head and prove the failure of the first attempt a pure accident.

She had not been gone from Blooms-End more than half an hour when
Yeobright came by the meads from the other direction and entered the
house.

"I had an early breakfast," he said to his mother after greeting her.
"Now I could eat a little more."

They sat down to the repeated meal, and he went on in a low, anxious
voice, apparently imagining that Thomasin had not yet come downstairs,
"What's this I have heard about Thomasin and Mr. Wildeve?"

"It is true in many points," said Mrs. Yeobright quietly; "but it is all
right now, I hope." She looked at the clock.

"True?"

"Thomasin is gone to him today."

Clym pushed away his breakfast. "Then there is a scandal of some sort,
and that's what's the matter with Thomasin. Was it this that made her
ill?"

"Yes. Not a scandal--a misfortune. I will tell you all about it, Clym.
You must not be angry, but you must listen, and you'll find that what we
have done has been done for the best."

She then told him the circumstances. All that he had known of the affair
before he returned from Paris was that there had existed an
attachment between Thomasin and Wildeve, which his mother had at first
discountenanced, but had since, owing to the arguments of Thomasin,
looked upon in a little more favourable light. When she, therefore,
proceeded to explain all he was greatly surprised and troubled.

"And she determined that the wedding should be over before you came
back," said Mrs. Yeobright, "that there might be no chance of her
meeting you, and having a very painful time of it. That's why she has
gone to him; they have arranged to be married this morning."

"But I can't understand it," said Yeobright, rising. "'Tis so unlike
her. I can see why you did not write to me after her unfortunate return
home. But why didn't you let me know when the wedding was going to
be--the first time?"

"Well, I felt vexed with her just then. She seemed to me to be
obstinate; and when I found that you were nothing in her mind I vowed
that she should be nothing in yours. I felt that she was only my
niece after all; I told her she might marry, but that I should take no
interest in it, and should not bother you about it either."

"It wouldn't have been bothering me. Mother, you did wrong."

"I thought it might disturb you in your business, and that you might
throw up your situation, or injure your prospects in some way because of
it