e　air；　the　sitters’　backs　are　as　warm　as　their　faces；　and　songs　and　old　tales　are　drawn　from　the　occupants　by　the　fortable　heat；　like　fruit　from　melon　plants　in　a　frame。
  It　was；　however；　not　with　those　who　sat　in　the　settle　that　Eustacia　was　concerned。　　A　face　showed　itself　with　marked　distinctness　against　the　dark…tanned　wood　of　the　upper　part。　　The　owner；　who　was　leaning　against　the　settle’s　outer　end；　was　Clement　Yeobright；　or　Clym；　as　he　was　called　here；　she　knew　it　could　be　nobody　else。　　The　spectacle　constituted　an　area　of　two　feet　in　Rembrandt’s　intensest　manner。　　A　strange　power　in　the　lounger’s　appearance　lay　in　the　fact　that；　though　his　whole　figure　was　visible；　the　observer’s　eye　was　only　aware　of　his　face。
  To　one　of　middle　age　the　countenance　was　that　of　a　young　man；　though　a　youth　might　hardly　have　seen　any　necessity　for　the　term　of　immaturity。　　But　it　was　really　one　of　those　faces　which　convey　less　the　idea　of　so　many　years　as　its　age　than　of　so　much　experience　as　its　store。　　The　number　of　their　years　may　have　adequately　summed　up　Jared；　Mahalaleel；　and　the　rest　of　the　antediluvians；　but　the　age　of　a　modern　man　is　to　be　measured　by　the　intensity　of　his　history。
  The　face　was　well　shaped；　even　excellently。　　But　the　mind　within　was　beginning　to　use　it　as　a　mere　waste　tablet　whereon　to　trace　its　idiosyncrasies　as　they　developed　themselves。　　The　beauty　here　visible　would　in　no　long　time　be　ruthlessly　over…run　by　its　parasite；　thought；　which　might　just　as　well　have　fed　upon　a　plainer　exterior　where　there　was　nothing　it　could　harm。　　Had　Heaven　preserved　Yeobright　from　a　wearing　habit　of　meditation；　people　would　have　said；　“A　handsome　man。”　　Had　his　brain　unfolded　under　sharper　contours　they　would　have　said；　“A　thoughtful　man。”　　But　an　inner　strenuousness　was　preying　upon　an　outer　symmetry；　and　they　rated　his　look　as　singular。
  Hence　people　who　began　by　beholding　him　ended　by　perusing　him。
  His　countenance　was　overlaid　with　legible　meanings。　　Without　being　thought…worn　he　yet　had　certain　marks　derived　from　a　perception　of　his　surroundings；　such　as　are　not　unfrequently　found　on　men　at　the　end　of　the　four　or　five　years　of　endeavour　which　follow　the　close　of　placid　pupilage。　　He　already　showed　that　thought　is　a　disease　of　flesh；　and　indirectly　bore　evidence　that　ideal　physical　beauty　is　inpatible　with　emotional　development　and　a　full　recognition　of　the　coil　of　things。　　Mental　luminousness　must　be　fed　with　the　oil　of　life；　even　though　there　is　already　a　physical　need　for　it；　and　the　pitiful　sight　of　two　demands　on　one　supply　was　just　showing　itself　here。
  When　standing　before　certain　men　the　philosopher　regrets　that　thinkers　are　but　perishable　tissue；　the　artist　that　perishable　tissue　has　to　think。　　Thus　to　deplore；　each　from　his　point　of　view；　the　mutually　destructive　interdependence　of　spirit　and　flesh　would　have　been　instinctive　with　these　in　critically　observing　Yeobright。
  As　for　his　look；　it　was　a　natural　cheerfulness　striving　against　depression　from　without；　and　not　quite　succeeding。　　The　look　suggested　isolation；　but　it　revealed　something　more。　　As　is　usual　with　bright　natures；　the　deity　that　lies　ignominiously　chained　within　an　ephemeral　human　carcase　shone　out　of　him　like　a　ray。
  The　effect　upon　Eustacia　was　palpable。　　The　extraordinary　pitch　of　excitement　that　she　had　reached　beforehand　would；　indeed；　have　caused　her　to　be　influenced　by　the　most　monplace　man。　　She　was　troubled　at　Yeobright’s　presence。
  The　remainder　of　the　play　ended—the　Saracen’s　head　was　cut　off；　and　Saint　George　stood　as　victor。　　Nobody　mented；　any　more　than　they　would　have　mented　on　the　fact　of　mushrooms　ing　in　autumn　or　snowdrops　in　spring。　　They　took　the　piece　as　phlegmatically　as　did　the　actors　themselves。　　It　was　a　phase　of　cheerfulness　which　was；　as　a　matter　of　course；　to　be　passed　through　every　Christmas；　and　there　was　no　more　to　be　said。
  They　sang　the　plaintive　chant　which　follows　the　play；　during　which　all　the　dead　men　rise　to　their　feet　in　a　silent　and　awful　manner；　like　the　ghosts　of　Napoleon’s　soldiers　in　the　Midnight　Review。　　Afterwards　the　door　opened；　and　Fairway　appeared　on　the　threshold；　acpanied　by　Christian　and　another。　　They　had　been　waiting　outside　for　the　conclusion　of　the　play；　as　the　players　had　waited　for　the　conclusion　of　the　dance。
  “e　in；　e　in；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright；　and　Clym　went　forward　to　wele　them。　　“How　is　it　you　are　so　late？　　Grandfer　Cantle　has　been　here　ever　so　long；　and　we　thought　you’d　have　e　with　him；　as　you　live　so　near　one　another。”
  “Well；　I　should　have　e　earlier；”　Mr。　Fairway　said　and　paused　to　look　along　the　beam　of　the　ceiling　for　a　nail　to　hang　his　hat　on；　but；　finding　his　accustomed　one　to　be　occupied　by　the　mistletoe；　and　all　the　nails　in　the　walls　to　be　burdened　with　bunches　of　holly；　he　at　last　relieved　himself　of　the　hat　by　ticklishly　balancing　it　between　the　candle…box　and　the　head　of　the　clock…case。　　“I　should　have　e　earlier；　ma’am；”　he　resumed；　with　a　more　posed　air；　“but　I　know　what　parties　be；　and　how　there’s　none　too　much　room　in　folks’　houses　at　such　times；　so　I　thought　I　wouldn’t　e　till　you’d　got　settled　a　bit。”
  “And　I　thought　so　too；　Mrs。　Yeobright；”　said　Christian　earnestly；　“but　Father　there　was　so　eager　that　he　had　no　manners　at　all；　and　left　home　almost　afore　‘twas　dark。　　I　told　him　‘twas　barely　decent　in　a’　old　man　to　e　so　oversoon；　but　words　be　wind。”
  “Klk！　I　wasn’t　going　to　bide　waiting　about；　till　half　the　game　was　over！　I’m　as　light　as　a　kite　when　anything’s　going　on！”　crowed　Grandfer　Cantle　from　the　chimneyseat。
  Fairway　had　meanwhile　concluded　a　critical　gaze　at　Yeobright。　　“Now；　you　may　not　believe　it；”　he　said　to　the　rest　of　the　room；　“but　I　should　never　have　knowed　this　gentleman　if　I　had　met　him　anywhere　off　his　own　he’th—he’s　altered　so　much。”
  “You　too　have　altered；　and　for　the　better；　I　think　Timothy；”　said　Yeobright；　surveying　the　firm　figure　of　Fairway。
  “Master　Yeobright；　look　me　over　too。　　I　have　altered　for　the　better；　haven’t　I；　hey？”　said　Grandfer　Cantle；　rising　and　placing　himself　something　above　half　a　foot　from　Clym’s　eye；　to　induce　the　most　searching　criticism。
  “To　be　sure　we　will；”　said　Fairway；　taking　the　candle　and　moving　it　over　the　surface　of　the　Grandfer’s　countenance；　the　subject　of　his　scrutiny　irradiating　himself　with　light　and　pleasant　smiles；　and　giving　himself　jerks　of　juvenility。
  “You　haven’t　changed　much；”　said　Yeobright。
  “If　there’s　any　difference；　Grandfer　is　younger；”　appended　Fairway　decisively。
  “And　yet　not　my　own　doing；　and　I　feel　no　pride　in　it；”　said　the　pleased　ancient。　　“But　I　can’t　be　cured　of　my　vagaries；　them　I　plead　guilty　to。　　Yes；　Master　Cantle　always　was　that；　as　we　know。　　But　I　am　nothing　by　the　side　of　you；　Mister　Clym。”
  “Nor　any　o’　us；”　said　Humphrey；　in　a　low　rich　tone　of　admiration；　not　intended　to　reach　anybody’s　ears。
  “Really；　there　would　have　been　nobody　here　who　could　have　stood　as　decent　second　to　him；　or　even　third；　if　I　hadn’t　been　a　soldier　in　the　Bang…up　Locals　（as　we　was　called　for　our　smartness）；”　said　Grandfer　Cantle。　　“And　even　as　‘tis　we　all　look　a　little　scammish　beside　him。　　But　in　the　year　four　‘twas　said　there　wasn’t　a　finer　figure　in　the　whole　South　Wessex　than　I；　as　I　looked　when　dashing　past　the　shop…winders　with　the　rest　of　our　pany　on　the　day　we　ran　out　o’　Budmouth　because　it　was　thoughted　that　Boney　had　landed　round　the　point。　　There　was　I；　straight　as　a　young　poplar；　wi’　my　firelock；　and　my　bagnet；　and　my　spatterdashes；　and　my　stock　sawing　my　jaws　off；　and　my　accoutrements　sheening　like　the　seven　stars！　Yes；　neighbours；　I　was　a　pretty　sight　in　my　soldiering　days。　　You　ought　to　have　seen　me　in　four！”
  “’Tis　his　mother’s　side　where　Master　Clym’s　figure　es　from；　bless　ye；”　said　Timothy。　　“I　know’d　her　brothers　well。　　Longer　coffins　were　never　made　in　the　whole　country　of　South　Wessex；　and　‘tis　said　that　poor　George’s　knees　were　crumpled　up　a　little　e’en　as　‘twas。”
  “Coffins；　where？”　inquired　Christian；　drawing　nearer。
  “Have　the　ghost　of　one　appeared　to　anybody；　Master　Fairway？”
  “No；　no。　　Don’t　let　your　mind　so　mislead　your　ears；　Christian；　and　be　a　man；”　said　Timothy　reproachfully。
  “I　will。”　　said　Christian。　　“But　now　I　think　o’t　my　shadder　last　night　seemed　just　the　shape　of　a　coffin。　　What　is　it　a　sign　of　when　your　shade’s　like　a　coffin；　neighbours？　　It　can’t　be　nothing　to　be　afeared　of；　I　suppose？”
  “Afeared；　no！”　said　the　Grandfer。　　“Faith；　I　was　never　afeard　of　nothing　except　Boney；　or　I　shouldn’t　ha’　been　the　soldier　I　was。　　Yes；　‘tis　a　thousand　pities　you　didn’t　see　me　in　four！”
  By　this　time　the　mummers　were　preparing　to　leave；　but　Mrs。　Yeobright　stopped　them　by　asking　them　to　sit　down　and　have　a　little　supper。　　To　this　invitation　Father　Christmas；　in　the　name　of　them　all；　readily　agreed。
  Eustacia　was　happy　in　the　opportunity　of　staying　a　little　longer。
  The　cold　and　frosty　night　without　was　doubly　frigid　to　her。
  But　the　lingering　was　not　without　its　difficulties。　　Mrs。　Yeobright；　for　want　of　room　in　the　larger　apartment；　placed　a　bench　for　the　mummers　halfway　through　the　pantry　door；　which　opened　from　the　sitting…room。　Here　they　seated　themselves　in　a　ro