LITMIR.BIZ

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own past history, “I once thought of Tamsin as a sweetheart? Yes, I did. How odd boys are! And when I came home and saw her this time she seemed so much more affectionate than usual, that I was quite reminded of those days, particularly on the night of the party, when she was unwell. We had the party just the same — was not that rather cruel to her?”

      “It made no difference. I had arranged to give one, and it was not worth while to make more gloom than necessary. To begin by shutting ourselves up and telling you of Tamsin’s misfortunes would have been a poor sort of welcome.”

      Clym remained thinking. “I almost wish you had not had that party,” he said; “and for other reasons. But I will tell you in a day or two. We must think of Tamsin now.”

      They lapsed into silence. “I’ll tell you what,” said Yeobright again, in a tone which showed some slumbering feeling still. “I don’t think it kind to Tamsin to let her be married like this, and neither of us there to keep up her spirits or care a bit about her. She hasn’t disgraced herself, or done anything to deserve that. It is bad enough that the wedding should be so hurried and unceremonious, without our keeping away from it in addition. Upon my soul, ’tis almost a shame. I’ll go.”

      “It is over by this time,” said his mother with a sigh; “unless they were late, or he —”

      “Then I shall be soon enough to see them come out. I don’t quite like your keeping me in ignorance, Mother, after all. Really, I half hope he has failed to meet her!”

      “And ruined her character?”

      “Nonsense — that wouldn’t ruin Thomasin.”

      He took up his hat and hastily left the house. Mrs. Yeobright looked rather unhappy, and sat still, deep in thought. But she was not long left alone. A few minutes later Clym came back again, and in his company came Diggory Venn.

      “I find there isn’t time for me to get there,” said Clym.

      “Is she married?” Mrs. Yeobright inquired, turning to the reddleman a face in which a strange strife of wishes, for and against, was apparent.

      Venn bowed. “She is, ma’am.”

      “How strange it sounds,” murmured Clym.

      “And he didn’t disappoint her this time?” said Mrs. Yeobright.

      “He did not. And there is now no slight on her name. I was hastening ath’art to tell you at once, as I saw you were not there.”

      “How came you to be there? How did you know it?” she asked.

      “I have been in that neighbourhood for some time, and I saw them go in,” said the reddleman. “Wildeve came up to the door, punctual as the clock. I didn’t expect it of him.” He did not add, as he might have added, that how he came to be in that neighbourhood was not by accident; that, since Wildeve’s resumption of his right to Thomasin, Venn, with the thoroughness which was part of his character, had determined to see the end of the episode.

      “Who was there?” said Mrs. Yeobright.

      “Nobody hardly. I stood right out of the way, and she did not see me.” The reddleman spoke huskily, and looked into the garden.

      “Who gave her away?”

      “Miss Vye.”

      “How very remarkable! Miss Vye! It is to be considered an honour, I suppose?”

      “Who’s Miss Vye?” said Clym.

      “Captain Vye’s granddaughter, of Mistover Knap.”

      “A proud girl from Budmouth,” said Mrs. Yeobright. “One not much to my liking. People say she’s a witch, but of course that’s absurd.”

      The reddleman kept to himself his acquaintance with that fair personage, and also that Eustacia was there because he went to fetch her, in accordance with a promise he had given as soon as he learnt that the marriage was to take place. He merely said, in continuation of the story —

      “I was sitting on the churchyard wall when they came up, one from one way, the other from the other; and Miss Vye was walking thereabouts, looking at the headstones. As soon as they had gone in I went to the door, feeling I should like to see it, as I knew her so well. I pulled off my boots because they were so noisy, and went up into the gallery. I saw then that the parson and clerk were already there.”

      “How came Miss Vye to have anything to do with it, if she was only on a walk that way?”

      “Because there was nobody else. She had gone into the church just before me, not into the gallery. The parson looked round before beginning, and as she was the only one near he beckoned to her, and she went up to the rails. After that, when it came to signing the book, she pushed up her veil and signed; and Tamsin seemed to thank her for her kindness.” The reddleman told the tale thoughtfully for there lingered upon his vision the changing colour of Wildeve, when Eustacia lifted the thick veil which had concealed her from recognition and looked calmly into his face. “And then,” said Diggory sadly, “I came away, for her history as Tamsin Yeobright was over.”

      “I offered to go,” said Mrs. Yeobright regretfully. “But she said it was not necessary.”

      “Well, it is no matter,” said the reddleman. “The thing is done at last as it was meant to be at first, and God send her happiness. Now I’ll wish you good morning.”

      He placed his cap on his head and went out.

      From that instant of leaving Mrs. Yeobright’s door, the reddleman was seen no more in or about Egdon Heath for a space of many months. He vanished entirely. The nook among the brambles where his van had been standing was as vacant as ever the next morning, and scarcely a sign remained to show that he had been there, excepting a few straws, and a little redness on the turf, which was washed away by the next storm of rain.

      The report that Diggory had brought of the wedding, correct as far as it went, was deficient in one significant particular, which had escaped him through his being at some distance back in the church. When Thomasin was tremblingly engaged in signing her name Wildeve had flung towards Eustacia a glance that said plainly, “I have punished you now.” She had replied in a low tone — and he little thought how truly —“You mistake; it gives me sincerest pleasure to see her your wife today.”

      Book Three

      The Fascination

       Table of Contents

      Chapter 1

      “My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is”

       Table of Contents

      In Clym Yeobright’s face could be dimly seen the typical countenance of the future. Should there be a classic period to art hereafter, its Pheidias may produce such faces. The view of life as a thing to be put up with, replacing that zest for existence which was so intense in early civilizations, must ultimately enter so thoroughly into the constitution of the advanced races that its facial expression will become accepted as a new artistic departure. People already feel that a man who lives without disturbing a curve of feature, or setting a mark of mental concern anywhere upon himself, is too far removed from modern perceptiveness to be a modern type. Physically beautiful men — the glory of the race when it was young — are almost an anachronism now; and we may wonder whether, at some time or other, physically beautiful women may not be an anachronism likewise.

      The truth seems to be that a long line of disillusive centuries has permanently displaced the Hellenic idea of life, or whatever it may be called. What the Greeks only suspected we know well; what their Aeschylus imagined our nursery children feel. That old-fashioned revelling in the general situation grows less and less possible as we uncover the defects of natural laws, and see the quandary that man is in by their operation.

      The

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