he　e’en　a’most　sawed　the　bass　viol　into　two　pieces。　　Every　winder　in　church　rattled　as　if　‘twere　a　thunderstorm。　　Old　Pa’son　Williams　lifted　his　hands　in　his　great　holy　surplice　as　natural　as　if　he’d　been　in　mon　clothes；　and　seemed　to　say　hisself；　‘O　for　such　a　man　in　our　parish！’　But　not　a　soul　in　Kingsbere　could　hold　a　candle　to　Yeobright。”
  “Was　it　quite　safe　when　the　winder　shook？”　Christian　inquired。
  He　received　no　answer；　all　for　the　moment　sitting　rapt　in　admiration　of　the　performance　described。　　As　with　Farinelli’s　singing　before　the　princesses；　Sheridan’s　renowned　Begum　Speech；　and　other　such　examples；　the　fortunate　condition　of　its　being　for　ever　lost　to　the　world　invested　the　deceased　Mr。　Yeobright’s　tour　de　force　on　that　memorable　afternoon　with　a　cumulative　glory　which　parative　criticism；　had　that　been　possible；　might　considerably　have　shorn　down。
  “He　was　the　last　you’d　have　expected　to　drop　off　in　the　prime　of　life；”　said　Humphrey。
  “Ah；　well；　he　was　looking　for　the　earth　some　months　afore　he　went。　　At　that　time　women　used　to　run　for　smocks　and　gown…pieces　at　Greenhill　Fair；　and　my　wife　that　is　now；　being　a　long…legged　slittering　maid；　hardly　husband…high；　went　with　the　rest　of　the　maidens；　for　‘a　was　a　good；　runner　afore　she　got　so　heavy。　　When　she　came　home　I　said—we　were　then　just　beginning　to　walk　together—‘What　have　ye　got；　my　honey？’　‘I’ve　won—well；　I’ve　won—a　gown…piece；’　says　she；　her　colours　ing　up　in　a　moment。　　‘Tis　a　smock　for　a　crown；　I　thought；　and　so　it　turned　out。　　Ay；　when　I　think　what　she’ll　say　to　me　now　without　a　mossel　of　red　in　her　face；　it　do　seem　strange　that　‘a　wouldn’t　say　such　a　little　thing　then。。。。However；　then　she　went　on；　and　that’s　what　made　me　bring　up　the　story。　　Well；　whatever　clothes　I’ve　won；　white　or　figured；　for　eyes　to　see　or　for　eyes　not　to　see’　（‘a　could　do　a　pretty　stroke　of　modesty　in　those　days）；　‘I’d　sooner　have　lost　it　than　have　seen　what　I　have。　　Poor　Mr。　Yeobright　was　took　bad　directly　he　reached　the　fair　ground；　and　was　forced　to　go　home　again。’　That　was　the　last　time　he　ever　went　out　of　the　parish。”
  “’A　faltered　on　from　one　day　to　another；　and　then　we　heard　he　was　gone。”
  “D’ye　think　he　had　great　pain　when　‘a　died？”　said　Christian。
  “O　no—quite　different。　　Nor　any　pain　of　mind。
  He　was　lucky　enough　to　be　God　A’mighty’s　own　man。”
  “And　other　folk—d’ye　think　‘twill　be　much　pain　to　‘em；　Mister　Fairway？”
  “That　depends　on　whether　they　be　afeard。”
  “I　bain’t　afeard　at　all；　I　thank　God！”　said　Christian　strenuously。　　“I’m　glad　I　bain’t；　for　then　‘twon’t　pain　me。。。。I　don’t　think　I　be　afeard—or　if　I　be　I　can’t　help　it；　and　I　don’t　deserve　to　suffer。　　I　wish　I　was　not　afeard　at　all！”
  There　was　a　solemn　silence；　and　looking　from　the　window；　which　was　unshuttered　and　unblinded；　Timothy　said；　“Well；　what　a　fess　little　bonfire　that　one　is；　out　by　Cap’n　Vye’s！　‘Tis　burning　just　the　same　now　as　ever；　upon　my　life。”
  All　glances　went　through　the　window；　and　nobody　noticed　that　Wildeve　disguised　a　brief；　telltale　look。　　Far　away　up　the　sombre　valley　of　heath；　and　to　the　right　of　Rainbarrow；　could　indeed　be　seen　the　light；　small；　but　steady　and　persistent　as　before。
  “It　was　lighted　before　ours　was；”　Fairway　continued；
  “and　yet　every　one　in　the　country　round　is　out　afore　‘n。”
  “Perhaps　there’s　meaning　in　it！”　murmured　Christian。
  “How　meaning？”　said　Wildeve　sharply。
  Christian　was　too　scattered　to　reply；　and　Timothy　helped　him。
  “He　means；　sir；　that　the　lonesome　dark…eyed　creature　up　there　that　some　say　is　a　witch—ever　I　should　call　a　fine　young　woman　such　a　name—is　always　up　to　some　odd　conceit　or　other；　and　so　perhaps　‘tis　she。”
  “I’d　be　very　glad　to　ask　her　in　wedlock；　if　she’d　hae　me　and　take　the　risk　of　her　wild　dark　eyes　ill…wishing　me；”　said　Grandfer　Cantle　staunchly。
  “Don’t　ye　say　it；　Father！”　implored　Christian。
  “Well；　be　dazed　if　he　who　do　marry　the　maid　won’t　hae　an　unmon　picture　for　his　best　parlour；”　said　Fairway　in　a　liquid　tone；　placing　down　the　cup　of　mead　at　the　end　of　a　good　pull。
  “And　a　partner　as　deep　as　the　North　Star；”　said　Sam；　taking　up　the　cup　and　finishing　the　little　that　remained。　　“Well；　really；　now　I　think　we　must　be　moving；”　said　Humphrey；　observing　the　emptiness　of　the　vessel。
  “But　we’ll　gie　‘em　another　song？”　said　Grandfer　Cantle。
  “I’m　as　full　of　notes　as　a　bird！”
  “Thank　you；　Grandfer；”　said　Wildeve。　　“But　we　will　not　trouble　you　now。　　Some　other　day　must　do　for　that—when　I　have　a　party。”
  “Be　jown’d　if　I　don’t　learn　ten　new　songs　for’t；　or　I　won’t　learn　a　line！”　said　Grandfer　Cantle。　　“And　you　may　be　sure　I　won’t　disappoint　ye　by　biding　away；　Mr。　Wildeve。”
  “I　quite　believe　you；”　said　that　gentleman。
  All　then　took　their　leave；　wishing　their　entertainer　long　life　and　happiness　as　a　married　man；　with　recapitulations　which　occupied　some　time。　　Wildeve　attended　them　to　the　door；　beyond　which　the　deep…dyed　upward　stretch　of　heath　stood　awaiting　them；　an　amplitude　of　darkness　reigning　from　their　feet　almost　to　the　zenith；　where　a　definite　form　first　became　visible　in　the　lowering　forehead　of　Rainbarrow。　　Diving　into　the　dense　obscurity　in　a　line　headed　by　Sam　the　turf…cutter；　they　pursued　their　trackless　way　home。
  When　the　scratching　of　the　furze　against　their　leggings　had　fainted　upon　the　ear；　Wildeve　returned　to　the　room　where　he　had　left　Thomasin　and　her　aunt。　　The　women　were　gone。
  They　could　only　have　left　the　house　in　one　way；　by　the　back　window；　and　this　was　open。
  Wildeve　laughed　to　himself；　remained　a　moment　thinking；　and　idly　returned　to　the　front　room。　　Here　his　glance　fell　upon　a　bottle　of　wine　which　stood　on　the　mantelpiece。　　“Ah—old　Dowden！”　he　murmured；　and　going　to　the　kitchen　door　shouted；　“Is　anybody　here　who　can　take　something　to　old　Dowden？”
  There　was　no　reply。　　The　room　was　empty；　the　lad　who　acted　as　his　factotum　having　gone　to　bed。　　Wildeve　came　back　put　on　his　hat；　took　the　bottle；　and　left　the　house；　turning　the　key　in　the　door；　for　there　was　no　guest　at　the　inn　tonight。　　As　soon　as　he　was　on　the　road　the　little　bonfire　on　Mistover　Knap　again　met　his　eye。
  “Still　waiting；　are　you；　my　lady？”　he　murmured。
  However；　he　did　not　proceed　that　way　just　then；　but　leaving　the　hill　to　the　left　of　him；　he　stumbled　over　a　rutted　road　that　brought　him　to　a　cottage　which；　like　all　other　habitations　on　the　heath　at　this　hour；　was　only　saved　from　being　visible　by　a　faint　shine　from　its　bedroom　window。　　This　house　was　the　home　of　Olly　Dowden；　the　besom…maker；　and　he　entered。
  The　lower　room　was　in　darkness；　but　by　feeling　his　way　he　found　a　table；　whereon　he　placed　the　bottle；　and　a　minute　later　emerged　again　upon　the　heath。　　He　stood　and　looked　northeast　at　the　undying　little　fire—high　up　above　him；　though　not　so　high　as　Rainbarrow。
  We　have　been　told　what　happens　when　a　woman　deliberates；　and　the　epigram　is　not　always　terminable　with　woman；　provided　that　one　be　in　the　case；　and　that　a　fair　one。　　Wildeve　stood；　and　stood　longer；　and　breathed　perplexedly；　and　then　said　to　himself　with　resignation；　“Yes—by　Heaven；　I　must　go　to　her；　I　suppose！”
  Instead　of　turning　in　the　direction　of　home　he　pressed　on　rapidly　by　a　path　under　Rainbarrow　towards　what　was　evidently　a　signal　light。
  6　… The　Figure　against　the　Sky
  When　the　whole　Egdon　concourse　had　left　the　site　of　the　bonfire　to　its　accustomed　loneliness；　a　closely　wrapped　female　figure　approached　the　barrow　from　that　quarter　of　the　heath　in　which　the　little　fire　lay。　　Had　the　reddleman　been　watching　he　might　have　recognized　her　as　the　woman　who　had　first　stood　there　so　singularly；　and　vanished　at　the　approach　of　strangers。　　She　ascended　to　her　old　position　at　the　top；　where　the　red　coals　of　the　perishing　fire　greeted　her　like　living　eyes　in　the　corpse　of　day。　　There　she　stood　still　around　her　stretching　the　vast　night　atmosphere；　whose　inplete　darkness　in　parison　with　the　total　darkness　of　the　heath　below　it　might　have　represented　a　venial　beside　a　mortal　sin。
  That　she　was　tall　and　straight　in　build；　that　she　was　lady…like　in　her　movements；　was　all　that　could　be　learnt　of　her　just　now；　her　form　being　wrapped　in　a　shawl　folded　in　the　old　cornerwise　fashion；　and　her　head　in　a　large　kerchief；　a　protection　not　superfluous　at　this　hour　and　place。　　Her　back　was　towards　the　wind；　which　blew　from　the　northwest；　but　whether　she　had　avoided　that　aspect　because　of　the　chilly　gusts　which　played　about　her　exceptional　position；　or　because　her　interest　lay　in　the　southeast；　did　not　at　first　appear。
  Her　reason　for　standing　so　dead　still　as　the　pivot　of　this　circle　of　heath…country　was　just　as　obscure。　　Her　extraordinary　fixity；　her　conspicuous　loneliness；　her　heedlessness　of　night；　betokened　among　other　things　an　utter　absence　of　fear。　　A　tract　of　country　unaltered　from　that　sinister　condition　which　made　Caesar　anxious　every　year　to　get　clear　of　its　glooms　before　the　autumnal　equinox；　a　kind　of　landscape　and　weather　which　leads　travellers　from　the　South　to　describe　our　island　as　Homer’s　Cimmerian　land；　was　not；　on　the　face　of　it；　friendly　to　women。
  It　might　reasonably　have　been　supposed　that　she　was　listening　to　the　wind；　which　rose　somewhat　a