ing when he learnt the strange news from
Susan's boy.

He did not turn aside to the cottage, but pushed on to an eminence,
whence he could see over the whole quarter that had once been Eustacia's
home. While he stood observing the darkening scene somebody came up.
Clym, seeing him but dimly, would have let him pass silently, had not
the pedestrian, who was Charley, recognized the young man and spoken to
him.

"Charley, I have not seen you for a length of time," said Yeobright. "Do
you often walk this way?"

"No," the lad replied. "I don't often come outside the bank."

"You were not at the Maypole."

"No," said Charley, in the same listless tone. "I don't care for that
sort of thing now."

"You rather liked Miss Eustacia, didn't you?" Yeobright gently asked.
Eustacia had frequently told him of Charley's romantic attachment.

"Yes, very much. Ah, I wish--"

"Yes?"

"I wish, Mr. Yeobright, you could give me something to keep that once
belonged to her--if you don't mind."

"I shall be very happy to. It will give me very great pleasure, Charley.
Let me think what I have of hers that you would like. But come with me
to the house, and I'll see."

They walked towards Blooms-End together. When they reached the front it
was dark, and the shutters were closed, so that nothing of the interior
could be seen.

"Come round this way," said Clym. "My entrance is at the back for the
present."

The two went round and ascended the crooked stair in darkness till
Clym's sitting-room on the upper floor was reached, where he lit a
candle, Charley entering gently behind. Yeobright searched his desk,
and taking out a sheet of tissue-paper unfolded from it two or three
undulating locks of raven hair, which fell over the paper like black
streams. From these he selected one, wrapped it up, and gave it to the
lad, whose eyes had filled with tears. He kissed the packet, put it in
his pocket, and said in a voice of emotion, "O, Mr. Clym, how good you
are to me!"

"I will go a little way with you," said Clym. And amid the noise of
merriment from below they descended. Their path to the front led them
close to a little side window, whence the rays of candles streamed
across the shrubs. The window, being screened from general observation
by the bushes, had been left unblinded, so that a person in this private
nook could see all that was going on within the room which contained
the wedding guests, except in so far as vision was hindere