. I

"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

"Safely locked up. O no, she won't touch them again. But there are more ways of letting out life than through

a bullethole. What did you quarrel about so bitterly with her to drive her to all this? You must have treated

"Are you going with me?" said Yeobright, paying no attention to the captain's latter remark. "If so I can tell

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,

"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

"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 righthand track

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 sittingroom 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 windowpanes and breathed into the chimney strange

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 soanything 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 BloomsEnd 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 selfdefence 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

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

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 twothirds 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 heathcroppers

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

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

While she stood uncertainly looking in Thomasin heard a footstep advancing from the darkness behind her,

and turning, beheld the wellknown form in corduroy, lurid from head to foot, the lantern beams falling upon

"I thought you went down the slope," he said, without noticing her face. "How do you come back here

"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

"Mrs. Wildeve!" he exclaimed, starting. "What a time for us to meet! And the baby too! What dreadful thing

She could not immediately answer; and without asking her permission he hopped into his van, took her by the

"I have lost my way coming from BloomsEnd, 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

"Yes, of course. I will go with 'ee. But you came to me before this, Mrs. Wildeve?"

"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 heathbushes 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

"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

"It wasn't I, then. My dress is not silk, you see....Are we anywhere in a line between Mistover and the inn?"

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

"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.

"He!" said Thomasin reproachfully. "Anybody can see better than that in a moment. She is nearly two months

"O!" said Thomasin in despair. "I wish I had been there soonergive me the baby, Diggoryyou can go

"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

"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

"There are some things that cannot becannot be told to" And then her heart rose into her throat, and she

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 moneychest, 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

He then went to the stable and coachhouse 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

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

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

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 tenhatch

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 illluck," 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

At this moment a footstep approached; but the light of the lamps being in a different direction the comer was

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

While they both hung thus in hesitation a dull sound became audible above the storm and wind. Its origin was

unmistakableit was the fall of a body into the stream in the adjoining mead, apparently at a point near the

"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

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 exengineer 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

"O, my darling!" exclaimed Wildeve in an agonized voice; and, without showing sufficient presence of mind

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

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 selfcontrol. 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

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

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

"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 footbridge 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 halfway across

"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,

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

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 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

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

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

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

"Mr. Yeobright is better; but Mrs. Yeobright and Mr. Wildeve are dead and cold. The doctor says they were

"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

"Stand by the fire. Mis'ess says you be to have whatever you want, and she was sorry when she was told that

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 BloomsEnd. 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

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

"Poor master's banknotes," she answered. "They were found in his pocket when they undressed him."

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 banknotes 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

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,

Venn told. Charley's only utterance was a feeble, indistinct sound. He stood quite still; then he burst out

"I dare say you may see her," said Diggory gravely. "But hadn't you better run and tell Captain Vye?"

"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 toowould you not,

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

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

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 figureWildeve. 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 fingertips, which were worn and sacrificed in

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 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

"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

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

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

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

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

Where should she live? The obvious place was BloomsEnd. The old rooms, it is true, were not much higher

than the betweendecks of a frigate, necessitating a sinking in the floor under the new clockcase 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

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

He did sometimes think he had been illused 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

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 inhabitantsforgotten

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

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 halfseconds 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 breakoff 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 potflowers 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 someone who had entered. "I thought you were the ghost of

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 shirtfront, light flowered waistcoat, bluespotted neckerchief, and

bottlegreen 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

"I was so alarmed!" said Thomasin, smiling from one to the other. "I couldn't believe that he had got white of

"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

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

"What shall we have to frighten Thomasin's baby with, now you have become a human being again?"

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 fiftycow dairy lie, Mr. Venn?"

"At Sticklefordabout 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 Maypoleday

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

"I can say nothing against it," she answered. "Our property does not reach an inch further than the white

"But you might not like to see a lot of folk going crazy round a stick, under your very nose?"

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 stillin these spots homage to nature,

selfadoration, frantic gaieties, fragments of Teutonic rites to divinities whose names are forgotten, seem in

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 beanstalk. 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 milkwhite zone of Maybloom; then a zone of

bluebells, then of cowslips, then of lilacs, then of raggedrobins, 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

"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

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 autumnhatched 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

She looked at him reproachfully. "You went away just when it began, Clym," she said.

"Yes, but I could not go out alone; so many people were there. One is there now."

Yeobright strained his eyes across the darkgreen 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.

"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

"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

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 conclusionthe man must be amazingly interested in

"Were you dancing with her, Diggory?" she asked, in a voice which revealed that he had made himself

"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

"He would rather not tonight," she said, and then passed by him into the house; whereupon Clym too retired

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,

At last Venn appeared to find it; whereupon he stood up and raised it to his lips. Then placing it in his

breastpocketthe nearest receptacle to a man's heart permitted by modern raimenthe ascended the valley

Clym saw little of Thomasin for several days after this; and when they met she was more silent than usual. At

"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

Clym tried to imagine Venn's choice for a moment; but ceasing to be interested in the question he went on

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

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

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 grassplat 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'sthyme, which formed a soft

Once, when engaged in this system of training, and stooping to remove bits of stick, fernstalks, 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,

"Diggory, give me my glove," said Thomasin, whose manner it was under any circumstances to plunge into

Venn immediately dismounted, put his hand in his breastpocket, and handed the glove.

"O no. I was quite glad to find you had it. Everybody gets so indifferent that I was surprised to know you

"Ah, no," she said quickly. "But men of your character are mostly so independent."

"I don't exactly know," said Thomasin simply, "except it is to cover up your feelings under a practical

"Because," said she, stopping to put the little girl, who had managed to get herself upside down, right end up

"You mustn't judge by folks in general," said Venn. "Still I don't know much what feelings are nowadays. 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

"Yes, 'tis rather a rum course," said Venn, in the bland tone of one comfortably resigned to sins he could no

"Well, that's an argument I rather like, because what a man has once been he may be again." Thomasin

"O nonot much. I have made it nearly all over to the baby, as it was my duty to do, except just enough to

"I am rather glad of that," said Venn softly, and regarding her from the corner of his eye, "for it makes it

Thomasin blushed again, and, when a few more words had been said of a not unpleasing kind, Venn mounted

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.

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 tendernatured 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

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

selfpreparation for a vocation which alone seemed likely to satisfy his cravingsthat of an itinerant

preacher of the eleventh commandment. It was difficult to believe that Thomasin would be cheered by a

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,"

"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."

"I suppose nobody can overhear us?" she went on, casting her eyes around and lowering her voice. "Well,

first you will promise me thisthat you won't be angry and call me anything harsh if you disagree with what

Yeobright promised, and she continued: "What I want is your advice, for you are my relationI mean, a sort

"Well, yes, I suppose I am; a sort of guardian. In fact, I am, of course," he said, altogether perplexed as to her

"I am thinking of marrying," she then observed blandly. "But I shall not marry unless you assure me that you

"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. AhI noticed when he attended you last time!"

"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,

"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 anybodythat 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

"I am not fit for town lifeso very rural and silly as I always have been. Do not you yourself notice my

"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."

"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

"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.

"O noI don't want to be rebellious in that way," she said sadly. "I had no business to think of himI ought

to have thought of my family. What dreadfully bad impulses there are in me!" Her lips trembled, and she

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

When next they met she said abruptly, "He is much more respectable now than he was then!"

"Well, Thomasin, perhaps I don't know all the particulars of my mother's wish. So you had better use your

"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

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

"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

chimleycorners where there need be only one. You could get her away from him now, 'tis my belief, if you

"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; when 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 nightschool;

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.

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 twentyfifth 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

* The writer may state here that the original conception of the story did not design a marriage between

Thomasin and Venn. He was to have retained his isolated and weird character to the last, and to have

disappeared mysteriously from the heath, nobody knowing whitherThomasin remaining a widow. But

Readers can therefore choose between the endings, and those with an austere artistic code can assume the

Anybody who had passed through BloomsEnd 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

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 turfcutters. 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.

"Yes, Sam," said Grandfer Cantle, as a man too busy to waste words. "Shall I stretch this corner a shade

Fairway replied, and the waxing went on with unabated vigour. "'Tis going to be a good bed, by the look o't,"

"'Tis a present for the new folks that's going to set up housekeeping," said Christian, who stood helpless and

"Beds be dear to fokes that don't keep geese, bain't they, Mister Fairway?" said Christian, as to an omniscient

"Yes," said the furzedealer, 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

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 BloomsEnd 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 chief 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

"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

"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

mastersuch as he isthat'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

"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

seventyone, though nothing at home, is a high figure for a rover....Ay, seventyone, last Candlemasday.

"Don't you be mournful, Grandfer," said Fairway. "Empt some more feathers into the bedtick, and keep up

yer heart. Though rather lean in the stalks you be a greenleaved old man still. There's time enough left to ye

"Begad, I'll go to 'em, Timothyto 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,

'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 pounds 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 cornercupboard if canst reach, man, and I'll draw a drap o' sommat

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

"Upon my soul I shall be chokt," said Fairway when, having extracted a feather from his mouth, he found

"I've swallered several; and one had a tolerable quill," said Sam placidly from the corner.

"Hullowhat's thatwheels I hear coming?" Grandfer Cantle exclaimed, jumping up and hastening to the

door. "Why, 'tis they back againI didn't expect 'em yet this halfhour. To be sure, how quick marrying can

"O yes, it can soon be DONE," said Fairway, as if something should be added to make the statement

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 bridalparty.

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

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

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

"I wish I could be there without dashing your spirits," he said. "But I might be too much like the skull at the

"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 companythere, that's the truth of it. I shall always be coming

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 repinethere was still more than enough of an unambitious sort

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 goodbye 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

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,

"Charley, I have not seen you for a length of time," said Yeobright. "Do you often walk this way?"

"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

"I wish, Mr. Yeobright, you could give me something to keep that once belonged to herif 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

They walked towards BloomsEnd together. When they reached the front it was dark, and the shutters were

The two went round and ascended the crooked stair in darkness till Clym's sittingroom 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 tissuepaper 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

"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

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!"

"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

"No, not a bit in the world. Now they are all holding up their glasses and drinking somebody's health."

"No, 'tis Mr. and Mrs. Venn's, because he is making a hearty sort of speech. Therenow Mrs. Venn has got

"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

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 fourwheeled 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

"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

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

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 thirtythree.

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

"'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 openair 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 elsewherefrom

the steps and porticoes of town halls, from marketcrosses, 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