“O no. I am only going to the gate.”
She arose, but before she had time to get out of the room a loud rapping began upon the front door.
“What do you mean?”
O Thomasin!”
“O, not by talking—by a plan of mine called the silent system.”
“I hope you’ll succeed.”
I’ll go.”
“I am only thinking.”
“What of?”
“What have you to blame yourself about?”
“She is getting old, and her life is lonely, and I am her only son.”
“She has Thomasin.”
“Three people.”
“Five,” Eustacia thought; but she kept that in.
5 - The Journey across the Heath
The labourer pointed out the direction, and added, “Do you see that furze-cutter, ma’am, going up that footpath yond?”
Mrs. Yeobright strained her eyes, and at last said that she did perceive him.
He’s going to the same place, ma’am.”
6 - A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian
“I hope you reached home safely?” said Wildeve.
“O yes,” she carelessly returned.
“Then Clym is not at home?”
“Yes, he is.”
“No—here is my husband.”
“The fates have not been kind to you, Eustacia Yeobright.”
“I have nothing to thank them for.”
“Nor has he—except for their one great gift to him.”
“What’s that?”
Wildeve looked her in the eyes.
Eustacia blushed for the first time that day.
“I am glad to hear that he’s so grand in character as that.”
“And you only married him on that account?”
“You have dropped into your old mournful key.”
“I thought to speak to him; but it is unnecessary, Eustacia, if I offend you by not forgetting you, you are right to mention it; but do not talk of spurning.”
Her countenance changed. First she became crimson, and then the red subsided till it even partially left her lips.
“Who is it?”
“I am in your hands. If you think she had better not see me here I’ll go into the next room.”
“Well, yes—go.”
Mrs. Yeobright knocked again more loudly.
“This is your first visit here; let it be your last.
Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” said Wildeve. “I have had all I came for, and I am satisfied.”
“A sight of you. Upon my eternal honour I came for no more.”
“No, he never comes; nor my son either, nor anybody.”
“Is that a bad sight?”
“What is it you say?”
“Never again—never! Not even if they send for me!”
“O no, not at all,” she said, returning to the boy’s prattle.
“Yes. But not so much as you be.”
“Ah, I am exhausted from inside.”
“Why do you, every time you take a step, go like this?” The child in speaking gave to his motion the jerk and limp of an invalid.
“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.”
Mrs. Yeobright made no reply.
“What shall I tell Mother?” the boy continued.
“I thought you had been dreaming,” said she.
“I don’t like you going tonight.”
“Why not tonight?”
“My mother is not vindictive,” said Clym, his colour faintly rising.
8 - Eustacia Hears of Good Fortune, and Beholds Evil
“No,” said Eustacia blankly.
“Had him, indeed!”
Eustacia made no reply, but she looked as if she could say as much upon that subject as he if she chose.
“He is paid for his pastime, isn’t he? Three shillings a hundred, I heard.”
“Clym has money,” she said, colouring, “but he likes to earn a little.”
“By not letting in Mrs. Yeobright.”
“I hope that visit of mine did you no harm.”
“Yes, if she cares to. She may prefer to stay at home.”
“I am not blaming you,” she said quickly.
O, Damon, don’t reproach me any more—I can’t bear that.”
“Don’t trouble. I am not obliged to be out at all.
“It is a serious case,” said Wildeve.
“It is all over,” said the doctor.
“Was she not admitted to your house after all?”
Wildeve inquired.
book five
THE DISCOVERY
1 - “Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery”
“Is he light-headed, ma’am?”
“Why do you say so?”
“I cannot help feeling that I did my best to kill her.”
“No, Clym.”
“That doesn’t make the loss of mine less. Yet it is less the loss than the circumstances of the loss. I sinned against her, and on that account there is no light for me.”
“She sinned against you, I think.”
I have been here before, but you don’t remember it.”
“And then I became calm.”
“Yes, for four days.”
If you could remove that impression from your mind—“
“Yes.”
“Don’t press such a question, dear Clym.”
“Well?”
You are ill yourself.”
If I could only have saved you from it all!”
“Which part should I keep back?”
2 - A Lurid Light Breaks in upon a Darkened Understanding
“Yes, Mister Clym.”
“Have you dug up the potatoes and other roots?”
“Yes, sure, Mr. Yeobright.”
“Did you see my mother the day before she died?”
“No, I did not.”
Yeobright’s face expressed disappointment.
“But I zeed her the morning of the same day she died.”
Clym’s look lighted up. “That’s nearer still to my meaning,” he said.
“Yes, Mister Clym. She didn’t say it to me, though I think she did to one here and there.”
middle of the path to Mistover, and your mother came up,
looking as pale—“
“Last summer, in my dream.”
“Pooh! Who’s the man?”
“I am a good hand at hunting up folk by day,” said Christian, looking dubiously round at the declining light;
“but as to night-time, never is such a bad hand as I, Mister Yeobright.”
“Good morning,” said the reddleman. “Is Mrs. Yeobright at home?”
Yeobright looked upon the ground. “Then you have not seen Christian or any of the Egdon folks?” he said.
I called here the day before I left.”
“And you have heard nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“My mother is—dead.”
“Dead!” said Venn mechanically.
“I had an illness.”
My life creeps like a snail.”
“About me?”
“No,” said the boy.
“That can’t be.”
“At your house.”
“Attend, and speak the truth!” said Clym sternly.
“What did she do at my house?”
“You never told me this before?” said Susan.
“What did she do then?” said Yeobright.
The boy’s mother turned to Clym and said, “This is something you didn’t expect?”
Yeobright took no more notice of her than if he had been of stone. “Go on, go on,” he said hoarsely to the boy.
“Let’s have more,” he said.
“Silence!” said Clym fiercely. And, turning to the boy, “And then you left her to die?”
“’Cast off by my son!’ No, by my best life, dear mother, it is not so! But by your son’s, your son’s—May all murderesses get the torment they deserve!”
3 - Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning
“I see it in your face.”
“Speak to me,” said Yeobright peremptorily.
“Why?”
“O, that is ghastly!”
“What?”
“Your laugh.”
“What do you mean?”
the particulars of—my mother’s death,” he said in a hard,
“Kill you! Do you expect it?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“’Tis too much—but I must spare you.”
“Poor charity.”
“Never, I am resolved.”
“I do not.”
“Unlock this!”
“You have no right to say it. That’s mine.”
“Do you say it to me—do you?” she gasped.
“Which you are not.”
“I cannot tell,” she said desperately through her sobbing. “Don’t insist further—I cannot tell. I am going from this house. We cannot both stay here.”
“Where?”
“Where I came from, or ELSEWHERE.”
“I do.”
“What a mockery!” said Clym. “This unhappy marriage of mine to be perpetuated in that child’s name!”
