d Marty South of _The Woodlanders_. No pathos is finer than Marty's
unselfish love for the man who cannot see her own rare spirit, and
nothing that Hardy has written is more powerful than Marty's lament
over the grave of Giles:

"Now, my own, my love," she whispered, "you are mine, and on'y
mine, for she has forgot 'ee at last, although for her you
died. But I--whenever I get up I'll think of 'ee, and whenever
I lie down I'll think of 'ee. Whenever I plant the young
larches I'll think none can plant as you planted; and whenever
I split a gad, and whenever I turn the cider-wring, I'll say
none could do it like you. If I forget your name, let me
forget home and heaven! But, no, no, my love, I never can
forget 'ee, for you was a good man and did good things!"

_The Return of the Native_ is generally regarded as Hardy's finest
work. Certainly in this novel of passion and despair he has conjured
up elements that speak to the heart of every reader. The hand of fate
clutches hold of all the characters. When Eustacia fails to go to the
door and admit her husband's mother she sets in motion events that
bring swift ruin upon her as well as upon others. At every turn of the
story the somber Egdon heath looms in the background, more real than
any character in the romance, a sinister force that seems to sweep the
characters on to their doom. _Tess_ is more appealing than any other
of Mr. Hardy's works, but it is hurt by his desire to prove that the
heroine was a good woman in spite of her sins against the social code.
What has also given this work a great vogue is the splendid acting of
Mrs. Fiske in the play made from the novel.

In _Jude the Obscure_ Hardy had a splendid conception, but he
developed it in a morbid way, bringing out the animalism of the hero's
wife and forcing upon the reader his curious ideas about marriage.

But above and beyond everything else Thomas Hardy is one of the
greatest story tellers the world has ever seen. You may take up any
of his works and after reading a chapter you have a keen desire to
follow the tale to the end, despite the fact that you feel sure the
end will be tragic. Nothing is forced for effect; the whole story
moves with the simplicity of fate itself, and the characters, good and
bad, are swept on to their doom as though they were caught in the rush
of waters that go over Niagara falls. Hardy's style is clear, simple,
direct, and abounds in Biblical