“Never！　I’ll　hold　my　tongue　like　the　very　death　that　I　don’t　mind　meeting；　even　though　I　can　clear　myself　of　half　you　believe　by　speaking。　　Yes。　　I　will！　Who　of　any　dignity　would　take　the　trouble　to　clear　cobwebs　from　a　wild　man’s　mind　after　such　language　as　this？　　No；　let　him　go　on；　and　think　his　narrow　thoughts；　and　run　his　head　into　the　mire。　　I　have　other　cares。”
  “’Tis　too　much—but　I　must　spare　you。”
  “Poor　charity。”
  “By　my　wretched　soul　you　sting　me；　Eustacia！　I　can　keep　it　up；　and　hotly　too。　　Now；　then；　madam；　tell　me　his　name！”
  “Never；　I　am　resolved。”
  “How　often　does　he　write　to　you？　　Where　does　he　put　his　letters—when　does　he　meet　you？　　Ah；　his　letters！　Do　you　tell　me　his　name？”
  “I　do　not。”
  “Then　I’ll　find　it　myself。”　　His　eyes　had　fallen　upon　a　small　desk　that　stood　near；　on　which　she　was　accustomed　to　write　her　letters。　　He　went　to　it。　　It　was　locked。
  “Unlock　this！”
  “You　have　no　right　to　say　it。　　That’s　mine。”
  Without　another　word　he　seized　the　desk　and　dashed　it　to　the　floor。　　The　hinge　burst　open；　and　a　number　of　letters　tumbled　out。
  “Stay！”　said　Eustacia；　stepping　before　him　with　more　excitement　than　she　had　hitherto　shown。
  “e；　e！　stand　away！　I　must　see　them。”
  She　looked　at　the　letters　as　they　lay；　checked　her　feeling　and　moved　indifferently　aside；　when　he　gathered　them　up；　and　examined　them。
  By　no　stretch　of　meaning　could　any　but　a　harmless　construction　be　placed　upon　a　single　one　of　the　letters　themselves。　　The　solitary　exception　was　an　empty　envelope　directed　to　her；　and　the　handwriting　was　Wildeve’s。　Yeobright　held　it　up。　　Eustacia　was　doggedly　silent。
  “Can　you　read；　madam？　　Look　at　this　envelope。　　Doubtless　we　shall　find　more　soon；　and　what　was　inside　them。　　I　shall　no　doubt　be　gratified　by　learning　in　good　time　what　a　well…finished　and　full…blown　adept　in　a　certain　trade　my　lady　is。”
  “Do　you　say　it　to　me—do　you？”　she　gasped。
  He　searched　further；　but　found　nothing　more。　　“What　was　in　this　letter？”　he　said。
  “Ask　the　writer。　　Am　I　your　hound　that　you　should　talk　to　me　in　this　way？”
  “Do　you　brave　me？　　do　you　stand　me　out；　mistress？　　Answer。　　Don’t　look　at　me　with　those　eyes　if　you　would　bewitch　me　again！　Sooner　than　that　I　die。　　You　refuse　to　answer？”
  “I　wouldn’t　tell　you　after　this；　if　I　were　as　innocent　as　the　sweetest　babe　in　heaven！”
  “Which　you　are　not。”
  “Certainly　I　am　not　absolutely；”　she　replied。　　“I　have　not　done　what　you　suppose；　but　if　to　have　done　no　harm　at　all　is　the　only　innocence　recognized；　I　am　beyond　forgiveness。　　But　I　require　no　help　from　your　conscience。”
  “You　can　resist；　and　resist　again！　Instead　of　hating　you　I　could；　I　think；　mourn　for　and　pity　you；　if　you　were　contrite；　and　would　confess　all。　　Forgive　you　I　never　can。　　I　don’t　speak　of　your　lover—I　will　give　you　the　benefit　of　the　doubt　in　that　matter；　for　it　only　affects　me　personally。　　But　the　other—had　you　half…killed　me；　had　it　been　that　you　wilfully　took　the　sight　away　from　these　feeble　eyes　of　mine；　I　could　have　forgiven　you。　　But　THAT’S　too　much　for　nature！”
  “Say　no　more。　　I　will　do　without　your　pity。　　But　I　would　have　saved　you　from　uttering　what　you　will　regret。”
  “I　am　going　away　now。　　I　shall　leave　you。”
  “You　need　not　go；　as　I　am　going　myself。　　You　will　keep　just　as　far　away　from　me　by　staying　here。”
  “Call　her　to　mind—think　of　her—what　goodness　there　was　in　her—it　showed　in　every　line　of　her　face！　Most　women；　even　when　but　slightly　annoyed；　show　a　flicker　of　evil　in　some　curl　of　the　mouth　or　some　corner　of　the　cheek；　but　as　for　her；　never　in　her　angriest　moments　was　there　anything　malicious　in　her　look。　　She　was　angered　quickly；　but　she　forgave　just　as　readily；　and　underneath　her　pride　there　was　the　meekness　of　a　child。　　What　came　of　it。？what　cared　you？　　You　hated　her　just　as　she　was　learning　to　love　you。　　O！　couldn’t　you　see　what　was　best　for　you；　but　must　bring　a　curse　upon　me；　and　agony　and　death　upon　her；　by　doing　that　cruel　deed！　What　was　the　fellow’s　name　who　was　keeping　you　pany　and　causing　you　to　add　cruelty　to　her　to　your　wrong　to　me？　　Was　it　Wildeve？　　Was　it　poor　Thomasin’s　husband？　　Heaven；　what　wickedness！　Lost　your　voice；　have　you？　　It　is　natural　after　detection　of　that　most　noble　trick。。。。Eustacia；　didn’t　any　tender　thought　of　your　own　mother　lead　you　to　think　of　being　gentle　to　mine　at　such　a　time　of　weariness？　　Did　not　one　grain　of　pity　enter　your　heart　as　she　turned　away？　　Think　what　a　vast　opportunity　was　then　lost　of　beginning　a　forgiving　and　honest　course。　　Why　did　not　you　kick　him　out；　and　let　her　in；　and　say　I’ll　be　an　honest　wife　and　a　noble　woman　from　this　hour？　　Had　I　told　you　to　go　and　quench　eternally　our　last　flickering　chance　of　happiness　here　you　could　have　done　no　worse。　　Well；　she’s　asleep　now；　and　have　you　a　hundred　gallants；　neither　they　nor　you　can　insult　her　any　more。”
  “You　exaggerate　fearfully；”　she　said　in　a　faint；　weary　voice；　“but　I　cannot　enter　into　my　defence—it　is　not　worth　doing。　　You　are　nothing　to　me　in　future；　and　the　past　side　of　the　story　may　as　well　remain　untold。　　I　have　lost　all　through　you；　but　I　have　not　plained。　　Your　blunders　and　misfortunes　may　have　been　a　sorrow　to　you；　but　they　have　been　a　wrong　to　me。　　All　persons　of　refinement　have　been　scared　away　from　me　since　I　sank　into　the　mire　of　marriage。　　Is　this　your　cherishing—to　put　me　into　a　hut　like　this；　and　keep　me　like　the　wife　of　a　hind？　　You　deceived　me—not　by　words；　but　by　appearances；　which　are　less　seen　through　than　words。　　But　the　place　will　serve　as　well　as　any　other—as　somewhere　to　pass　from—into　my　grave。”　Her　words　were　smothered　in　her　throat；　and　her　head　drooped　down。
  “I　don’t　know　what　you　mean　by　that。　　Am　I　the　cause　of　your　sin？”　（Eustacia　made　a　trembling　motion　towards　him。）　“What；　you　can　begin　to　shed　tears　and　offer　me　your　hand？　　Good　God！　can　you？　　No；　not　I。　I’ll　not　mit　the　fault　of　taking　that。”　　（The　hand　she　had　offered　dropped　nervelessly；　but　the　tears　continued　flowing。）　“Well；　yes；　I’ll　take　it；　if　only　for　the　sake　of　my　own　foolish　kisses　that　were　wasted　there　before　I　knew　what　I　cherished。　　How　bewitched　I　was！　How　could　there　be　any　good　in　a　woman　that　everybody　spoke　ill　of？”
  “O；　O；　O！”　she　cried；　breaking　down　at　last；　and；　shaking　with　sobs　which　choked　her；　she　sank　upon　her　knees。　　“O；　will　you　have　done！　O；　you　are　too　relentless—there’s　a　limit　to　the　cruelty　of　savages！　I　have　held　out　long—but　you　crush　me　down。　　I　beg　for　mercy—I　cannot　bear　this　any　longer—it　is　inhuman　to　go　further　with　this！　If　I　had—killed　your—mother　with　my　own　hand—I　should　not　deserve　such　a　scourging　to　the　bone　as　this。　　O；　O！　God　have　mercy　upon　a　miserable　woman！。。。You　have　beaten　me　in　this　game—I　beg　you　to　stay　your　hand　in　pity！。。。I　confess　that　I—wilfully　did　not　undo　the　door　the　first　time　she　knocked—but—I　should　have　unfastened　it　the　second—　if　I　had　not　thought　you　had　gone　to　do　it　yourself。　　When　I　found　you　had　not　I　opened　it；　but　she　was　gone。　　That’s　the　extent　of　my　crime—towards　HER。　Best　natures　mit　bad　faults　sometimes；　don’t　they？I　think　they　do。　　Now　I　will　leave　you—for　ever　and　ever！”
  “Tell　all；　and　I　WILL　pity　you。　　Was　the　man　in　the　house　with　you　Wildeve？”
  “I　cannot　tell；”　she　said　desperately　through　her　sobbing。　　“Don’t　insist　further—I　cannot　tell。　　I　am　going　from　this　house。　　We　cannot　both　stay　here。”
  “You　need　not　go—I　will　go。　　You　can　stay　here。”
  “No；　I　will　dress；　and　then　I　will　go。”
  “Where？”
  “Where　I　came　from；　or　ELSEWHERE。”
  She　hastily　dressed　herself；　Yeobright　moodily　walking　up　and　down　the　room　the　whole　of　the　time。　　At　last　all　her　things　were　on。　　Her　little　hands　quivered　so　violently　as　she　held　them　to　her　chin　to　fasten　her　bonnet　that　she　could　not　tie　the　strings；　and　after　a　few　moments　she　relinquished　the　attempt。　　Seeing　this　he　moved　forward　and　said；　“Let　me　tie　them。”
  She　assented　in　silence；　and　lifted　her　chin。　　For　once　at　least　in　her　life　she　was　totally　oblivious　of　the　charm　of　her　attitude。　　But　he　was　not；　and　he　turned　his　eyes　aside；　that　he　might　not　be　tempted　to　softness。
  The　strings　were　tied；　she　turned　from　him。　　“Do　you　still　prefer　going　away　yourself　to　my　leaving　you？”　he　inquired　again。
  “I　do。”
  “Very　well—let　it　be。　　And　when　you　will　confess　to　the　man　I　may　pity　you。”
  She　flung　her　shawl　about　her　and　went　downstairs；　leaving　him　standing　in　the　room。
  Eustacia　had　not　long　been　gone　when　there　came　a　knock　at　the　door　of　the　bedroom；　and　Yeobright　said；　“Well？”
  It　was　the　servant；　and　she　replied；　“Somebody　from　Mrs。　Wildeve’s　have　called　to　tell　‘ee　that　the　mis’ess　and　the　baby　are　getting　on　wonderful　well；　and　the　baby’s　name　is　to　be　Eustacia　Clementine。”　　And　the　girl　retired。
  “What　a　mockery！”　said　Clym。　　“This　unhappy　marriage　of　mine　to　be　perpetuated　in　that　child’s　name！”
  4　… The　Ministrations　of　a　Half…forgotten　One
  Eustacia’s　journey　was　at　first　as　vague　in　direction　as　that　of　thistledown　on　the　wind。　　She　did　not　know　what　to　do。　　She　wished　it　had　been　night　instead　of　morning；　that　she　might　at　least　have　borne　her　misery　without　the　possibility　of　being　seen。　　Tracing　mile　after