two miles beyond the village
of East Egdon, and six miles distant altogether; and thither he
directed his steps today.

The weather was far different from that of the evening before. The
yellow and vapoury sunset which had wrapped up Eustacia from his
parting gaze had presaged change. It was one of those not infrequent
days of an English June which are as wet and boisterous as November.
The cold clouds hastened on in a body, as if painted on a moving
slide. Vapours from other continents arrived upon the wind, which
curled and parted round him as he walked on.

At length Clym reached the margin of a fir and beech plantation that
had been enclosed from heath land in the year of his birth. Here
the trees, laden heavily with their new and humid leaves, were now
suffering more damage than during the highest winds of winter,
when the boughs are especially disencumbered to do battle with the
storm. The wet young beeches were undergoing amputations, bruises,
cripplings, and harsh lacerations, from which the wasting sap would
bleed for many a day to come, and which would leave scars visible till
the day of their burning. Each stem was wrenched at the root, where
it moved like a bone in its socket, and at every onset of the gale
convulsive sounds came from the branches, as if pain were felt. In a
neighbouring brake a finch was trying to sing; but the wind blew under
his feathers till they stood on end, twisted round his little tail,
and made him give up his song.

Yet a few yards to Yeobright's left, on the open heath, how
ineffectively gnashed the storm! Those gusts which tore the trees
merely waved the furze and heather in a light caress. Egdon was made
for such times as these.

Yeobright reached the empty house about mid-day. It was almost as
lonely as that of Eustacia's grandfather, but the fact that it stood
near a heath was disguised by a belt of firs which almost enclosed
the premises. He journeyed on about a mile further to the village
in which the owner lived, and, returning with him to the house,
arrangements were completed, and the man undertook that one room at
least should be ready for occupation the next day. Clym's intention
was to live there alone until Eustacia should join him on their
wedding day.

Then he turned to pursue his way homeward through the drizzle that had
so greatly transformed the scene. The ferns, among which he had lain
in comfort yesterday, were dripping moisture from every frond, wetting