gry!"

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.

VII

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