a　heron’s。　When　she　was　frightened　she　darted　noiselessly　like　a　kingfisher。　　When　she　was　serene　she　skimmed　like　a　swallow；　and　that　is　how　she　was　moving　now。
  “You　are　looking　very　blithe；　upon　my　word；　Tamsie；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright；　with　a　sad　smile。　　“How　is　Damon？”
  “He　is　very　well。”
  “Is　he　kind　to　you；　Thomasin？”　And　Mrs。　Yeobright　observed　her　narrowly。
  “Pretty　fairly。”
  “Is　that　honestly　said？”
  “Yes；　Aunt。　　I　would　tell　you　if　he　were　unkind。”　She　added；　blushing；　and　with　hesitation；　“He—I　don’t　know　if　I　ought　to　plain　to　you　about　this；　but　I　am　not　quite　sure　what　to　do。　　I　want　some　money；　you　know；　Aunt—some　to　buy　little　things　for　myself—and　he　doesn’t　give　me　any。　　I　don’t　like　to　ask　him；　and　yet；　perhaps；　he　doesn’t　give　it　me　because　he　doesn’t　know。　　Ought　I　to　mention　it　to　him；　Aunt？”
  “Of　course　you　ought。　　Have　you　never　said　a　word　on　the　matter？”
  “You　see；　I　had　some　of　my　own；”　said　Thomasin　evasively；　“and　I　have　not　wanted　any　of　his　until　lately。　　I　did　just　say　something　about　it　last　week；　but　he　seems—not　to　remember。”
  “He　must　be　made　to　remember。　　You　are　aware　that　I　have　a　little　box　full　of　spade…guineas；　which　your　uncle　put　into　my　hands　to　divide　between　yourself　and　Clym　whenever　I　chose。　　Perhaps　the　time　has　e　when　it　should　be　done。　　They　can　be　turned　into　sovereigns　at　any　moment。”
  “I　think　I　should　like　to　have　my　share—that　is；　if　you　don’t　mind。”
  “You　shall；　if　necessary。　　But　it　is　only　proper　that　you　should　first　tell　your　husband　distinctly　that　you　are　without　any；　and　see　what　he　will　do。”
  “Very　well；　I　will。。。。Aunt；　I　have　heard　about　Clym。　　I　know　you　are　in　trouble　about　him；　and　that’s　why　I　have　e。”
  Mrs。　Yeobright　turned　away；　and　her　features　worked　in　her　attempt　to　conceal　her　feelings。　　Then　she　ceased　to　make　any　attempt；　and　said；　weeping；　“O　Thomasin；　do　you　think　he　hates　me？　　How　can　he　bear　to　grieve　me　so；　when　I　have　lived　only　for　him　through　all　these　years？”
  “Hate　you—no；”　said　Thomasin　soothingly。　　“It　is　only　that　he　loves　her　too　well。　　Look　at　it　quietly—do。　　It　is　not　so　very　bad　of　him。　　Do　you　know；　I　thought　it　not　the　worst　match　he　could　have　made。　　Miss　Vye’s　family　is　a　good　one　on　her　mother’s　side；　and　her　father　was　a　romantic　wanderer—a　sort　of　Greek　Ulysses。”
  “It　is　no　use；　Thomasin；　it　is　no　use。　　Your　intention　is　good；　but　I　will　not　trouble　you　to　argue。　　I　have　gone　through　the　whole　that　can　be　said　on　either　side　times；　and　many　times。　　Clym　and　I　have　not　parted　in　anger；　we　have　parted　in　a　worse　way。　　It　is　not　a　passionate　quarrel　that　would　have　broken　my　heart；　it　is　the　steady　opposition　and　persistence　in　going　wrong　that　he　has　shown。　　O　Thomasin；　he　was　so　good　as　a　little　boy—so　tender　and　kind！”
  “He　was；　I　know。”
  “I　did　not　think　one　whom　I　called　mine　would　grow　up　to　treat　me　like　this。　　He　spoke　to　me　as　if　I　opposed　him　to　injure　him。　　As　though　I　could　wish　him　ill！”
  “There　are　worse　women　in　the　world　than　Eustacia　Vye。”
  “There　are　too　many　better　that’s　the　agony　of　it。　　It　was　she；　Thomasin；　and　she　only；　who　led　your　husband　to　act　as　he　did—I　would　swear　it！”
  “No；”　said　Thomasin　eagerly。　　“It　was　before　he　knew　me　that　he　thought　of　her；　and　it　was　nothing　but　a　mere　flirtation。”
  “Very　well；　we　will　let　it　be　so。　　There　is　little　use　in　unravelling　that　now。　　Sons　must　be　blind　if　they　will。　　Why　is　it　that　a　woman　can　see　from　a　distance　what　a　man　cannot　see　close？　　Clym　must　do　as　he　will—he　is　nothing　more　to　me。　　And　this　is　maternity—to　give　one’s　best　years　and　best　love　to　ensure　the　fate　of　being　despised！”
  “You　are　too　unyielding。　　Think　how　many　mothers　there　are　whose　sons　have　brought　them　to　public　shame　by　real　crimes　before　you　feel　so　deeply　a　case　like　this。”
  “Thomasin；　don’t　lecture　me—I　can’t　have　it。　　It　is　the　excess　above　what　we　expect　that　makes　the　force　of　the　blow；　and　that　may　not　be　greater　in　their　case　than　in　mine—they　may　have　foreseen　the　worst。。。。I　am　wrongly　made；　Thomasin；”　she　added；　with　a　mournful　smile。　　“Some　widows　can　guard　against　the　wounds　their　children　give　them　by　turning　their　hearts　to　another　husband　and　beginning　life　again。　　But　I　always　was　a　poor；　weak；　one…idea’d　creature—I　had　not　the　pass　of　heart　nor　the　enterprise　for　that。　　Just　as　forlorn　and　stupefied　as　I　was　when　my　husband’s　spirit　flew　away　I　have　sat　ever　since—never　attempting　to　mend　matters　at　all。　　I　was　paratively　a　young　woman　then；　and　I　might　have　had　another　family　by　this　time；　and　have　been　forted　by　them　for　the　failure　of　this　one　son。”
  “It　is　more　noble　in　you　that　you　did　not。”
  “The　more　noble；　the　less　wise。”
  “Forget　it；　and　be　soothed；　dear　Aunt。　　And　I　shall　not　leave　you　alone　for　long。　　I　shall　e　and　see　you　every　day。”
  And　for　one　week　Thomasin　literally　fulfilled　her　word。　　She　endeavoured　to　make　light　of　the　wedding；　and　brought　news　of　the　preparations；　and　that　she　was　invited　to　be　present。　　The　next　week　she　was　rather　unwell；　and　did　not　appear。　　Nothing　had　as　yet　been　done　about　the　guineas；　for　Thomasin　feared　to　address　her　husband　again　on　the　subject；　and　Mrs。　Yeobright　had　insisted　upon　this。
  One　day　just　before　this　time　Wildeve　was　standing　at　the　door　of　the　Quiet　Woman。　　In　addition　to　the　upward　path　through　the　heath　to　Rainbarrow　and　Mistover；　there　was　a　road　which　branched　from　the　highway　a　short　distance　below　the　inn；　and　ascended　to　Mistover　by　a　circuitous　and　easy　incline。　　This　was　the　only　route　on　that　side　for　vehicles　to　the　captain’s　retreat。　　A　light　cart　from　the　nearest　town　descended　the　road；　and　the　lad　who　was　driving　pulled　up　in　front　of　the　inn　for　something　to　drink。
  “You　e　from　Mistover？”　said　Wildeve。
  “Yes。　They　are　taking　in　good　things　up　there。　　Going　to　be　a　wedding。”　　And　the　driver　buried　his　face　in　his　mug。
  Wildeve　had　not　received　an　inkling　of　the　fact　before；　and　a　sudden　expression　of　pain　overspread　his　face。　　He　turned　for　a　moment　into　the　passage　to　hide　it。
  Then　he　came　back　again。
  “Do　you　mean　Miss　Vye？”　he　said。　　“How　is　it—that　she　can　be　married　so　soon？”
  “By　the　will　of　God　and　a　ready　young　man；　I　suppose。”
  “You　don’t　mean　Mr。　Yeobright？”
  “Yes。　He　has　been　creeping　about　with　her　all　the　spring。”
  “I　suppose—she　was　immensely　taken　with　him？”
  “She　is　crazy　about　him；　so　their　general　servant　of　all　work　tells　me。　　And　that　lad　Charley　that　looks　after　the　horse　is　all　in　a　daze　about　it。　　The　stun…poll　has　got　fond…like　of　her。”
  “Is　she　lively—is　she　glad？　　Going　to　be　married　so　soon—well！”
  “It　isn’t　so　very　soon。”
  “No；　not　so　very　soon。”
  Wildeve　went　indoors　to　the　empty　room；　a　curious　heartache　within　him。　　He　rested　his　elbow　upon　the　mantelpiece　and　his　face　upon　his　hand。　　When　Thomasin　entered　the　room　he　did　not　tell　her　of　what　he　had　heard。　　The　old　longing　for　Eustacia　had　reappeared　in　his　soul—and　it　was　mainly　because　he　had　discovered　that　it　was　another　man’s　intention　to　possess　her。
  To　be　yearning　for　the　difficult；　to　be　weary　of　that　offered；　to　care　for　the　remote；　to　dislike　the　near；　it　was　Wildeve’s　nature　always。　　This　is　the　true　mark　of　the　man　of　sentiment。　　Though　Wildeve’s　fevered　feeling　had　not　been　elaborated　to　real　poetical　pass；　it　was　of　the　standard　sort。　　His　might　have　been　called　the　Rousseau　of　Egdon。
  7　… The　Morning　and　the　Evening　of　a　Day
  The　wedding　morning　came。　　Nobody　would　have　imagined　from　appearances　that　Blooms…End　had　any　interest　in　Mistover　that　day。　　A　solemn　stillness　prevailed　around　the　house　of　Clym’s　mother；　and　there　was　no　more　animation　indoors。　　Mrs。　Yeobright；　who　had　declined　to　attend　the　ceremony；　sat　by　the　breakfast　table　in　the　old　room　which　municated　immediately　with　the　porch；　her　eyes　listlessly　directed　towards　the　open　door。　　It　was　the　room　in　which；　six　months　earlier；　the　merry　Christmas　party　had　met；　to　which　Eustacia　came　secretly　and　as　a　stranger。　　The　only　living　thing　that　entered　now　was　a　sparrow；　and　seeing　no　movements　to　cause　alarm；　he　hopped　boldly　round　the　room；　endeavoured　to　go　out　by　the　window；　and　fluttered　among　the　pot…flowers。　This　roused　the　lonely　sitter；　who　got　up；　released　the　bird；　and　went　to　the　door。　　She　was　expecting　Thomasin；　who　had　written　the　night　before　to　state　that　the　time　had　e　when　she　would　wish　to　have　the　money　and　that　she　would　if　possible　call　this　day。
  Yet　Thomasin　occupied　Mrs。　Yeobright’s　thoughts　but　slightly　as　she　looked　up　the　valley　of　the　heath；　alive　with　butterflies；　and　with　grasshoppers　whose　husky　noises　on　every　side　formed　a　whispered　chorus。　　A　domestic　drama；　for　which　the　preparations　were　now　being　made　a　mile　or　two　off；　was　but　little　less　vividly　present　to　her　eyes　than　if　enacted　before　her。　　She　tried　to　dismiss　the　vision；　and　walked　about　the　garden　plot；　but　her　eyes　ever　and　anon　sought　out　the　direction　of　the　parish　church　to　which　Mistover　belonged；　and　her　excited　fancy　clove　the　hills　which　divided　the　building　from　her　eyes。　　The　morning　wore　away。　　Eleven　o’clock　struck—could　it　be　that　the　wedding　was　then　in　progress？　　It　must　be　so。　　She　we