1--The Rencounter by the Pool
The July sun shone over Egdon and fired its crimson heather to scarlet.It was the one season of the year, and the one weather of the season,in which the heath was gorgeous. This flowering period represented thesecond or noontide division in the cycle of those superficial changeswhich alone were possible here; it followed the green or young-fernperiod, representing the morn, and preceded the brown period, when theheathbells and ferns would wear the russet tinges of evening; to be inturn displaced by the dark hue of the winter period, representing night.
Clym and Eustacia, in their little house at Alderworth, beyond EastEgdon, were living on with a monotony which was delightful to them. Theheath and changes of weather were quite blotted out from their eyes forthe present. They were enclosed in a sort of luminous mist, which hidfrom them surroundings of any inharmonious colour, and gave to allthings the character of light. When it rained they were charmed, becausethey could remain indoors together all day with such a show of reasonwhen it was fine they were charmed, because they could sit together onthe hills. They were like those double stars which revolve round andround each other, and from a distance appear to be one. The absolutesolitude in which they lived intensified their reciprocal thoughts; yetsome might have said that it had the disadvantage of consuming theirmutual affections at a fearfully prodigal rate. Yeobright did not fearfor his own part; but recollection of Eustacia's old speech about theevanescence of love, now apparently forgotten by her, sometimes causedhim to ask himself a question and he recoiled at the thought that thequality of finiteness was not foreign to Eden.
When three or four weeks had been passed thus, Yeobright resumed hisreading in earnest. To make up for lost time he studied indefatigably,for he wished to enter his new profession with the least possible delay.
Now, Eustacia's dream had always been that, once married to Clym,she would have the power of inducing him to return to Paris. He hadcarefully withheld all promise to do so; but would he be proof againsther coaxing and argument? She had calculated to such a degree on theprobability of success that she had represented Paris, and not Budmouth,to her grandfather as in all likelihood their future home. Her hopeswere bound up in this dream. In the quiet days since their marriage,when Yeobright had been poring over her lips, her eyes, and the lines ofher face, she had mused and mused on the subject, even while in theact of returning his gaze; and now the sight of the books, indicating afuture which was antagonistic to her dream, struck her with a positivelypainful jar. She was hoping for the time when, as the mistress of somepretty establishment, however small, near a Parisian Boulevard, shewould be passing her days on the skirts at least of the gay world, andcatching stray wafts from those town pleasures she was so well fittedto enjoy. Yet Yeobright was as firm in the contrary intention as ifthe tendency of marriage were rather to develop the fantasies of youngphilanthropy than to sweep them away.
Her anxiety reached a high pitch; but there was something in Clym'sundeviating manner which made her hesitate before sounding him on thesubject. At this point in their experience, however, an incident helpedher. It occurred one evening about six weeks after their union, andarose entirely out of the unconscious misapplication of Venn of thefifty guineas intended for Yeobright.
A day or two after the receipt of the money Thomasin had sent a note toher aunt to thank her. She had been surprised at the largeness of theamount; but as no sum had ever been mentioned she set that down to herlate uncle's generosity. She had been strictly charged by her aunt tosay nothing to her husband of this gift; and Wildeve, as was naturalenough, had not brought himself to mention to his wife a singleparticular of the midnight scene in the heath. Christian's terror,in like manner, had tied his tongue on the share he took in thatproceeding; and hoping that by some means or other the money had goneto its proper destination, he simply asserted as much, without givingdetails.
Therefore, when a week or two had passed away, Mrs. Yeobright began towonder why she never heard from her son of the receipt of the present;and to add gloom to her perplexity came the possibility that resentmentmight be the cause of his silence. She could hardly believe as much, butwhy did he not write? She questioned Christian, and the confusion in hisanswers would at once have led her to believe that something was wrong,had not one-half of his story been corroborated by Thomasin's note.
Mrs. Yeobright was in this state of uncertainty when she was informedone morning that her son's wife was visiting her grandfather atMistover. She determined to walk up the hill, see Eustacia, andascertain from her daughter-in-law's lips whether the family guineas,which were to Mrs. Yeobright what family jewels are to wealthierdowagers, had miscarried or not.
When Christian learnt where she was going his concern reached itsheight. At the moment of her departure he could prevaricate no longer,and, confessing to the gambling, told her the truth as far as he knewit--that the guineas had been won by Wildeve.
What, is he going to keep them? Mrs. Yeobright cried.
I hope and trust not! moaned Christian. He's a good man, and perhapswill do right things. He said you ought to have gied Mr. Clym's share toEustacia, and that's perhaps what he'll do himself.
To Mrs. Yeobright, as soon as she could calmly reflect, there was muchlikelihood in this, for she could hardly believe that Wildeve wouldreally appropriate money belonging to her son. The intermediate courseof giving it to Eustacia was the sort of thing to please Wildeve'sfancy. But it filled the mother with anger none the less. That Wildeveshould have got command of the guineas after all, and should rearrangethe disposal of them, placing Clym's share in Clym's wife's hands,because she had been his own sweetheart, and might be so still, was asirritating a pain as any that Mrs. Yeobright had ever borne.
She instantly dismissed the wretched Christian from her employ for hisconduct in the affair; but, feeling quite helpless and unable to dowithout him, told him afterwards that he might stay a little longerif he chose. Then she hastened off to Eustacia, moved by a much lesspromising emotion towards her daughter-in-law than she had felt half anhour earlier, when planning her journey. At that time it was to inquirein a friendly spirit if there had been any accidental loss; now it wasto ask plainly if Wildeve had privately given her money which had beenintended as a sacred gift to Clym.
She started at two o'clock, and her meeting with Eustacia was hastenedby the appearance of the young lady beside the pool and bank whichbordered her grandfather's premises, where she stood surveying thescene, and perhaps thinking of the romantic enactments it had witnessedin past days. When Mrs. Yeobright approached, Eustacia surveyed her withthe calm stare of a stranger.
The mother-in-law was the first to speak. I was coming to see you, shesaid.
Indeed! said Eustacia with surprise, for Mrs. Yeobright, much to thegirl's mortification, had refused to be present at the wedding. I didnot at all expect you.
I was coming on business only, said the visitor, more coldly than atfirst. Will you excuse my asking this--Have you received a gift fromThomasin's husband?
A gift?
I mean money!
What--I myself?
Well, I meant yourself, privately--though I was not going to put it inthat way.
Money from Mr. Wildeve? No--never! Madam, what do you mean by that?Eustacia fired up all too quickly, for her own consciousness of the oldattachment between herself and Wildeve led her to jump to the conclusionthat Mrs. Yeobright also knew of it, and might have come to accuse herof receiving dishonourable presents from him now.
I simply ask the question, said Mrs. Yeobright. I have been----
You ought to have better opinions of me--I feared you were against mefrom the first! exclaimed Eustacia.
No. I was simply for Clym, replied Mrs. Yeobright, with too muchemphasis in her earnestness. It is the instinct of everyone to lookafter their own.
How can you imply that he required guarding against me? criedEustacia, passionate tears in her eyes. I have not injured him bymarrying him! What sin have I done that you should think so ill of me?You had no right to speak against me to him when I have never wrongedyou.
I only did what was fair under the circumstances, said Mrs. Yeobrightmore softly. I would rather not have gone into this question atpresent, but you compel me. I am not ashamed to tell you the honesttruth. I was firmly convinced that he ought not to marry you--thereforeI tried to dissuade him by all the means in my power. But it is donenow, and I have no idea of complaining any more. I am ready to welcomeyou.
Ah, yes, it is very well to see things in that business point of view,murmured Eustacia with a smothered fire of feeling. But why should youthink there is anything between me and Mr. Wildeve? I have a spiritas well as you. I am indignant; and so would any woman be. It was acondescension in me to be Clym's wife, and not a manoeuvre, let meremind you; and therefore I will not be treated as a schemer whom itbecomes necessary to bear with because she has crept into the family.
Oh! said Mrs. Yeobright, vainly endeavouring to control her anger. Ihave never heard anything to show that my son's lineage is not asgood as the Vyes'--perhaps better. It is amusing to hear you talk ofcondescension.
It was condescension, nevertheless, said Eustacia vehemently. And ifI had known then what I know now, that I should be living in this wildheath a month after my marriage, I--I should have thought twice beforeagreeing.
It would be better not to say that; it might not sound truthful. Iam not aware that any deception was used on his part--I know there wasnot--whatever might have been the case on the other side.
This is too exasperating! answered the younger woman huskily, her facecrimsoning, and her eyes darting light. How can you dare to speak to melike that? I insist upon repeating to you that had I known that my lifewould from my marriage up to this time have been as it is, I should havesaid NO. I don't complain. I have never uttered a sound of such a thingto him; but it is true. I hope therefore that in the future you will besilent on my eagerness. If you injure me now you injure yourself.
Injure you? Do you think I am an evil-disposed person?
You injured me before my marriage, and you have now suspected me ofsecretly favouring another man for money!
I could not help what I thought. But I have never spoken of you outsidemy house.
You spoke of me within it, to Clym, and you could not do worse.
I did my duty.
And I'll do mine.
A part of which will possibly be to set him against his mother. It isalways so. But why should I not bear it as others have borne it beforeme!
I understand you, said Eustacia, breathless with emotion. Youthink me capable of every bad thing. Who can be worse than a wife whoencourages a lover, and poisons her husband's mind against his relative?Yet that is now the character given to me. Will you not come and draghim out of my hands?
Mrs. Yeobright gave back heat for heat.
Don't rage at me, madam! It ill becomes your beauty, and I am not worththe injury you may do it on my account, I assure you. I am only a poorold woman who has lost a son.
If you had treated me honourably you would have had him still.Eustacia said, while scalding tears trickled from her eyes. You havebrought yourself to folly; you have caused a division which can never behealed!
I have done nothing. This audacity from a young woman is more than Ican bear.
It was asked for; you have suspected me, and you have made me speak ofmy husband in a way I would not have done. You will let him know that Ihave spoken thus, and it will cause misery between us. Will you go awayfrom me? You are no friend!
I will go when I have spoken a word. If anyone says I have come here toquestion you without good grounds for it, that person speaks untruly.If anyone says that I attempted to stop your marriage by any but honestmeans, that person, too, does not speak the truth. I have fallen on anevil time; God has been unjust to me in letting you insult me! Probablymy son's happiness does not lie on this side of the grave, for he is afoolish man who neglects the advice of his parent. You, Eustacia, standon the edge of a precipice without knowing it. Only show my son one-halfthe temper you have shown me today--and you may before long--and youwill find that though he is as gentle as a child with you now, he can beas hard as steel!
The excited mother then withdrew, and Eustacia, panting, stood lookinginto the pool.