sly　crept　in；　and　were　reasserting　their　old　supremacy。　　Further　ahead　were　dimly　visible　an　irregular　dwelling…house；　garden；　and　outbuildings；　backed　by　a　clump　of　firs。
  The　young　lady—for　youth　had　revealed　its　presence　in　her　buoyant　bound　up　the　bank—walked　along　the　top　instead　of　descending　inside；　and　came　to　the　corner　where　the　fire　was　burning。　　One　reason　for　the　permanence　of　the　blaze　was　now　manifest：　the　fuel　consisted　of　hard　pieces　of　wood；　cleft　and　sawn—the　knotty　boles　of　old　thorn　trees　which　grew　in　twos　and　threes　about　the　hillsides。　　A　yet　unconsumed　pile　of　these　lay　in　the　inner　angle　of　the　bank；　and　from　this　corner　the　upturned　face　of　a　little　boy　greeted　her　eves。　　He　was　dilatorily　throwing　up　a　piece　of　wood　into　the　fire　every　now　and　then；　a　business　which　seemed　to　have　engaged　him　a　considerable　part　of　the　evening；　for　his　face　was　somewhat　weary。
  “I　am　glad　you　have　e；　Miss　Eustacia；”　he　said；　with　a　sigh　of　relief。　　“I　don’t　like　biding　by　myself。”
  “Nonsense。　I　have　only　been　a　little　way　for　a　walk。
  I　have　been　gone　only　twenty　minutes。”
  “It　seemed　long；”　murmured　the　sad　boy。　　“And　you　have　been　so　many　times。”
  “Why；　I　thought　you　would　be　pleased　to　have　a　bonfire。
  Are　you　not　much　obliged　to　me　for　making　you　one？”
  “Yes；　but　there’s　nobody　here　to　play　wi’　me。”
  “I　suppose　nobody　has　e　while　I’ve　been　away？”
  “Nobody　except　your　grandfather—he　looked　out　of　doors　once　for　‘ee。　I　told　him　you　were　walking　round　upon　the　hill　to　look　at　the　other　bonfires。”
  “A　good　boy。”
  “I　think　I　hear　him　ing　again；　miss。”
  An　old　man　came　into　the　remoter　light　of　the　fire　from　the　direction　of　the　homestead。　　He　was　the　same　who　had　overtaken　the　reddleman　on　the　road　that　afternoon。　　He　looked　wistfully　to　the　top　of　the　bank　at　the　woman　who　stood　there；　and　his　teeth；　which　were　quite　unimpaired；　showed　like　parian　from　his　parted　lips。
  “When　are　you　ing　indoors；　Eustacia？”　he　asked。　　“’Tis　almost　bedtime。　　I’ve　been　home　these　two　hours；　and　am　tired　out。　　Surely　‘tis　somewhat　childish　of　you　to　stay　out　playing　at　bonfires　so　long；　and　wasting　such　fuel。　　My　precious　thorn　roots；　the　rarest　of　all　firing；　that　I　laid　by　on　purpose　for　Christmas—you　have　burnt　‘em　nearly　all！”
  “I　promised　Johnny　a　bonfire；　and　it　pleases　him　not　to　let　it　go　out　just　yet；”　said　Eustacia；　in　a　way　which　told　at　once　that　she　was　absolute　queen　here。　　“Grandfather；　you　go　in　to　bed。　　I　shall　follow　you　soon。
  You　like　the　fire；　don’t　you；　Johnny？”
  The　boy　looked　up　doubtfully　at　her　and　murmured；　“I　don’t　think　I　want　it　any　longer。”
  Her　grandfather　had　turned　back　again；　and　did　not　hear　the　boy’s　reply。　　As　soon　as　the　white…haired　man　had　vanished　she　said　in　a　tone　of　pique　to　the　child；　“Ungrateful　little　boy；　how　can　you　contradict　me？　　Never　shall　you　have　a　bonfire　again　unless　you　keep　it　up　now。　　e；　tell　me　you　like　to　do　things　for　me；　and　don’t　deny　it。”
  The　repressed　child　said；　“Yes；　I　do；　miss；”　and　continued　to　stir　the　fire　perfunctorily。
  “Stay　a　little　longer　and　I　will　give　you　a　crooked　six…pence；”　said　Eustacia；　more　gently。　　“Put　in　one　piece　of　wood　every　two　or　three　minutes；　but　not　too　much　at　once。　　I　am　going　to　walk　along　the　ridge　a　little　longer；　but　I　shall　keep　on　ing　to　you。　　And　if　you　hear　a　frog　jump　into　the　pond　with　a　flounce　like　a　stone　thrown　in；　be　sure　you　run　and　tell　me；　because　it　is　a　sign　of　rain。”
  “Yes；　Eustacia。”
  “Miss　Vye；　sir。”
  “Miss　Vy—stacia。”
  “That　will　do。　　Now　put　in　one　stick　more。”
  The　little　slave　went　on　feeding　the　fire　as　before。　　He　seemed　a　mere　automaton；　galvanized　into　moving　and　speaking　by　the　wayward　Eustacia’s　will。　　He　might　have　been　the　brass　statue　which　Albertus　Magnus　is　said　to　have　animated　just　so　far　as　to　make　it　chatter；　and　move；　and　be　his　servant。
  Before　going　on　her　walk　again　the　young　girl　stood　still　on　the　bank　for　a　few　instants　and　listened。　　It　was　to　the　full　as　lonely　a　place　as　Rainbarrow；　though　at　rather　a　lower　level；　and　it　was　more　sheltered　from　wind　and　weather　on　account　of　the　few　firs　to　the　north。　　The　bank　which　enclosed　the　homestead；　and　protected　it　from　the　lawless　state　of　the　world　without；　was　formed　of　thick　square　clods；　dug　from　the　ditch　on　the　outside；　and　built　up　with　a　slight　batter　or　incline；　which　forms　no　slight　defense　where　hedges　will　not　grow　because　of　the　wind　and　the　wilderness；　and　where　wall　materials　are　unattainable。　　Otherwise　the　situation　was　quite　open；　manding　the　whole　length　of　the　valley　which　reached　to　the　river　behind　Wildeve’s　house。　　High　above　this　to　the　right；　and　much　nearer　thitherward　than　the　Quiet　Woman　Inn；　the　blurred　contour　of　Rainbarrow　obstructed　the　sky。
  After　her　attentive　survey　of　the　wild　slopes　and　hollow　ravines　a　gesture　of　impatience　escaped　Eustacia。　　She　vented　petulant　words　every　now　and　then；　but　there　were　sighs　between　her　words；　and　sudden　listenings　between　her　sighs。　　Descending　from　her　perch　she　again　sauntered　off　towards　Rainbarrow；　though　this　time　she　did　not　go　the　whole　way。
  Twice　she　reappeared　at　intervals　of　a　few　minutes　and　each　time　she　said—
  “Not　any　flounce　into　the　pond　yet；　little　man？”
  “No；　Miss　Eustacia；”　the　child　replied。
  “Well；”　she　said　at　last；　“I　shall　soon　be　going　in；　and　then　I　will　give　you　the　crooked　sixpence；　and　let　you　go　home。”
  “Thank’ee；　Miss　Eustacia；”　said　the　tired　stoker；　breathing　more　easily。　　And　Eustacia　again　strolled　away　from　the　fire；　but　this　time　not　towards　Rainbarrow。　　She　skirted　the　bank　and　went　round　to　the　wicket　before　the　house；　where　she　stood　motionless；　looking　at　the　scene。
  Fifty　yards　off　rose　the　corner　of　the　two　converging　banks；　with　the　fire　upon　it；　within　the　bank；　lifting　up　to　the　fire　one　stick　at　a　time；　just　as　before；　the　figure　of　the　little　child。　　She　idly　watched　him　as　he　occasionally　climbed　up　in　the　nook　of　the　bank　and　stood　beside　the　brands。　　The　wind　blew　the　smoke；　and　the　child’s　hair；　and　the　corner　of　his　pinafore；　all　in　the　same　direction；　the　breeze　died；　and　the　pinafore　and　hair　lay　still；　and　the　smoke　went　up　straight。
  While　Eustacia　looked　on　from　this　distance　the　boy’s　form　visibly　started—he　slid　down　the　bank　and　ran　across　towards　the　white　gate。
  “Well？”　said　Eustacia。
  “A　hopfrog　have　jumped　into　the　pond。　　Yes；　I　heard　‘en！”
  “Then　it　is　going　to　rain；　and　you　had　better　go　home。　　You　will　not　be　afraid？”　She　spoke　hurriedly；　as　if　her　heart　had　leapt　into　her　throat　at　the　boy’s　words。
  “No；　because　I　shall　hae　the　crooked　sixpence。”
  “Yes。　here　it　is。　　Now　run　as　fast　as　you　can—not　that　way—through　the　garden　here。　　No　other　boy　in　the　heath　has　had　such　a　bonfire　as　yours。”
  The　boy；　who　clearly　had　had　too　much　of　a　good　thing；　marched　away　into　the　shadows　with　alacrity。　　When　he　was　gone　Eustacia；　leaving　her　telescope　and　hourglass　by　the　gate；　brushed　forward　from　the　wicket　towards　the　angle　of　the　bank；　under　the　fire。
  Here；　screened　by　the　outwork；　she　waited。　　In　a　few　moments　a　splash　was　audible　from　the　pond　outside。　　Had　the　child　been　there　he　would　have　said　that　a　second　frog　had　jumped　in；　but　by　most　people　the　sound　would　have　been　likened　to　the　fall　of　a　stone　into　the　water。　　Eustacia　stepped　upon　the　bank。
  “Yes？”　she　said；　and　held　her　breath。
  Thereupon　the　contour　of　a　man　became　dimly　visible　against　the　low…reaching　sky　over　the　valley；　beyond　the　outer　margin　of　the　pool。　　He　came　round　it　and　leapt　upon　the　bank　beside　her。　　A　low　laugh　escaped　her—the　third　utterance　which　the　girl　had　indulged　in　tonight。　　The　first；　when　she　stood　upon　Rainbarrow；　had　expressed　anxiety；　the　second；　on　the　ridge；　had　expressed　impatience；　the　present　was　one　of　triumphant　pleasure。　　She　let　her　joyous　eyes　rest　upon　him　without　speaking；　as　upon　some　wondrous　thing　she　had　created　out　of　chaos。
  “I　have　e；”　said　the　man；　who　was　Wildeve。
  “You　give　me　no　peace。　　Why　do　you　not　leave　me　alone？　　I　have　seen　your　bonfire　all　the　evening。”　　The　words　were　not　without　emotion；　and　retained　their　level　tone　as　if　by　a　careful　equipoise　between　imminent　extremes。
  At　this　unexpectedly　repressing　manner　in　her　lover　the　girl　seemed　to　repress　herself　also。　　“Of　course　you　have　seen　my　fire；”　she　answered　with　languid　calmness；　artificially　maintained。　　“Why　shouldn’t　I　have　a　bonfire　on　the　Fifth　of　November；　like　other　denizens　of　the　heath？”
  “I　knew　it　was　meant　for　me。”
  “How　did　you　know　it？　　I　have　had　no　word　with　you　since　you—you　chose　her；　and　walked　about　with　her；　and　deserted　me　entirely；　as　if　I　had　never　been　yours　life　and　soul　so　irretrievably！”
  “Eustacia！　could　I　forget　that　last　autumn　at　this　same　day　of　the　month　and　at　this　same　place　you　lighted　exactly　such　a　fire　as　a　signal　for　me　to　e　and　see　you？　　Why　should　there　have　been　a　bonfire　again　by　Captain　Vye’s　house　if　not　for　the　same　purpose？”
  “Yes；　yes—I　own　it；”　she　cried　under　her　breath；　with　a　drowsy　fervour　of　manner　and　tone　which　was　quite　peculiar　to　her。　　“Don’t　begin　speaking　to　me　as　you　did；　Damon；　you　will　drive　me　to　say　words　I　would　not　wish　to　say　to　you。