The　result　was　that　in　the　end　the　Valiant　Soldier；　of　the　Christian　army；　was　distinguished　by　no　peculiarity　of　accoutrement　from　the　Turkish　Knight；　and　what　was　worse；　on　a　casual　view　Saint　George　himself　might　be　mistaken　for　his　deadly　enemy；　the　Saracen。　　The　guisers　themselves；　though　inwardly　regretting　this　confusion　of　persons；　could　not　afford　to　offend　those　by　whose　assistance　they　so　largely　profited；　and　the　innovations　were　allowed　to　stand。
  There　was；　it　is　true；　a　limit　to　this　tendency　to　uniformity。　　The　Leech　or　Doctor　preserved　his　character　intact—his　darker　habiliments；　peculiar　hat；　and　the　bottle　of　physic　slung　under　his　arm；　could　never　be　mistaken。　　And　the　same　might　be　said　of　the　conventional　figure　of　Father　Christmas；　with　his　gigantic　club；　an　older　man；　who　acpanied　the　band　as　general　protector　in　long　night　journeys　from　parish　to　parish；　and　was　bearer　of　the　purse。
  Seven　o’clock；　the　hour　of　the　rehearsal；　came　round；　and　in　a　short　time　Eustacia　could　hear　voices　in　the　fuelhouse。　　To　dissipate　in　some　trifling　measure　her　abiding　sense　of　the　murkiness　of　human　life　she　went　to　the　“linhay”　or　lean…to　shed；　which　formed　the　root…store　of　their　dwelling　and　abutted　on　the　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　scene。
  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　furze…and　turf…cutters；　were　there　looking　on；　so　also　was　Timothy　Fairway；　who　leant　against　the　wall　and　prompted　the　boys　from　memory；　interspersing　among　the　set　words　remarks　and　anecdotes　of　the　superior　days　when　he　and　others　were　the　Egdon　mummers…elect　that　these　lads　were　now。
  “Well；　ye　be　as　well　up　to　it　as　ever　ye　will　be；”　he　said。
  “Not　that　such　mumming　would　have　passed　in　our　time。　　Harry　as　the　Saracen　should　strut　a　bit　more；　and　John　needn’t　holler　his　inside　out。　　Beyond　that　perhaps　you’ll　do。　　Have　you　got　all　your　clothes　ready？”
  “We　shall　by　Monday。”
  “Your　first　outing　will　be　Monday　night；　I　suppose？”
  “Yes。　At　Mrs。　Yeobright’s。”
  “Oh；　Mrs。　Yeobright’s。　What　makes　her　want　to　see　ye？　　I　should　think　a　middle…aged　woman　was　tired　of　mumming。”
  “She’s　got　up　a　bit　of　a　party；　because　‘tis　the　first　Christmas　that　her　son　Clym　has　been　home　for　a　long　time。”
  “To　be　sure；　to　be　sure—her　party！　I　am　going　myself。
  I　almost　forgot　it；　upon　my　life。”
  Eustacia’s　face　flagged。　　There　was　to　be　a　party　at　the　Yeobrights’；　she；　naturally；　had　nothing　to　do　with　it。　　She　was　a　stranger　to　all　such　local　gatherings；　and　had　always　held　them　as　scarcely　appertaining　to　her　sphere。　　But　had　she　been　going；　what　an　opportunity　would　have　been　afforded　her　of　seeing　the　man　whose　influence　was　penetrating　her　like　summer　sun！　To　increase　that　influence　was　coveted　excitement；　to　cast　it　off　might　be　to　regain　serenity；　to　leave　it　as　it　stood　was　tantalizing。
  The　lads　and　men　prepared　to　leave　the　premises；　and　Eustacia　returned　to　her　fireside。　　She　was　immersed　in　thought；　but　not　for　long。　　In　a　few　minutes　the　lad　Charley；　who　had　e　to　ask　permission　to　use　the　place；　returned　with　the　key　to　the　kitchen。　　Eustacia　heard　him；　and　opening　the　door　into　the　passage　said；　“Charley；　e　here。”
  The　lad　was　surprised。　　He　entered　the　front　room　not　without　blushing；　for　he；　like　many；　had　felt　the　power　of　this　girl’s　face　and　form。
  She　pointed　to　a　seat　by　the　fire；　and　entered　the　other　side　of　the　chimney…corner　herself。　　It　could　be　seen　in　her　face　that　whatever　motive　she　might　have　had　in　asking　the　youth　indoors　would　soon　appear。
  “Which　part　do　you　play；　Charley—the　Turkish　Knight；　do　you　not？”　inquired　the　beauty；　looking　across　the　smoke　of　the　fire　to　him　on　the　other　side。
  “Yes；　miss；　the　Turkish　Knight；”　he　replied　diffidently。
  “Is　yours　a　long　part？”
  “Nine　speeches；　about。”
  “Can　you　repeat　them　to　me？　　If　so　I　should　like　to　hear　them。”
  The　lad　smiled　into　the　glowing　turf　and　began—
  “Here　e　I；　a　Turkish　Knight；
  Who　learnt　in　Turkish　land　to　fight；”
  continuing　the　discourse　throughout　the　scenes　to　the　concluding　catastrophe　of　his　fall　by　the　hand　of　Saint　George。
  Eustacia　had　occasionally　heard　the　part　recited　before。　　When　the　lad　ended　she　began；　precisely　in　the　same　words；　and　ranted　on　without　hitch　or　divergence　till　she　too　reached　the　end。　　It　was　the　same　thing；　yet　how　different。　　Like　in　form；　it　had　the　added　softness　and　finish　of　a　Raffaelle　after　Perugino；　which；　while　faithfully　reproducing　the　original　subject；　entirely　distances　the　original　art。
  Charley’s　eyes　rounded　with　surprise。　　“Well；　you　be　a　clever　lady！”　he　said；　in　admiration。　　“I’ve　been　three　weeks　learning　mine。”
  “I　have　heard　it　before；”　she　quietly　observed。
  “Now；　would　you　do　anything　to　please　me；　Charley？”
  “I’d　do　a　good　deal；　miss。”
  “Would　you　let　me　play　your　part　for　one　night？”
  “Oh；　miss！　But　your　woman’s　gown—you　couldn’t。”
  “I　can　get　boy’s　clothes—at　least　all　that　would　be　wanted　besides　the　mumming　dress。　　What　should　I　have　to　give　you　to　lend　me　your　things；　to　let　me　take　your　place　for　an　hour　or　two　on　Monday　night；　and　on　no　account　to　say　a　word　about　who　or　what　I　am？　　You　would；　of　course；　have　to　excuse　yourself　from　playing　that　night；　and　to　say　that　somebody—a　cousin　of　Miss　Vye’s—would　act　for　you。　　The　other　mummers　have　never　spoken　to　me　in　their　lives　so　that　it　would　be　safe　enough；　and　if　it　were　not；　I　should　not　mind。　　Now；　what　must　I　give　you　to　agree　to　this？　　Half　a　crown？”
  The　youth　shook　his　head
  “Five　shillings？”
  He　shook　his　head　again。　　“Money　won’t　do　it；”　he　said；　brushing　the　iron　head　of　the　firedog　with　the　hollow　of　his　hand。
  “What　will；　then；　Charley？”　said　Eustacia　in　a　disappointed　tone。
  “You　know　what　you　forbade　me　at　the　Maypoling；　miss；”　murmured　the　lad；　without　looking　at　her；　and　still　stroking　the　firedog’s　head。
  “Yes；”　said　Eustacia；　with　a　little　more　hauteur。
  “You　wanted　to　join　hands　with　me　in　the　ring；　if　I　recollect？”
  “Half　an　hour　of　that；　and　I’ll　agree；　miss。”
  Eustacia　regarded　the　youth　steadfastly。　　He　was　three　years　younger　than　herself；　but　apparently　not　backward　for　his　age。　　“Half　an　hour　of　what？”　she　said；　though　she　guessed　what。
  “Holding　your　hand　in　mine。”
  She　was　silent。　　“Make　it　a　quarter　of　an　hour；”　she　said
  “Yes；　Miss　Eustacia—I　will；　if　I　may　kiss　it　too。　　A　quarter　of　an　hour。　　And　I’ll　swear　to　do　the　best　I　can　to　let　you　take　my　place　without　anybody　knowing。　　Don’t　you　think　somebody　might　know　your　tongue；　miss？”
  “It　is　possible。　　But　I　will　put　a　pebble　in　my　mouth　to　make　is　less　likely。　　Very　well；　you　shall　be　allowed　to　have　my　hand　as　soon　as　you　bring　the　dress　and　your　sword　and　staff。　　I　don’t　want　you　any　longer　now。”
  Charley　departed；　and　Eustacia　felt　more　and　more　interest　in　life。　　Here　was　something　to　do：　here　was　some　one　to　see；　and　a　charmingly　adventurous　way　to　see　him。　　“Ah；”　she　said　to　herself；　“want　of　an　object　to　live　for—that’s　all　is　the　matter　with　me！”
  Eustacia’s　manner　was　as　a　rule　of　a　slumberous　sort；　her　passions　being　of　the　massive　rather　than　the　vivacious　kind。　　But　when　aroused　she　would　make　a　dash　which；　just　for　the　time；　was　not　unlike　the　move　of　a　naturally　lively　person。
  On　the　question　of　recognition　she　was　somewhat　indifferent。
  By　the　acting　lads　themselves　she　was　not　likely　to　be　known。
  With　the　guests　who　might　be　assembled　she　was　hardly　so　secure。
  Yet　detection；　after　all；　would　be　no　such　dreadful　thing。
  The　fact　only　could　be　detected；　her　true　motive　never。　　It　would　be　instantly　set　down　as　the　passing　freak　of　a　girl　whose　ways　were　already　considered　singular。　　That　she　was　doing　for　an　earnest　reason　what　would　most　naturally　be　done　in　jest　was　at　any　rate　a　safe　secret。
  The　next　evening　Eustacia　stood　punctually　at　the　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　confederate　indoors。
  He　appeared　on　the　dark　ridge　of　heathland；　like　a　fly　on　a　Negro；　bearing　the　articles　with　him；　and　came　up　breathless　with　his　walk。
  “Here　are　the　things；”　he　whispered；　placing　them　upon
  the　threshold。　　“And　now；　Miss　Eustacia—“
  “The　payment。　　It　is　quite　ready。　　I　am　as　good　as　my　word。”
  She　leant　against　the　door…post；　and　gave　him　her　hand。　　Charley　took　it　in　both　his　own　with　a　tenderness　beyond　description；　unless　it　was　like　that　of　a　child　holding　a　captured　sparrow。
  “Why；　there’s　a　glove　on　it！”　he　said　in　a　deprecating　way。
  “I　have　been　walking；”　she　observed。
  “But；　miss！”
  “Well—it　is　hardly　fair。”　　She　pulled　off　the　glove；　and　gave　him　her　bare　hand。
  They　stood　together　minute　after　minute；　without　further　speech；　each　looking　at　the　blackening　scene；　and　each　thinking　his　and　her　own