t love, which reasserts itself afterwards just as
before. On account of your rebellious manner to me I was tempted to go
further than I should have done; and when you still would keep playing
the same tantalizing part I went further still, and married her."
Turning and looking again at the unconscious form of Clym, he murmured,
"I am afraid that you don't value your prize, Clym....He ought to be
happier than I in one thing at least. He may know what it is to come
down in the world, and to be afflicted with a great personal calamity;
but he probably doesn't know what it is to lose the woman he loved."

"He is not ungrateful for winning her," whispered Eustacia, "and in that
respect he is a good man. Many women would go far for such a husband.
But do I desire unreasonably much in wanting what is called life--music,
poetry, passion, war, and all the beating and pulsing that are going on
in the great arteries of the world? That was the shape of my youthful
dream; but I did not get it. Yet I thought I saw the way to it in my
Clym."

"And you only married him on that account?"

"There you mistake me. I married him because I loved him, but I won't
say that I didn't love him partly because I thought I saw a promise of
that life in him."

"You have dropped into your old mournful key."

"But I am not going to be depressed," she cried perversely. "I began a
new system by going to that dance, and I mean to stick to it. Clym can
sing merrily; why should not I?"

Wildeve looked thoughtfully at her. "It is easier to say you will sing
than to do it; though if I could I would encourage you in your attempt.
But as life means nothing to me, without one thing which is now
impossible, you will forgive me for not being able to encourage you."

"Damon, what is the matter with you, that you speak like that?" she
asked, raising her deep shady eyes to his.

"That's a thing I shall never tell plainly; and perhaps if I try to tell
you in riddles you will not care to guess them."

Eustacia remained silent for a minute, and she said, "We are in a
strange relationship today. You mince matters to an uncommon nicety. You
mean, Damon, that you still love me. Well, that gives me sorrow, for I
am not made so entirely happy by my marriage that I am willing to spurn
you for the information, as I ought to do. But we have said too much
about this. Do you mean to wait until my husband is awake?"

"I thought to speak to him; but it is unnecessary, Eu