There is evil in store for me."

"Was she not admitted to your house after all?" Wildeve inquired.

"No, and that's where it all lies! Oh, what shall I do! I shall not
intrude upon them--I shall go straight home. Damon, good-bye! I cannot
speak to you any more now."

They parted company; and when Eustacia had reached the next hill she
looked back. A melancholy procession was wending its way by the light of
the lantern from the hut towards Blooms-End. Wildeve was nowhere to be
seen.

BOOK FIVE -- THE DISCOVERY

1--"Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery"

One evening, about three weeks after the funeral of Mrs. Yeobright, when
the silver face of the moon sent a bundle of beams directly upon the
floor of Clym's house at Alderworth, a woman came forth from within. She
reclined over the garden gate as if to refresh herself awhile. The pale
lunar touches which make beauties of hags lent divinity to this face,
already beautiful.

She had not long been there when a man came up the road and with some
hesitation said to her, "How is he tonight, ma'am, if you please?"

"He is better, though still very unwell, Humphrey," replied Eustacia.

"Is he light-headed, ma'am?"

"No. He is quite sensible now."

"Do he rave about his mother just the same, poor fellow?" continued
Humphrey.

"Just as much, though not quite so wildly," she said in a low voice.

"It was very unfortunate, ma'am, that the boy Johnny should ever ha'
told him his mother's dying words, about her being broken-hearted and
cast off by her son. 'Twas enough to upset any man alive."

Eustacia made no reply beyond that of a slight catch in her breath, as
of one who fain would speak but could not; and Humphrey, declining her
invitation to come in, went away.

Eustacia turned, entered the house, and ascended to the front bedroom,
where a shaded light was burning. In the bed lay Clym, pale, haggard,
wide awake, tossing to one side and to the other, his eyes lit by a hot
light, as if the fire in their pupils were burning up their substance.

"Is it you, Eustacia?" he said as she sat down.

"Yes, Clym. I have been down to the gate. The moon is shining
beautifully, and there is not a leaf stirring."

"Shining, is it? What's the moon to a man like me? Let it shine--let
anything be, so that I never see another day!... Eustacia, I don't know
where to look--my thoughts go through me like swords. O, if any man
wants to make himself imm