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by his face that he expected her to feel vexed at having been sitting unseen.

      “Yes, I saw him coming up the hill,” replied Eustacia. “Why should you tell me that?” It was a bold question, considering the reddleman’s knowledge of her past love; but her undemonstrative manner had power to repress the opinions of those she treated as remote from her.

      “I am glad to hear that you can ask it,” said the reddleman bluntly. “And, now I think of it, it agrees with what I saw last night.”

      “Ah — what was that?” Eustacia wished to leave him, but wished to know.

      “Mr. Wildeve stayed at Rainbarrow a long time waiting for a lady who didn’t come.”

      “You waited too, it seems?”

      “Yes, I always do. I was glad to see him disappointed. He will be there again tonight.”

      “To be again disappointed. The truth is, reddleman, that that lady, so far from wishing to stand in the way of Thomasin’s marriage with Mr. Wildeve, would be very glad to promote it.”

      Venn felt much astonishment at this avowal, though he did not show it clearly; that exhibition may greet remarks which are one remove from expectation, but it is usually withheld in complicated cases of two removes and upwards. “Indeed, miss,” he replied.

      “How do you know that Mr. Wildeve will come to Rainbarrow again tonight?” she asked.

      “I heard him say to himself that he would. He’s in a regular temper.”

      Eustacia looked for a moment what she felt, and she murmured, lifting her deep dark eyes anxiously to his, “I wish I knew what to do. I don’t want to be uncivil to him; but I don’t wish to see him again; and I have some few little things to return to him.”

      “If you choose to send ’em by me, miss, and a note to tell him that you wish to say no more to him, I’ll take it for you quite privately. That would be the most straightforward way of letting him know your mind.”

      “Very well,” said Eustacia. “Come towards my house, and I will bring it out to you.”

      She went on, and as the path was an infinitely small parting in the shaggy locks of the heath, the reddleman followed exactly in her trail. She saw from a distance that the captain was on the bank sweeping the horizon with his telescope; and bidding Venn to wait where he stood she entered the house alone.

      In ten minutes she returned with a parcel and a note, and said, in placing them in his hand, “Why are you so ready to take these for me?”

      “Can you ask that?”

      “I suppose you think to serve Thomasin in some way by it. Are you as anxious as ever to help on her marriage?”

      Venn was a little moved. “I would sooner have married her myself,” he said in a low voice. “But what I feel is that if she cannot be happy without him I will do my duty in helping her to get him, as a man ought.”

      Eustacia looked curiously at the singular man who spoke thus. What a strange sort of love, to be entirely free from that quality of selfishness which is frequently the chief constituent of the passion, and sometimes its only one! The reddleman’s disinterestedness was so well deserving of respect that it overshot respect by being barely comprehended; and she almost thought it absurd.

      “Then we are both of one mind at last,” she said.

      “Yes,” replied Venn gloomily. “But if you would tell me, miss, why you take such an interest in her, I should be easier. It is so sudden and strange.”

      Eustacia appeared at a loss. “I cannot tell you that, reddleman,” she said coldly.

      Venn said no more. He pocketed the letter, and, bowing to Eustacia, went away.

      Rainbarrow had again become blended with night when Wildeve ascended the long acclivity at its base. On his reaching the top a shape grew up from the earth immediately behind him. It was that of Eustacia’s emissary. He slapped Wildeve on the shoulder. The feverish young inn-keeper and ex-engineer started like Satan at the touch of Ithuriel’s spear.

      “The meeting is always at eight o’clock, at this place,” said Venn, “and here we are — we three.”

      “We three?” said Wildeve, looking quickly round.

      “Yes; you, and I, and she. This is she.” He held up the letter and parcel.

      Wildeve took them wonderingly. “I don’t quite see what this means,” he said. “How do you come here? There must be some mistake.”

      “It will be cleared from your mind when you have read the letter. Lanterns for one.” The reddleman struck a light, kindled an inch of tallow-candle which he had brought, and sheltered it with his cap.

      “Who are you?” said Wildeve, discerning by the candle-light an obscure rubicundity of person in his companion. “You are the reddleman I saw on the hill this morning — why, you are the man who ——”

      “Please read the letter.”

      “If you had come from the other one I shouldn’t have been surprised,” murmured Wildeve as he opened the letter and read. His face grew serious.

      TO MR. WILDEVE.

      After some thought I have decided once and for all that we must hold no further communication. The more I consider the matter the more I am convinced that there must be an end to our acquaintance. Had you been uniformly faithful to me throughout these two years you might now have some ground for accusing me of heartlessness; but if you calmly consider what I bore during the period of your desertion, and how I passively put up with your courtship of another without once interfering, you will, I think, own that I have a right to consult my own feelings when you come back to me again. That these are not what they were towards you may, perhaps, be a fault in me, but it is one which you can scarcely reproach me for when you remember how you left me for Thomasin.

      The little articles you gave me in the early part of our friendship are returned by the bearer of this letter. They should rightly have been sent back when I first heard of your engagement to her.

      EUSTACIA.

      By the time that Wildeve reached her name the blankness with which he had read the first half of the letter intensified to mortification. “I am made a great fool of, one way and another,” he said pettishly. “Do you know what is in this letter?”

      The reddleman hummed a tune.

      “Can’t you answer me?” asked Wildeve warmly.

      “Ru-um-tum-tum,” sang the reddleman.

      Wildeve stood looking on the ground beside Venn’s feet, till he allowed his eyes to travel upwards over Diggory’s form, as illuminated by the candle, to his head and face. “Ha-ha! Well, I suppose I deserve it, considering how I have played with them both,” he said at last, as much to himself as to Venn. “But of all the odd things that ever I knew, the oddest is that you should so run counter to your own interests as to bring this to me.”

      “My interests?”

      “Certainly. ’Twas your interest not to do anything which would send me courting Thomasin again, now she has accepted you — or something like it. Mrs. Yeobright says you are to marry her. ‘Tisn’t true, then?”

      “Good Lord! I heard of this before, but didn’t believe it. When did she say so?”

      Wildeve began humming as the reddleman had done.

      “I don’t believe it now,” cried Venn.

      “Ru-um-tum-tum,” sang Wildeve.

      “O Lord — how we can imitate!” said Venn contemptuously. “I’ll have this out. I’ll go straight to her.”

      Diggory withdrew with an emphatic step, Wildeve’s eye passing over his form in withering derision, as if he were no more than a heath-cropper.

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