LITMIR.BIZ

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any situation which could compromise her dignity as a wife, whatever the state of her heart towards him. Women were often so.

      He went accordingly; and it happened that the time of his arrival coincided with that of Mrs. Yeobright’s pause on the hill near the house. When he had looked round the premises in the manner she had noticed he went and knocked at the door. There was a few minutes’ interval, and then the key turned in the lock, the door opened, and Eustacia herself confronted him.

      Nobody could have imagined from her bearing now that here stood the woman who had joined with him in the impassioned dance of the week before, unless indeed he could have penetrated below the surface and gauged the real depth of that still stream.

      “I hope you reached home safely?” said Wildeve.

      “O yes,” she carelessly returned.

      “And were you not tired the next day? I feared you might be.”

      “I was rather. You need not speak low — nobody will over-hear us. My small servant is gone on an errand to the village.”

      “Then Clym is not at home?”

      “Yes, he is.”

      “O! I thought that perhaps you had locked the door because you were alone and were afraid of tramps.”

      “No — here is my husband.”

      They had been standing in the entry. Closing the front door and turning the key, as before, she threw open the door of the adjoining room and asked him to walk in. Wildeve entered, the room appearing to be empty; but as soon as he had advanced a few steps he started. On the hearthrug lay Clym asleep. Beside him were the leggings, thick boots, leather gloves, and sleeve-waistcoat in which he worked.

      “You may go in; you will not disturb him,” she said, following behind. “My reason for fastening the door is that he may not be intruded upon by any chance comer while lying here, if I should be in the garden or upstairs.”

      “Why is he sleeping there?” said Wildeve in low tones.

      “He is very weary. He went out at half-past four this morning, and has been working ever since. He cuts furze because it is the only thing he can do that does not put any strain upon his poor eyes.” The contrast between the sleeper’s appearance and Wildeve’s at this moment was painfully apparent to Eustacia, Wildeve being elegantly dressed in a new summer suit and light hat; and she continued: “Ah! you don’t know how differently he appeared when I first met him, though it is such a little while ago. His hands were as white and soft as mine; and look at them now, how rough and brown they are! His complexion is by nature fair, and that rusty look he has now, all of a colour with his leather clothes, is caused by the burning of the sun.”

      “Why does he go out at all!” Wildeve whispered.

      “Because he hates to be idle; though what he earns doesn’t add much to our exchequer. However, he says that when people are living upon their capital they must keep down current expenses by turning a penny where they can.”

      “The fates have not been kind to you, Eustacia Yeobright.”

      “I have nothing to thank them for.”

      “Nor has he — except for their one great gift to him.”

      “What’s that?”

      Wildeve looked her in the eyes.

      Eustacia blushed for the first time that day. “Well, I am a questionable gift,” she said quietly. “I thought you meant the gift of content — which he has, and I have not.”

      “I can understand content in such a case — though how the outward situation can attract him puzzles me.”

      “That’s because you don’t know him. He’s an enthusiast about ideas, and careless about outward things. He often reminds me of the Apostle Paul.”

      “I am glad to hear that he’s so grand in character as that.”

      “Yes; but the worst of it is that though Paul was excellent as a man in the Bible he would hardly have done in real life.”

      Their voices had instinctively dropped lower, though at first they had taken no particular care to avoid awakening Clym. “Well, if that means that your marriage is a misfortune to you, you know who is to blame,” said Wildeve.

      “The marriage is no misfortune in itself,” she retorted with some little petulance. “It is simply the accident which has happened since that has been the cause of my ruin. I have certainly got thistles for figs in a worldly sense, but how could I tell what time would bring forth?”

      “Sometimes, Eustacia, I think it is a judgment upon you. You rightly belonged to me, you know; and I had no idea of losing you.”

      “No, it was not my fault! Two could not belong to you; and remember that, before I was aware, you turned aside to another woman. It was cruel levity in you to do that. I never dreamt of playing such a game on my side till you began it on yours.”

      “I meant nothing by it,” replied Wildeve. “It was a mere interlude. Men are given to the trick of having a passing fancy for somebody else in the midst of a permanent love, which reasserts itself afterwards just as before. On account of your rebellious manner to me I was tempted to go further than I should have done; and when you still would keep playing the same tantalizing part I went further still, and married her.” Turning and looking again at the unconscious form of Clym, he murmured, “I am afraid that you don’t value your prize, Clym. . . . He ought to be happier than I in one thing at least. He may know what it is to come down in the world, and to be afflicted with a great personal calamity; but he probably doesn’t know what it is to lose the woman he loved.”

      “He is not ungrateful for winning her,” whispered Eustacia, “and in that respect he is a good man. Many women would go far for such a husband. But do I desire unreasonably much in wanting what is called life — music, poetry, passion, war, and all the beating and pulsing that are going on in the great arteries of the world? That was the shape of my youthful dream; but I did not get it. Yet I thought I saw the way to it in my Clym.”

      “And you only married him on that account?”

      “There you mistake me. I married him because I loved him, but I won’t say that I didn’t love him partly because I thought I saw a promise of that life in him.”

      “You have dropped into your old mournful key.”

      “But I am not going to be depressed,” she cried perversely. “I began a new system by going to that dance, and I mean to stick to it. Clym can sing merrily; why should not I?”

      Wildeve looked thoughtfully at her. “It is easier to say you will sing than to do it; though if I could I would encourage you in your attempt. But as life means nothing to me, without one thing which is now impossible, you will forgive me for not being able to encourage you.”

      “Damon, what is the matter with you, that you speak like that?” she asked, raising her deep shady eyes to his.

      “That’s a thing I shall never tell plainly; and perhaps if I try to tell you in riddles you will not care to guess them.”

      Eustacia remained silent for a minute, and she said, “We are in a strange relationship today. You mince matters to an uncommon nicety. You mean, Damon, that you still love me. Well, that gives me sorrow, for I am not made so entirely happy by my marriage that I am willing to spurn you for the information, as I ought to do. But we have said too much about this. Do you mean to wait until my husband is awake?”

      “I thought to speak to him; but it is unnecessary, Eustacia, if I offend you by not forgetting you, you are right to mention it; but do not talk of spurning.”

      She did not reply, and they stood looking musingly at Clym as he slept on in that profound sleep which is the result of physical labour carried on in circumstances that wake no nervous fear.

      “God, how I envy him that sweet sleep!” said Wildeve.

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