还乡The Return Of The Native-第67部分

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I　can　no　longer　think　of　you　to　your　prejudice—I　am
but　too　much　absorbed　in　justifying　you。—Your　husband
as　ever；
CLYM。　

“There；”　he　said；　as　he　laid　it　in　his　desk；　“that’s　a　good　thing　done。　　If　she　does　not　e　before　tomorrow　night　I　will　send　it　to　her。”
Meanwhile；　at　the　house　he　had　just　left　Thomasin　sat　sighing　uneasily。　　Fidelity　to　her　husband　had　that　evening　induced　her　to　conceal　all　suspicion　that　Wildeve’s　interest　in　Eustacia　had　not　ended　with　his　marriage。　　But　she　knew　nothing　positive；　and　though　Clym　was　her　well…beloved　cousin　there　was　one　nearer　to　her　still。　
When；　a　little　later；　Wildeve　returned　from　his　walk　to　Mistover；　Thomasin　said；　“Damon；　where　have　you　been？　　I　was　getting　quite　frightened；　and　thought　you　had　fallen　into　the　river。　　I　dislike　being　in　the　house　by　myself。”
“Frightened？”　he　said；　touching　her　cheek　as　if　she　were　some　domestic　animal。　　“Why；　I　thought　nothing　could　frighten　you。　　It　is　that　you　are　getting　proud；　I　am　sure；　and　don’t　like　living　here　since　we　have　risen　above　our　business。　　Well；　it　is　a　tedious　matter；　this　getting　a　new　house；　but　I　couldn’t　have　set　about　it　sooner；　unless　our　ten　thousand　pounds　had　been　a　hundred　thousand；　when　we　could　have　afforded　to　despise　caution。”
“No—I　don’t　mind　waiting—I　would　rather　stay　here　twelve　months　longer　than　run　any　risk　with　baby。　　But　I　don’t　like　your　vanishing　so　in　the　evenings。　
There’s　something　on　your　mind—I　know　there　is；　Damon。　　You　go　about　so　gloomily；　and　look　at　the　heath　as　if　it　were　somebody’s　gaol　instead　of　a　nice　wild　place　to　walk　in。”
He　looked　towards　her　with　pitying　surprise。　　“What；　do　you　like　Egdon　Heath？”　he　said。　
“I　like　what　I　was　born　near　to；　I　admire　its　grim　old　face。”
“Pooh；　my　dear。　　You　don’t　know　what　you　like。”
“I　am　sure　I　do。　　There’s　only　one　thing　unpleasant　about　Egdon。”
“What’s　that？”
“You　never　take　me　with　you　when　you　walk　there。　　Why　do　you　wander　so　much　in　it　yourself　if　you　so　dislike　it？”
The　inquiry；　though　a　simple　one；　was　plainly　disconcerting；　and　he　sat　down　before　replying。　　“I　don’t　think　you　often　see　me　there。　　Give　an　instance。”
“I　will；”　she　answered　triumphantly。　　“When　you　went　out　this　evening　I　thought　that　as　baby　was　asleep　I　would　see　where　you　were　going　to　so　mysteriously　without　telling　me。　　So　I　ran　out　and　followed　behind　you。　　You　stopped　at　the　place　where　the　road　forks；　looked　round　at　the　bonfires；　and　then　said；　‘Damn　it；　I’ll　go！’　And　you　went　quickly　up　the　left…hand　road。　　Then　I　stood　and　watched　you。”
Wildeve　frowned；　afterwards　saying；　with　a　forced　smile；　“Well；　what　wonderful　discovery　did　you　make？”
“There—now　you　are　angry；　and　we　won’t　talk　of　this　any　more。”　　She　went　across　to　him；　sat　on　a　footstool；　and　looked　up　in　his　face。　
“Nonsense！”　he　said；　“that’s　how　you　always　back　out。　　We　will　go　on　with　it　now　we　have　begun。　　What　did　you　next　see？　　I　particularly　want　to　know。”
“Don’t　be　like　that；　Damon！”　she　murmured。　　“I　didn’t　see　anything。　　You　vanished　out　of　sight；　and　then　I　looked　round　at　the　bonfires　and　came　in。”
“Perhaps　this　is　not　the　only　time　you　have　dogged　my　steps。　
Are　you　trying　to　find　out　something　bad　about　me？”
“Not　at　all！　I　have　never　done　such　a　thing　before；　and　I　shouldn’t　have　done　it　now　if　words　had　not　sometimes　been　dropped　about　you。”
“What　DO　you　mean？”　he　impatiently　asked。
“They　say—they　say　you　used　to　go　to　Alderworth　in
the　evenings；　and　it　puts　into　my　mind　what　I　have　heard　about—“
Wildeve　turned　angrily　and　stood　up　in　front　of　her。　　“Now；”　he　said；　flourishing　his　hand　in　the　air；　“just　out　with　it；　madam！　I　demand　to　know　what　remarks　you　have　heard。”
“Well；　I　heard　that　you　used　to　be　very　fond　of　Eustacia—nothing　more　than　that；　though　dropped　in　a　bit…by…bit　way。　　You　ought　not　to　be　angry！”
He　observed　that　her　eyes　were　brimming　with　tears。　　“Well；”　he　said；　“there　is　nothing　new　in　that；　and　of　course　I　don’t　mean　to　be　rough　towards　you；　so　you　need　not　cry。　　Now；　don’t　let　us　speak　of　the　subject　any　more。”
And　no　more　was　said；　Thomasin　being　glad　enough　of　a　reason　for　not　mentioning　Clym’s　visit　to　her　that　evening；　and　his　story。


7　… The　Night　of　the　Sixth　of　November


Having　resolved　on　flight　Eustacia　at　times　seemed　anxious　that　something　should　happen　to　thwart　her　own　intention。　　The　only　event　that　could　really　change　her　position　was　the　appearance　of　Clym。　　The　glory　which　had　encircled　him　as　her　lover　was　departed　now；　yet　some　good　simple　quality　of　his　would　occasionally　return　to　her　memory　and　stir　a　momentary　throb　of　hope　that　he　would　again　present　himself　before　her。　　But　calmly　considered　it　was　not　likely　that　such　a　severance　as　now　existed　would　ever　close　up—she　would　have　to　live　on　as　a　painful　object；　isolated；　and　out　of　place。　　She　had　used　to　think　of　the　heath　alone　as　an　uncongenial　spot　to　be　in；　she　felt　it　now　of　the　whole　world。　
Towards　evening　on　the　sixth　her　determination　to　go　away　again　revived。　　About　four　o’clock　she　packed　up　anew　the　few　small　articles　she　had　brought　in　her　flight　from　Alderworth；　and　also　some　belonging　to　her　which　had　been　left　here；　the　whole　formed　a　bundle　not　too　large　to　be　carried　in　her　hand　for　a　distance　of　a　mile　or　two。　　The　scene　without　grew　darker；　mud…coloured　clouds　bellied　downwards　from　the　sky　like　vast　hammocks　slung　across　it；　and　with　the　increase　of　night　a　stormy　wind　arose；　but　as　yet　there　was　no　rain。　
Eustacia　could　not　rest　indoors；　having　nothing　more　to　do；　and　she　wandered　to　and　fro　on　the　hill；　not　far　from　the　house　she　was　soon　to　leave。　　In　these　desultory　ramblings　she　passed　the　cottage　of　Susan　Nunsuch；　a　little　lower　down　than　her　grandfather’s。　The　door　was　ajar；　and　a　riband　of　bright　firelight　fell　over　the　ground　without。　　As　Eustacia　crossed　the　firebeams　she　appeared　for　an　instant　as　distinct　as　a　figure　in　a　phantasmagoria—a　creature　of　light　surrounded　by　an　area　of　darkness；　the　moment　passed；　and　she　was　absorbed　in　night　again。　
A　woman　who　was　sitting　inside　the　cottage　had　seen　and　recognized　her　in　that　momentary　irradiation。　　This　was　Susan　herself；　occupied　in　preparing　a　posset　for　her　little　boy；　who；　often　ailing；　was　now　seriously　unwell。　　Susan　dropped　the　spoon；　shook　her　fist　at　the　vanished　figure；　and　then　proceeded　with　her　work　in　a　musing；　absent　way。　
At　eight　o’clock；　the　hour　at　which　Eustacia　had　promised　to　signal　Wildeve　if　ever　she　signalled　at　all；　she　looked　around　the　premises　to　learn　if　the　coast　was　clear；　went　to　the　furze…rick；　and　pulled　thence　a　long…stemmed　bough　of　that　fuel。　　This　she　carried　to　the　corner　of　the　bank；　and；　glancing　behind　to　see　if　the　shutters　were　all　closed；　she　struck　a　light；　and　kindled　the　furze。　　When　it　was　thoroughly　ablaze　Eustacia　took　it　by　the　stem　and　waved　it　in　the　air　above　her　head　till　it　had　burned　itself　out。　
She　was　gratified；　if　gratification　were　possible　to　such　a　mood；　by　seeing　a　similar　light　in　the　vicinity　of　Wildeve’s　residence　a　minute　or　two　later。　　Having　agreed　to　keep　watch　at　this　hour　every　night；　in　case　she　should　require　assistance；　this　promptness　proved　how　strictly　he　had　held　to　his　word。　　Four　hours　after　the　present　time；　that　is；　at　midnight；　he　was　to　be　ready　to　drive　her　to　Budmouth；　as　prearranged。　
Eustacia　returned　to　the　house。　　Supper　having　been　got　over　she　retired　early；　and　sat　in　her　bedroom　waiting　for　the　time　to　go　by。　　The　night　being　dark　and　threatening；　Captain　Vye　had　not　strolled　out　to　gossip　in　any　cottage　or　to　call　at　the　inn；　as　was　sometimes　his　custom　on　these　long　autumn　nights；　and　he　sat　sipping　grog　alone　downstairs。　　About　ten　o’clock　there　was　a　knock　at　the　door。　　When　the　servant　opened　it　the　rays　of　the　candle　fell　upon　the　form　of　Fairway。　
“I　was　a…forced　to　go　to　Lower　Mistover　tonight；”　he　said；　“and　Mr。　Yeobright　asked　me　to　leave　this　here　on　my　way；　but；　faith；　I　put　it　in　the　lining　of　my　hat；　and　thought　no　more　about　it　till　I　got　back　and　was　hasping　my　gate　before　going　to　bed。　　So　I　have　run　back　with　it　at　once。”
He　handed　in　a　letter　and　went　his　way。　　The　girl　brought　it　to　the　captain；　who　found　that　it　was　directed　to　Eustacia。　　He　turned　it　over　and　over；　and　fancied　that　the　writing　was　her　husband’s；　though　he　could　not　be　sure。　　However；　he　decided　to　let　her　have　it　at　once　if　possible；　and　took　it　upstairs　for　that　purpose；　but　on　reaching　the　door　of　her　room　and　looking　in　at　the　keyhole　he　found　there　was　no　light　within；　the　fact　being　that　Eustacia；　without　undressing；　had　flung　herself　upon　the　bed；　to　rest　and　gather　a　little　strength　for　her　ing　journey。　　Her　grandfather　concluded　from　what　he　saw　that　he　ought　not　to　disturb　her；　and　descending　again　to　the　parlour　he　placed　the　letter　on　the　mantelpiece　to　give　it　to　her　in　the　morning。　
At　eleven　o’clock　he　went　to　bed　himself；　smoked　for　some　time　in　his　bedroom；　put　out　his　light　at　half…past　eleven；　and　then；　as　was　his　invariable　custom；　pulled　up　the　blind　before　getting　into　bed；　that　he　might　see　which　way　the　wind　blew　on　opening　his　eyes　in　the　morning；　his　bedroom　window　manding　a　view　of　the　flagstaff　and　vane。　　Just　as　he　had　lain　down　he　was　surprised　to　observe　the　white　pole　of　the　staff　flash　into　existence　like　a　streak　of　phosphorus　drawn　downwards　across　the　shade　of　night　without。　　Only　one　explanation　met　this—a　light　had　been　suddenly　thrown　upon　the　pole　from　the　direction　of　the　house。　　As　everybody　had　retired　to　rest　the　old　man　felt　it　necessary　to　get　out　of　bed；　open　the　window　softly；　and　look　to　the　right　and　left。　　Eustacia’s　bedroom　was　lighted　up；　and　it　was　the　shine　from　her　window　which　had　lighted　the　pole。　　Wondering　what　had　aroused　her；　he　remained　undecided　at　the　window；　and　was　thinking　of　fetching　the　letter　to　slip　it　under　her　door；　when　he　heard　a　slight　brushing　of　garments　on　the　partition　dividing　his　room　from　the　passage。　
The　captain　concluded　that　Eustacia；　feeling　wakeful；　had　gone　for　a　book；　and　would　have　dismissed　the　matter　as　unimportant　if　he　had　not　also　heard　her　distinctly　weeping　as　she　passed。
“She　is　thinking　o