ogether　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　something　impeded　their　thrust。
  “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；　which　was　all　that　remained　of　the　desperate　Eustacia。
  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　upon　his　arm；　and　the　two　men　followed；　till　they　reached　the　inn。
  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　tried　it　in　vain　upon　the　other　two。　　He　sighed。
  “Clym’s　alive！”　she　exclaimed。
  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　one；　the　senseless　three　were　taken　upstairs　and　put　into　warm　beds。
  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　fort　her；　he　saw　no　reason　for　waiting　longer　in　a　house　where　he　remained　only　as　a　stranger。
  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　ing　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　hearth；　and　two　women　were　bustling　about；　one　of　whom　was　Olly　Dowden。
  “Well；　how　is　it　going　on　now？”　said　Venn　in　a　whisper。
  “Mr。　Yeobright　is　better；　but　Mrs。　Yeobright　and　Mr。　Wildeve　are　dead　and　cold。　　The　doctor　says　they　were　quite　gone　before　they　were　out　of　the　water。”
  “Ah！　I　thought　as　much　when　I　hauled　‘em　up。　　And　Mrs。　Wildeve？”
  “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　ing　through　the　rain　again。”
  “Stand　by　the　fire。　　Mis’ess　says　you　be　to　have　whatever　you　want；　and　she　was　sorry　when　she　was　told　that　you’d　gone　away。”
  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　Blooms…End。　It　had　seemed　at　that　time　that　the　then　position　of　affairs　was　good　for　at　least　twenty　years　to　e。　　Yet；　of　all　the　circle；　he　himself　was　the　only　one　whose　situation　had　not　materially　changed。
  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　by　one　to　the　strings　in　a　manner　of　clothes　on　a　line。
  “What　be　they？”　said　Venn。
  “Poor　master’s　banknotes；”　she　answered。　　“They　were　found　in　his　pocket　when　they　undressed　him。”
  “Then　he　was　not　ing　back　again　for　some　time？”　said　Venn。
  “That　we　shall　never　know；”　said　she。
  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　horse　soon　dying　away　upon　the　road。
  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；　“Will　you　tell　him；　please？”
  Venn　told。　　Charley’s　only　utterance　was　a　feeble；　indistinct　sound。　　He　stood　quite　still；　then　he　burst　out　spasmodically；　“I　shall　see　her　once　more？”
  “I　dare　say　you　may　see　her；”　said　Diggory　gravely。
  “But　hadn’t　you　better　run　and　tell　Captain　Vye？”
  “Yes；　yes。　　Only　I　do　hope　I　shall　see　her　just　once　again。”
  “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　ing　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　too—would　you　not；　Diggory？　　She　looks　very　beautiful　now。”
  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　went　to　the　bedside　and　folded　back　the　sheet。
  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　plexion；　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　pelled　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　domicile　had　at　last　found　an　artistically　happy　background。
  Nobody　spoke；　till　at　length　Clym　covered　her　and　turned　aside。　　“Now　e　here；”　he　said。
  They　went　to　a　recess　in　the　same　room；　and　there；　on　a　smaller　bed；　lay　another　figure—Wildeve。　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　sacrifice