Eleven　o’clock　struck—could　it　be　that　the　wedding　was　then　in　progress？　　It　must　be　so。　　She　went　on　imagining　the　scene　at　the　church；　which　he　had　by　this　time　approached　with　his　bride。　　She　pictured　the　little　group　of　children　by　the　gate　as　the　pony　carriage　drove　up　in　which；　as　Thomasin　had　learnt；　they　were　going　to　perform　the　short　journey。　　Then　she　saw　them　enter　and　proceed　to　the　chancel　and　kneel；　and　the　service　seemed　to　go　on。
  She　covered　her　face　with　her　hands。　　“O；　it　is　a　mistake！”　she　groaned。　　“And　he　will　rue　it　some　day；　and　think　of　me！”
  While　she　remained　thus；　overe　by　her　forebodings；　the　old　clock　indoors　whizzed　forth　twelve　strokes。　　Soon　after；　faint　sounds　floated　to　her　ear　from　afar　over　the　hills。　　The　breeze　came　from　that　quarter；　and　it　had　brought　with　it　the　notes　of　distant　bells；　gaily　starting　off　in　a　peal：　one；　two；　three；　four；　five。　　The　ringers　at　East　Egdon　were　announcing　the　nuptials　of　Eustacia　and　her　son。
  “Then　it　is　over；”　she　murmured。　　“Well；　well！　and　life　too　will　be　over　soon。　　And　why　should　I　go　on　scalding　my　face　like　this？　　Cry　about　one　thing　in　life；　cry　about　all；　one　thread　runs　through　the　whole　piece。　　And　yet　we　say；　‘a　time　to　laugh！’”
  Towards　evening　Wildeve　came。　　Since　Thomasin’s　marriage　Mrs。　Yeobright　had　shown　him　that　grim　friendliness　which　at　last　arises　in　all　such　cases　of　undesired　affinity。　　The　vision　of　what　ought　to　have　been　is　thrown　aside　in　sheer　weariness；　and　browbeaten　human　endeavour　listlessly　makes　the　best　of　the　fact　that　is。　　Wildeve；　to　do　him　justice；　had　behaved　very　courteously　to　his　wife’s　aunt；　and　it　was　with　no　surprise　that　she　saw　him　enter　now。
  “Thomasin　has　not　been　able　to　e；　as　she　promised　to　do；”　he　replied　to　her　inquiry；　which　had　been　anxious；　for　she　knew　that　her　niece　was　badly　in　want　of　money。
  “The　captain　came　down　last　night　and　personally　pressed　her　to　join　them　today。　　So；　not　to　be　unpleasant；　she　determined　to　go。　　They　fetched　her　in　the　pony…chaise；　and　are　going　to　bring　her　back。”
  “Then　it　is　done；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。　　“Have　they　gone　to　their　new　home？”
  “I　don’t　know。　　I　have　had　no　news　from　Mistover　since　Thomasin　left　to　go。”
  “You　did　not　go　with　her？”　said　she；　as　if　there　might　be　good　reasons　why。
  “I　could　not；”　said　Wildeve；　reddening　slightly。　　“We　could　not　both　leave　the　house；　it　was　rather　a　busy　morning；　on　account　of　Anglebury　Great　Market。　　I　believe　you　have　something　to　give　to　Thomasin？　　If　you　like；　I　will　take　it。”
  Mrs。　Yeobright　hesitated；　and　wondered　if　Wildeve　knew　what　the　something　was。　　“Did　she　tell　you　of　this？”　she　inquired。
  “Not　particularly。　　She　casually　dropped　a　remark　about　having　arranged　to　fetch　some　article　or　other。”
  “It　is　hardly　necessary　to　send　it。　　She　can　have　it　whenever　she　chooses　to　e。”
  “That　won’t　be　yet。　　In　the　present　state　of　her　health　she　must　not　go　on　walking　so　much　as　she　has　done。”　He　added；　with　a　faint　twang　of　sarcasm；　“What　wonderful　thing　is　it　that　I　cannot　be　trusted　to　take？”
  “Nothing　worth　troubling　you　with。”
  “One　would　think　you　doubted　my　honesty；”　he　said；　with　a　laugh；　though　his　colour　rose　in　a　quick　resentfulness　frequent　with　him。
  “You　need　think　no　such　thing；”　said　she　drily。　　“It　is　simply　that　I；　in　mon　with　the　rest　of　the　world；　feel　that　there　are　certain　things　which　had　better　be　done　by　certain　people　than　by　others。”
  “As　you　like；　as　you　like；”　said　Wildeve　laconically。　　“It　is　not　worth　arguing　about。　　Well；　I　think　I　must　turn　homeward　again；　as　the　inn　must　not　be　left　long　in　charge　of　the　lad　and　the　maid　only。”
  He　went　his　way；　his　farewell　being　scarcely　so　courteous　as　his　greeting。　　But　Mrs。　Yeobright　knew　him　thoroughly　by　this　time；　and　took　little　notice　of　his　manner；　good　or　bad。
  When　Wildeve　was　gone　Mrs。　Yeobright　stood　and　considered　what　would　be　the　best　course　to　adopt　with　regard　to　the　guineas；　which　she　had　not　liked　to　entrust　to　Wildeve。　　It　was　hardly　credible　that　Thomasin　had　told　him　to　ask　for　them；　when　the　necessity　for　them　had　arisen　from　the　difficulty　of　obtaining　money　at　his　hands。　　At　the　same　time　Thomasin　really　wanted　them；　and　might　be　unable　to　e　to　Blooms…End　for　another　week　at　least。　　To　take　or　send　the　money　to　her　at　the　inn　would　be　impolite；　since　Wildeve　would　pretty　surely　be　present；　or　would　discover　the　transaction；　and　if；　as　her　aunt　suspected；　he　treated　her　less　kindly　than　she　deserved　to　be　treated；　he　might　then　get　the　whole　sum　out　of　her　gentle　hands。　　But　on　this　particular　evening　Thomasin　was　at　Mistover；　and　anything　might　be　conveyed　to　her　there　without　the　knowledge　of　her　husband。　　Upon　the　whole　the　opportunity　was　worth　taking　advantage　of。
  Her　son；　too；　was　there；　and　was　now　married。　　There　could　be　no　more　proper　moment　to　render　him　his　share　of　the　money　than　the　present。　　And　the　chance　that　would　be　afforded　her；　by　sending　him　this　gift；　of　showing　how　far　she　was　from　bearing　him　ill…will；　cheered　the　sad　mother’s　heart。
  She　went　upstairs　and　took　from　a　locked　drawer　a　little　box；　out　of　which　she　poured　a　hoard　of　broad　unworn　guineas　that　had　lain　there　many　a　year。　　There　were　a　hundred　in　all；　and　she　divided　them　into　two　heaps；　fifty　in　each。　　Tying　up　these　in　small　canvas　bags；　she　went　down　to　the　garden　and　called　to　Christian　Cantle；　who　was　loitering　about　in　hope　of　a　supper　which　was　not　really　owed　him。　　Mrs。　Yeobright　gave　him　the　moneybags；　charged　him　to　go　to　Mistover；　and　on　no　account　to　deliver　them　into　any　one’s　hands　save　her　son’s　and　Thomasin’s。　On　further　thought　she　deemed　it　advisable　to　tell　Christian　precisely　what　the　two　bags　contained；　that　he　might　be　fully　impressed　with　their　importance。　　Christian　pocketed　the　moneybags；　promised　the　greatest　carefulness；　and　set　out　on　his　way。
  “You　need　not　hurry；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。　　“It　will　be　better　not　to　get　there　till　after　dusk；　and　then　nobody　will　notice　you。　　e　back　here　to　supper；　if　it　is　not　too　late。”
  It　was　nearly　nine　o’clock　when　he　began　to　ascend　the　vale　towards　Mistover；　but　the　long　days　of　summer　being　at　their　climax；　the　first　obscurity　of　evening　had　only　just　begun　to　tan　the　landscape。　　At　this　point　of　his　journey　Christian　heard　voices；　and　found　that　they　proceeded　from　a　pany　of　men　and　women　who　were　traversing　a　hollow　ahead　of　him；　the　tops　only　of　their　heads　being　visible。
  He　paused　and　thought　of　the　money　he　carried。　　It　was　almost　too　early　even　for　Christian　seriously　to　fear　robbery；　nevertheless　he　took　a　precaution　which　ever　since　his　boyhood　he　had　adopted　whenever　he　carried　more　than　two　or　three　shillings　upon　his　person—a　precaution　somewhat　like　that　of　the　owner　of　the　Pitt　Diamond　when　filled　with　similar　misgivings。　　He　took　off　his　boots；　untied　the　guineas；　and　emptied　the　contents　of　one　little　bag　into　the　right　boot；　and　of　the　other　into　the　left；　spreading　them　as　flatly　as　possible　over　the　bottom　of　each；　which　was　really　a　spacious　coffer　by　no　means　limited　to　the　size　of　the　foot。　　Pulling　them　on　again　and　lacing　them　to　the　very　top；　he　proceeded　on　his　way；　more　easy　in　his　head　than　under　his　soles。
  His　path　converged　towards　that　of　the　noisy　pany；　and　on　ing　nearer　he　found　to　his　relief　that　they　were　several　Egdon　people　whom　he　knew　very　well；　while　with　them　walked　Fairway；　of　Blooms…End。
  “What！　Christian　going　too？”　said　Fairway　as　soon　as　he　recognized　the　newer。　　“You’ve　got　no　young　woman　nor　wife　to　your　name　to　gie　a　gown…piece　to；　I’m　sure。”
  “What　d’ye　mean？”　said　Christian。
  “Why；　the　raffle。　　The　one　we　go　to　every　year。
  Going　to　the　raffle　as　well　as　ourselves？”
  “Never　knew　a　word　o’t。　Is　it　like　cudgel　playing　or　other　sportful　forms　of　bloodshed？　　I　don’t　want　to　go；　thank　you；　Mister　Fairway；　and　no　offence。”
  “Christian　don’t　know　the　fun　o’t；　and　‘twould　be　a　fine　sight　for　him；”　said　a　buxom　woman。　　“There’s　no　danger　at　all；　Christian。　　Every　man　puts　in　a　shilling　apiece；　and　one　wins　a　gown…piece　for　his　wife　or　sweetheart　if　he’s　got　one。”
  “Well；　as　that’s　not　my　fortune　there’s　no　meaning　in　it　to　me。　　But　I　should　like　to　see　the　fun；　if　there’s　nothing　of　the　black　art　in　it；　and　if　a　man　may　look　on　without　cost　or　getting　into　any　dangerous　wrangle？”
  “There　will　be　no　uproar　at　all；”　said　Timothy。　　“Sure；　Christian；　if　you’d　like　to　e　we’ll　see　there’s　no　harm　done。”
  “And　no　ba’dy　gaieties；　I　suppose？　　You　see；　neighbours；　if　so；　it　would　be　setting　father　a　bad　example；　as　he　is　so　light　moral’d。　But　a　gown…piece　for　a　shilling；　and　no　black　art—‘tis　worth　looking　in　to　see；　and　it　wouldn’t　hinder　me　half　an　hour。　　Yes；　I’ll　e；　if　you’ll　step　a　little　way　towards　Mistover　with　me　afterwards；　supposing　night　should　have　closed　in；　and　nobody　else　is　going　that　way？”
  One　or　two　promised；　and　Christian；　diverging　from　his　direct　path；　turned　round　to　the　right　with　his　panions　towards　the　Quiet　Woman。
  When　they　entered　the　large　mon　room　of　the　inn　they　found　assembled　there　about　ten　men　from　among　the　neighbouring　population；　and　the　group　was　increased　by　the　new　contingent　to　double　that