by Thomas Hardy
VI
A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian
Wildeve, as has been stated, was determined to visit Eustacia boldly,by day, and on the easy terms of a relation, since the reddlemanhad spied out and spoilt his walks to her by night. The spell thatshe had thrown over him in the moonlight dance made it impossiblefor a man having no strong puritanic force within him to keep awayaltogether. He merely calculated on meeting her and her husband in anordinary manner, chatting a little while, and leaving again. Everyoutward sign was to be conventional; but the one great fact would bethere to satisfy him: he would see her. He did not even desire Clym'sabsence, since it was just possible that Eustacia might resent anysituation which could compromise her dignity as a wife, whatever thestate of her heart towards him. Women were often so.
He went accordingly; and it happened that the time of his arrivalcoincided with that of Mrs. Yeobright's pause on the hill near thehouse. When he had looked round the premises in the manner she hadnoticed he went and knocked at the door. There was a few minutes'interval, and then the key turned in the lock, the door opened, andEustacia herself confronted him.
Nobody could have imagined from her bearing now that here stood thewoman who had joined with him in the impassioned dance of the weekbefore, unless indeed he could have penetrated below the surface andgauged the real depth of that still stream.
"I hope you reached home safely?" said Wildeve.
"O yes," she carelessly returned.
"And were you not tired the next day? I feared you might be."
"I was rather. You need not speak low--nobody will overhear us. Mysmall servant is gone on an errand to the village."
"Then Clym is not at home?"
"Yes, he is."
"O! I thought that perhaps you had locked the door because you werealone and were afraid of tramps."
"No--here is my husband."
They had been standing in the entry. Closing the front door andturning the key, as before, she threw open the door of the adjoiningroom and asked him to walk in. Wildeve entered, the room appearing tobe empty; but as soon as he had advanced a few steps he started. Onthe hearth rug lay Clym asleep. Beside him were the leggings, thickboots, leather gloves, and sleeve-waistcoat in which he worked.
"You may go in; you will not disturb him," she said, following behind."My reason for fastening the door is that he may not be intruded uponby any chance comer while lying here, if I should be in the garden orupstairs."
"Why is he sleeping there?" said Wildeve in low tones.
"He is very weary. He went out at half-past four this morning, andhas been working ever since. He cuts furze because it is the onlything he can do that does not put any strain upon his poor eyes." Thecontrast between the sleeper's appearance and Wildeve's at this momentwas painfully apparent to Eustacia, Wildeve being elegantly dressedin a new summer suit and light hat; and she continued: "Ah! you don'tknow how differently he appeared when I first met him, though it issuch a little while ago. His hands were as white and soft as mine;and look at them now, how rough and brown they are! His complexion isby nature fair, and that rusty look he has now, all of a colour withhis leather clothes, is caused by the burning of the sun."
"Why does he go out at all?" Wildeve whispered.
"Because he hates to be idle; though what he earns doesn't add muchto our exchequer. However, he says that when people are living upontheir capital they must keep down current expenses by turning a pennywhere they can."
"The fates have not been kind to you, Eustacia Yeobright."
"I have nothing to thank them for."
"Nor has he--except for their one great gift to him."
"What's that?"
Wildeve looked her in the eyes.
Eustacia blushed for the first time that day. "Well, I am aquestionable gift," she said quietly. "I thought you meant the giftof content--which he has, and I have not."
"I can understand content in such a case--though how the outwardsituation can attract him puzzles me."
"That's because you don't know him. He's an enthusiast about ideas,and careless about outward things. He often reminds me of the ApostlePaul."
"I am glad to hear that he's so grand in character as that."
"Yes; but the worst of it is that though Paul was excellent as a manin the Bible he would hardly have done in real life."
Their voices had instinctively dropped lower, though at first theyhad taken no particular care to avoid awakening Clym. "Well, if thatmeans that your marriage is a misfortune to you, you know who is toblame," said Wildeve.
"The marriage is no misfortune in itself," she retorted with somelittle petulance. "It is simply the accident which has happened sincethat has been the cause of my ruin. I have certainly got thistles forfigs in a worldly sense, but how could I tell what time would bringforth?"
"Sometimes, Eustacia, I think it is a judgment upon you. You rightlybelonged to me, you know; and I had no idea of losing you."
"No, it was not my fault! Two could not belong to you; and rememberthat, before I was aware, you turned aside to another woman. It wascruel levity in you to do that. I never dreamt of playing such a gameon my side till you began it on yours."
"I meant nothing by it," replied Wildeve. "It was a mere interlude.Men are given to the trick of having a passing fancy for somebody elsein the midst of a permanent love, which reasserts itself afterwardsjust as before. On account of your rebellious manner to me I wastempted to go further than I should have done; and when you stillwould keep playing the same tantalizing part I went further still,and married her." Turning and looking again at the unconscious formof Clym, he murmured, "I am afraid that you don't value your prize,Clym... He ought to be happier than I in one thing at least. He mayknow what it is to come down in the world, and to be afflicted with agreat personal calamity; but he probably doesn't know what it is tolose the woman he loved."
"He is not ungrateful for winning her," whispered Eustacia, "and inthat respect he is a good man. Many women would go far for such ahusband. But do I desire unreasonably much in wanting what is calledlife--music, poetry, passion, war, and all the beating and pulsingthat are going on in the great arteries of the world? That was theshape of my youthful dream; but I did not get it. Yet I thought I sawthe way to it in my Clym."
"And you only married him on that account?"
"There you mistake me. I married him because I loved him, but I won'tsay that I didn't love him partly because I thought I saw a promise ofthat life in him."
"You have dropped into your old mournful key."
"But I am not going to be depressed," she cried perversely. "I begana new system by going to that dance, and I mean to stick to it. Clymcan sing merrily; why should not I?"
Wildeve looked thoughtfully at her. "It is easier to say you willsing than to do it; though if I could I would encourage you in yourattempt. But as life means nothing to me, without one thing which isnow impossible, you will forgive me for not being able to encourageyou."
"Damon, what is the matter with you, that you speak like that?" sheasked, raising her deep shady eyes to his.
"That's a thing I shall never tell plainly; and perhaps if I try totell you in riddles you will not care to guess them."
Eustacia remained silent for a minute, and she said, "We are in astrange relationship today. You mince matters to an uncommon nicety.You mean, Damon, that you still love me. Well, that gives me sorrow,for I am not made so entirely happy by my marriage that I am willingto spurn you for the information, as I ought to do. But we have saidtoo much about this. Do you mean to wait until my husband is awake?"
"I thought to speak to him; but it is unnecessary. Eustacia, if Ioffend you by not forgetting you, you are right to mention it; but donot talk of spurning."
She did not reply, and they stood looking musingly at Clym as he slepton in that profound sleep which is the result of physical labourcarried on in circumstances that wake no nervous fear.
"God, how I envy him that sweet slee
p!" said Wildeve. "I have notslept like that since I was a boy--years and years ago."
While they thus watched him a click at the gate was audible, and aknock came to the door. Eustacia went to a window and looked out.
Her countenance changed. First she became crimson, and then the redsubsided till it even partially left her lips.
"Shall I go away?" said Wildeve, standing up.
"I hardly know."
"Who is it?"
"Mrs. Yeobright. O, what she said to me that day! I cannot understandthis visit--what does she mean? And she suspects that past time ofours."
"I am in your hands. If you think she had better not see me here I'llgo into the next room."
"Well, yes: go."
Wildeve at once withdrew; but before he had been half a minute in theadjoining apartment Eustacia came after him.
"No," she said, "we won't have any of this. If she comes in she mustsee you--and think if she likes there's something wrong! But how can Iopen the door to her, when she dislikes me--wishes to see not me, buther son? I won't open the door!"
Mrs. Yeobright knocked again more loudly.
"Her knocking will, in all likelihood, awaken him," continuedEustacia, "and then he will let her in himself. Ah--listen."
They could hear Clym moving in the other room, as if disturbed by theknocking, and he uttered the word "Mother."
"Yes--he is awake--he will go to the door," she said, with a breath ofrelief. "Come this way. I have a bad name with her, and you must notbe seen. Thus I am obliged to act by stealth, not because I do ill,but because others are pleased to say so."
By this time she had taken him to the back door, which was open,disclosing a path leading down the garden. "Now, one word, Damon,"she remarked as he stepped forth. "This is your first visit here; letit be your last. We have been hot lovers in our time, but it won't donow. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," said Wildeve. "I have had all I came for, and I amsatisfied."
"What was it?"
"A sight of you. Upon my eternal honour I came for no more."
Wildeve kissed his hand to the beautiful girl he addressed, and passedinto the garden, where she watched him down the path, over the stileat the end, and into the ferns outside, which brushed his hips as hewent along till he became lost in their thickets. When he had quitegone she slowly turned, and directed her attention to the interior ofthe house.
But it was possible that her presence might not be desired by Clymand his mother at this moment of their first meeting, or that itwould be superfluous. At all events, she was in no hurry to meet Mrs.Yeobright. She resolved to wait till Clym came to look for her, andglided back into the garden. Here she idly occupied herself for a fewminutes, till finding no notice was taken of her she retraced hersteps through the house to the front, where she listened for voicesin the parlour. But hearing none she opened the door and went in. Toher astonishment Clym lay precisely as Wildeve and herself had lefthim, his sleep apparently unbroken. He had been disturbed and made todream and murmur by the knocking, but he had not awakened. Eustaciahastened to the door, and in spite of her reluctance to open it to awoman who had spoken of her so bitterly, she unfastened it and lookedout. Nobody was to be seen. There, by the scraper, lay Clym's hookand the handful of faggot-bonds he had brought home; in front of herwere the empty path, the garden gate standing slightly ajar; and,beyond, the great valley of purple heath thrilling silently in thesun. Mrs. Yeobright was gone.
