he horse,
Damon?"

"O, I have not bought it, after all. The man asks too much."

"But somebody saw you at Throope Corner leading it home--a beauty, with
a white face and a mane as black as night."

"Ah!" said Wildeve, fixing his eyes upon her; "who told you that?"

"Venn the reddleman."

The expression of Wildeve's face became curiously condensed. "That is
a mistake--it must have been someone else," he said slowly and testily,
for he perceived that Venn's countermoves had begun again.

4--Rough Coercion Is Employed

Those words of Thomasin, which seemed so little, but meant so much,
remained in the ears of Diggory Venn: "Help me to keep him home in the
evenings."

On this occasion Venn had arrived on Egdon Heath only to cross to the
other side--he had no further connection with the interests of the
Yeobright family, and he had a business of his own to attend to. Yet
he suddenly began to feel himself drifting into the old track of
manoeuvring on Thomasin's account.

He sat in his van and considered. From Thomasin's words and manner
he had plainly gathered that Wildeve neglected her. For whom could
he neglect her if not for Eustacia? Yet it was scarcely credible
that things had come to such a head as to indicate that Eustacia
systematically encouraged him. Venn resolved to reconnoitre somewhat
carefully the lonely road which led along the vale from Wildeve's
dwelling to Clym's house at Alderworth.

At this time, as has been seen, Wildeve was quite innocent of any
predetermined act of intrigue, and except at the dance on the green he
had not once met Eustacia since her marriage. But that the spirit of
intrigue was in him had been shown by a recent romantic habit of his--a
habit of going out after dark and strolling towards Alderworth, there
looking at the moon and stars, looking at Eustacia's house, and walking
back at leisure.

Accordingly, when watching on the night after the festival, the
reddleman saw him ascend by the little path, lean over the front gate
of Clym's garden, sigh, and turn to go back again. It was plain that
Wildeve's intrigue was rather ideal than real. Venn retreated before him
down the hill to a place where the path was merely a deep groove
between the heather; here he mysteriously bent over the ground for a few
minutes, and retired. When Wildeve came on to that spot his ankle was
caught by something, and he fell headlong.

As soon as he had recovered the power of respiration