“No；”　he　sighed。
  “And　you　will　not　e　in；　then？”
  “Not　tonight；　thank　you；　ma’am。”
  “Shall　I　lend　you　a　lantern　to　look　for　the　young　person’s　glove；　Mr。　Venn？”
  “O　no；　it　is　not　necessary；　Mrs。　Wildeve；　thank　you。
  The　moon　will　rise　in　a　few　minutes。”
  Thomasin　went　back　to　the　porch。　　“Is　he　ing　in？”　said　Clym；　who　had　been　waiting　where　she　had　left　him。
  “He　would　rather　not　tonight；”　she　said；　and　then　passed　by　him　into　the　house；　whereupon　Clym　too　retired　to　his　own　rooms。
  When　Clym　was　gone　Thomasin　crept　upstairs　in　the　dark；　and；　just　listening　by　the　cot；　to　assure　herself　that　the　child　was　asleep；　she　went　to　the　window；　gently　lifted　the　corner　of　the　white　curtain；　and　looked　out。　　Venn　was　still　there。　　She　watched　the　growth　of　the　faint　radiance　appearing　in　the　sky　by　the　eastern　hill；　till　presently　the　edge　of　the　moon　burst　upwards　and　flooded　the　valley　with　light。　　Diggory’s　form　was　now　distinct　on　the　green；　he　was　moving　about　in　a　bowed　attitude；　evidently　scanning　the　grass　for　the　precious　missing　article；　walking　in　zigzags　right　and　left　till　he　should　have　passed　over　every　foot　of　the　ground。
  “How　very　ridiculous！”　Thomasin　murmured　to　herself；　in　a　tone　which　was　intended　to　be　satirical。　　“To　think　that　a　man　should　be　so　silly　as　to　go　mooning　about　like　that　for　a　girl’s　glove！　A　respectable　dairyman；　too；　and　a　man　of　money　as　he　is　now。　　What　a　pity！”
  At　last　Venn　appeared　to　find　it；　whereupon　he　stood　up　and　raised　it　to　his　lips。　　Then　placing　it　in　his　breastpocket—the　nearest　receptacle　to　a　man’s　heart　permitted　by　modern　raiment—he　ascended　the　valley　in　a　mathematically　direct　line　towards　his　distant　home　in　the　meadows。
  2　… Thomasin　Walks　in　a　Green　Place　by　the　Roman　Road
  Clym　saw　little　of　Thomasin　for　several　days　after　this；　and　when　they　met　she　was　more　silent　than　usual。　　At　length　he　asked　her　what　she　was　thinking　of　so　intently。
  “I　am　thoroughly　perplexed；”　she　said　candidly。　　“I　cannot　for　my　life　think　who　it　is　that　Diggory　Venn　is　so　much　in　love　with。　　None　of　the　girls　at　the　Maypole　were　good　enough　for　him；　and　yet　she　must　have　been　there。”
  Clym　tried　to　imagine　Venn’s　choice　for　a　moment；　but　ceasing　to　be　interested　in　the　question　he　went　on　again　with　his　gardening。
  No　clearing　up　of　the　mystery　was　granted　her　for　some　time。　　But　one　afternoon　Thomasin　was　upstairs　getting　ready　for　a　walk；　when　she　had　occasion　to　e　to　the　landing　and　call　“Rachel。”　　Rachel　was　a　girl　about　thirteen；　who　carried　the　baby　out　for　airings；　and　she　came　upstairs　at　the　call。
  “Have　you　seen　one　of　my　last　new　gloves　about　the　house；　Rachel？”　inquired　Thomasin。　　“It　is　the　fellow　to　this　one。”
  Rachel　did　not　reply。
  “Why　don’t　you　answer？”　said　her　mistress。
  “I　think　it　is　lost；　ma’am。”
  “Lost？　　Who　lost　it？　　I　have　never　worn　them　but　once。”
  Rachel　appeared　as　one　dreadfully　troubled；　and　at　last　began　to　cry。　　“Please；　ma’am；　on　the　day　of　the　Maypole　I　had　none　to　wear；　and　I　seed　yours　on　the　table；　and　I　thought　I　would　borrow　‘em。　I　did　not　mean　to　hurt　‘em　at　all；　but　one　of　them　got　lost。　　Somebody　gave　me　some　money　to　buy　another　pair　for　you；　but　I　have　not　been　able　to　go　anywhere　to　get　‘em。”
  “Who’s　somebody？”
  “Mr。　Venn。”
  “Did　he　know　it　was　my　glove？”
  “Yes。　I　told　him。”
  Thomasin　was　so　surprised　by　the　explanation　that　she　quite　forgot　to　lecture　the　girl；　who　glided　silently　away。　　Thomasin　did　not　move　further　than　to　turn　her　eyes　upon　the　grass…plat　where　the　Maypole　had　stood。　　She　remained　thinking；　then　said　to　herself　that　she　would　not　go　out　that　afternoon；　but　would　work　hard　at　the　baby’s　unfinished　lovely　plaid　frock；　cut　on　the　cross　in　the　newest　fashion。　　How　she　managed　to　work　hard；　and　yet　do　no　more　than　she　had　done　at　the　end　of　two　hours；　would　have　been　a　mystery　to　anyone　not　aware　that　the　recent　incident　was　of　a　kind　likely　to　divert　her　industry　from　a　manual　to　a　mental　channel。
  Next　day　she　went　her　ways　as　usual；　and　continued　her　custom　of　walking　in　the　heath　with　no　other　panion　than　little　Eustacia；　now　of　the　age　when　it　is　a　matter　of　doubt　with　such　characters　whether　they　are　intended　to　walk　through　the　world　on　their　hands　or　on　their　feet；　so　that　they　get　into　painful　plications　by　trying　both。　　It　was　very　pleasant　to　Thomasin；　when　she　had　carried　the　child　to　some　lonely　place；　to　give　her　a　little　private　practice　on　the　green　turf　and　shepherd’s…thyme；　which　formed　a　soft　mat　to　fall　headlong　upon　them　when　equilibrium　was　lost。
  Once；　when　engaged　in　this　system　of　training；　and　stooping　to　remove　bits　of　stick；　fern…stalks；　and　other　such　fragments　from　the　child’s　path；　that　the　journey　might　not　be　brought　to　an　untimely　end　by　some　insuperable　barrier　a　quarter　of　an　inch　high；　she　was　alarmed　by　discovering　that　a　man　on　horseback　was　almost　close　beside　her；　the　soft　natural　carpet　having　muffled　the　horse’s　tread。　　The　rider；　who　was　Venn；　waved　his　hat　in　the　air　and　bowed　gallantly。
  “Diggory；　give　me　my　glove；”　said　Thomasin；　whose　manner　it　was　under　any　circumstances　to　plunge　into　the　midst　of　a　subject　which　engrossed　her。
  Venn　immediately　dismounted；　put　his　hand　in　his　breastpocket；　and　handed　the　glove。
  “Thank　you。　　It　was　very　good　of　you　to　take　care　of　it。”
  “It　is　very　good　of　you　to　say　so。”
  “O　no。　　I　was　quite　glad　to　find　you　had　it。　　Everybody　gets　so　indifferent　that　I　was　surprised　to　know　you　thought　of　me。”
  “If　you　had　remembered　what　I　was　once　you　wouldn’t　have　been　surprised。”
  “Ah；　no；”　she　said　quickly。　　“But　men　of　your　character　are　mostly　so　independent。”
  “What　is　my　character？”　he　asked。
  “I　don’t　exactly　know；”　said　Thomasin　simply；　“except　it　is　to　cover　up　your　feelings　under　a　practical　manner；　and　only　to　show　them　when　you　are　alone。”
  “Ah；　how　do　you　know　that？”　said　Venn　strategically。
  “Because；”　said　she；　stopping　to　put　the　little　girl；　who　had　managed　to　get　herself　upside　down；　right　end　up　again；　“because　I　do。”
  “You　mustn’t　judge　by　folks　in　general；”　said　Venn。
  “Still　I　don’t　know　much　what　feelings　are　nowadays。　　I　have　got　so　mixed　up　with　business　of　one　sort　and　t’other　that　my　soft　sentiments　are　gone　off　in　vapour　like。　　Yes；　I　am　given　up　body　and　soul　to　the　making　of　money。
  Money　is　all　my　dream。”
  “O　Diggory；　how　wicked！”　said　Thomasin　reproachfully；　and　looking　at　him　in　exact　balance　between　taking　his　words　seriously　and　judging　them　as　said　to　tease　her。
  “Yes；　‘tis　rather　a　rum　course；”　said　Venn；　in　the　bland　tone　of　one　fortably　resigned　to　sins　he　could　no　longer　overe。
  “You；　who　used　to　be　so　nice！”
  “Well；　that’s　an　argument　I　rather　like；　because　what　a　man　has　once　been　he　may　be　again。”　　Thomasin　blushed。　　“Except　that　it　is　rather　harder　now；”　Venn　continued。
  “Why？”　she　asked。
  “Because　you　be　richer　than　you　were　at　that　time。”
  “O　no—not　much。　　I　have　made　it　nearly　all　over　to　the　baby；　as　it　was　my　duty　to　do；　except　just　enough　to　live　on。”
  “I　am　rather　glad　of　that；”　said　Venn　softly；　and　regarding　her　from　the　corner　of　his　eye；　“for　it　makes　it　easier　for　us　to　be　friendly。”
  Thomasin　blushed　again；　and；　when　a　few　more　words　had　been　said　of　a　not　unpleasing　kind；　Venn　mounted　his　horse　and　rode　on。
  This　conversation　had　passed　in　a　hollow　of　the　heath　near　the　old　Roman　road；　a　place　much　frequented　by　Thomasin。　　And　it　might　have　been　observed　that　she　did　not　in　future　walk　that　way　less　often　from　having　met　Venn　there　now。　　Whether　or　not　Venn　abstained　from　riding　thither　because　he　had　met　Thomasin　in　the　same　place　might　easily　have　been　guessed　from　her　proceedings　about　two　months　later　in　the　same　year。
  3　… The　Serious　Discourse　of　Clym　with　His　Cousin
  Throughout　this　period　Yeobright　had　more　or　less　pondered　on　his　duty　to　his　cousin　Thomasin。　　He　could　not　help　feeling　that　it　would　be　a　pitiful　waste　of　sweet　material　if　the　tender…natured　thing　should　be　doomed　from　this　early　stage　of　her　life　onwards　to　dribble　away　her　winsome　qualities　on　lonely　gorse　and　fern。　　But　he　felt　this　as　an　economist　merely；　and　not　as　a　lover。　　His　passion　for　Eustacia　had　been　a　sort　of　conserve　of　his　whole　life；　and　he　had　nothing　more　of　that　supreme　quality　left　to　bestow。　　So　far　the　obvious　thing　was　not　to　entertain　any　idea　of　marriage　with　Thomasin；　even　to　oblige　her。
  But　this　was　not　all。　　Years　ago　there　had　been　in　his　mother’s　mind　a　great　fancy　about　Thomasin　and　himself。　　It　had　not　positively　amounted　to　a　desire；　but　it　had　always　been　a　favourite　dream。　　That　they　should　be　man　and　wife　in　good　time；　if　the　happiness　of　neither　were　endangered　thereby；　was　the　fancy　in　question。　　So　that　what　course　save　one　was　there　now　left　for　any　son　who　reverenced　his　mother’s　memory　as　Yeobright　did？　　It　is　an　unfortunate　fact　that　any　particular　whim　of　parents；　which　might　have　been　dispersed　by　half　an　hour’s　conversation　during　their　lives；　bees　sublimated　by　their　deaths　into　a　fiat　the　most　absolute；　with　such　results　to　conscientious　children　as　those　parents；　had　they　lived；　would　have　been　the　first　to　decry。
  Had　only　Yeobri