“She　says　herself　that　she　did　not。　　But　the　fact　remains　that　keep　her　out　she　did。”
  “Believe　her　sorry；　and　send　for　her。”
  “How　if　she　will　not　e？”
  “It　will　prove　her　guilty；　by　showing　that　it　is　her　habit　to　nourish　enmity。　　But　I　do　not　think　that　for　a　moment。”
  “I　will　do　this。　　I　will　wait　for　a　day　or　two　longer—　not　longer　than　two　days　certainly；　and　if　she　does　not　send　to　me　in　that　time　I　will　indeed　send　to　her。　　I　thought　to　have　seen　Wildeve　here　tonight。　　Is　he　from　home？”
  Thomasin　blushed　a　little。　　“No；”　she　said。　　“He　is　merely　gone　out　for　a　walk。”
  “Why　didn’t　he　take　you　with　him？　　The　evening　is　fine。
  You　want　fresh　air　as　well　as　he。”
  “Oh；　I　don’t　care　for　going　anywhere；　besides；　there　is　baby。”
  “Yes；　yes。　　Well；　I　have　been　thinking　whether　I　should　not　consult　your　husband　about　this　as　well　as　you；”　said　Clym　steadily。
  “I　fancy　I　would　not；”　she　quickly　answered。　　“It　can　do　no　good。”
  Her　cousin　looked　her　in　the　face。　　No　doubt　Thomasin　was　ignorant　that　her　husband　had　any　share　in　the　events　of　that　tragic　afternoon；　but　her　countenance　seemed　to　signify　that　she　concealed　some　suspicion　or　thought　of　the　reputed　tender　relations　between　Wildeve　and　Eustacia　in　days　gone　by。
  Clym；　however；　could　make　nothing　of　it；　and　he　rose　to　depart；　more　in　doubt　than　when　he　came。
  “You　will　write　to　her　in　a　day　or　two？”　said　the　young　woman　earnestly。　　“I　do　so　hope　the　wretched　separation　may　e　to　an　end。”
  “I　will；”　said　Clym；　“I　don’t　rejoice　in　my　present　state　at　all。”
  And　he　left　her　and　climbed　over　the　hill　to　Blooms…End。　　Before　going　to　bed　he　sat　down　and　wrote　the　following　letter：
  MY　DEAR　EUSTACIA；I　must　obey　my　heart　without　consulting　my　reason　too　closely。　　Will　you　e　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。　　e　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　e　and　explain　distracting　appearances　I　do　not　question　that　you　can　show　your　honesty　to　me。　　Why　have　you　not　e　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　weled。
  I　can　no　longer　think　of　you　to　your　prejudice—I　am
  but　too　much　absorbed　in　justifying　you。—Your　husband
  as　ever；
  CLYM。
  “There；”　he　said；　as　he　laid　it　in　his　desk；　“that’s　a　good　thing　done。　　If　she　does　not　e　before　tomorrow　night　I　will　send　it　to　her。”
  Meanwhile；　at　the　house　he　had　just　left　Thomasin　sat　sighing　uneasily。　　Fidelity　to　her　husband　had　that　evening　induced　her　to　conceal　all　suspicion　that　Wildeve’s　interest　in　Eustacia　had　not　ended　with　his　marriage。　　But　she　knew　nothing　positive；　and　though　Clym　was　her　well…beloved　cousin　there　was　one　nearer　to　her　still。
  When；　a　little　later；　Wildeve　returned　from　his　walk　to　Mistover；　Thomasin　said；　“Damon；　where　have　you　been？　　I　was　getting　quite　frightened；　and　thought　you　had　fallen　into　the　river。　　I　dislike　being　in　the　house　by　myself。”
  “Frightened？”　he　said；　touching　her　cheek　as　if　she　were　some　domestic　animal。　　“Why；　I　thought　nothing　could　frighten　you。　　It　is　that　you　are　getting　proud；　I　am　sure；　and　don’t　like　living　here　since　we　have　risen　above　our　business。　　Well；　it　is　a　tedious　matter；　this　getting　a　new　house；　but　I　couldn’t　have　set　about　it　sooner；　unless　our　ten　thousand　pounds　had　been　a　hundred　thousand；　when　we　could　have　afforded　to　despise　caution。”
  “No—I　don’t　mind　waiting—I　would　rather　stay　here　twelve　months　longer　than　run　any　risk　with　baby。　　But　I　don’t　like　your　vanishing　so　in　the　evenings。
  There’s　something　on　your　mind—I　know　there　is；　Damon。　　You　go　about　so　gloomily；　and　look　at　the　heath　as　if　it　were　somebody’s　gaol　instead　of　a　nice　wild　place　to　walk　in。”
  He　looked　towards　her　with　pitying　surprise。　　“What；　do　you　like　Egdon　Heath？”　he　said。
  “I　like　what　I　was　born　near　to；　I　admire　its　grim　old　face。”
  “Pooh；　my　dear。　　You　don’t　know　what　you　like。”
  “I　am　sure　I　do。　　There’s　only　one　thing　unpleasant　about　Egdon。”
  “What’s　that？”
  “You　never　take　me　with　you　when　you　walk　there。　　Why　do　you　wander　so　much　in　it　yourself　if　you　so　dislike　it？”
  The　inquiry；　though　a　simple　one；　was　plainly　disconcerting；　and　he　sat　down　before　replying。　　“I　don’t　think　you　often　see　me　there。　　Give　an　instance。”
  “I　will；”　she　answered　triumphantly。　　“When　you　went　out　this　evening　I　thought　that　as　baby　was　asleep　I　would　see　where　you　were　going　to　so　mysteriously　without　telling　me。　　So　I　ran　out　and　followed　behind　you。　　You　stopped　at　the　place　where　the　road　forks；　looked　round　at　the　bonfires；　and　then　said；　‘Damn　it；　I’ll　go！’　And　you　went　quickly　up　the　left…hand　road。　　Then　I　stood　and　watched　you。”
  Wildeve　frowned；　afterwards　saying；　with　a　forced　smile；　“Well；　what　wonderful　discovery　did　you　make？”
  “There—now　you　are　angry；　and　we　won’t　talk　of　this　any　more。”　　She　went　across　to　him；　sat　on　a　footstool；　and　looked　up　in　his　face。
  “Nonsense！”　he　said；　“that’s　how　you　always　back　out。　　We　will　go　on　with　it　now　we　have　begun。　　What　did　you　next　see？　　I　particularly　want　to　know。”
  “Don’t　be　like　that；　Damon！”　she　murmured。　　“I　didn’t　see　anything。　　You　vanished　out　of　sight；　and　then　I　looked　round　at　the　bonfires　and　came　in。”
  “Perhaps　this　is　not　the　only　time　you　have　dogged　my　steps。
  Are　you　trying　to　find　out　something　bad　about　me？”
  “Not　at　all！　I　have　never　done　such　a　thing　before；　and　I　shouldn’t　have　done　it　now　if　words　had　not　sometimes　been　dropped　about　you。”
  “What　DO　you　mean？”　he　impatiently　asked。
  “They　say—they　say　you　used　to　go　to　Alderworth　in
  the　evenings；　and　it　puts　into　my　mind　what　I　have　heard　about—“
  Wildeve　turned　angrily　and　stood　up　in　front　of　her。　　“Now；”　he　said；　flourishing　his　hand　in　the　air；　“just　out　with　it；　madam！　I　demand　to　know　what　remarks　you　have　heard。”
  “Well；　I　heard　that　you　used　to　be　very　fond　of　Eustacia—nothing　more　than　that；　though　dropped　in　a　bit…by…bit　way。　　You　ought　not　to　be　angry！”
  He　observed　that　her　eyes　were　brimming　with　tears。　　“Well；”　he　said；　“there　is　nothing　new　in　that；　and　of　course　I　don’t　mean　to　be　rough　towards　you；　so　you　need　not　cry。　　Now；　don’t　let　us　speak　of　the　subject　any　more。”
  And　no　more　was　said；　Thomasin　being　glad　enough　of　a　reason　for　not　mentioning　Clym’s　visit　to　her　that　evening；　and　his　story。
  7　… The　Night　of　the　Sixth　of　November
  Having　resolved　on　flight　Eustacia　at　times　seemed　anxious　that　something　should　happen　to　thwart　her　own　intention。　　The　only　event　that　could　really　change　her　position　was　the　appearance　of　Clym。　　The　glory　which　had　encircled　him　as　her　lover　was　departed　now；　yet　some　good　simple　quality　of　his　would　occasionally　return　to　her　memory　and　stir　a　momentary　throb　of　hope　that　he　would　again　present　himself　before　her。　　But　calmly　considered　it　was　not　likely　that　such　a　severance　as　now　existed　would　ever　close　up—she　would　have　to　live　on　as　a　painful　object；　isolated；　and　out　of　place。　　She　had　used　to　think　of　the　heath　alone　as　an　uncongenial　spot　to　be　in；　she　felt　it　now　of　the　whole　world。
  Towards　evening　on　the　sixth　her　determination　to　go　away　again　revived。　　About　four　o’clock　she　packed　up　anew　the　few　small　articles　she　had　brought　in　her　flight　from　Alderworth；　and　also　some　belonging　to　her　which　had　been　left　here；　the　whole　formed　a　bundle　not　too　large　to　be　carried　in　her　hand　for　a　distance　of　a　mile　or　two。　　The　scene　without　grew　darker；　mud…coloured　clouds　bellied　downwards　from　the　sky　like　vast　hammocks　slung　across　it；　and　with　the　increase　of　night　a　stormy　wind　arose；　but　as　yet　there　was　no　rain。
  Eustacia　could　not　rest　indoors；　having　nothing　more　to　do；　and　she　wandered　to　and　fro　on　the　hill；　not　far　from　the　house　she　was　soon　to　leave。　　In　these　desultory　ramblings　she　passed　the　cottage　of　Susan　Nunsuch；　a　little　lower　down　than　her　grandfather’s。　The　door　was　ajar；　and　a　riband　of　bright　firelight　fell　over　the　ground　without。　　As　Eustacia　crossed　the　firebeams　she　appeared　for　an　instant　as　distinct　as　a　figure　in　a　phantasmagoria—a　creature　of　light　surrounded　by　an　area　of　darkness；　the　moment　passed；　and　she　was　absorbed　in　night　again。
  A　woman　who　was　sitting　inside　the　cottage　had　seen　and　recognized　her　in　that　momentary　irradiation。　　This　was　Susan　herself；　occupied　in