按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ng of taking her life； but bound him to secrecy； and promised never to think of such a thing again。 I hardly suppose she will ever have bravado enough to use one of them； but it shows what has been lurking in her mind； and people who think of that sort of thing once think of it again。”
“Where are the pistols？”
“Safely locked up。 O no； she won’t touch them again。 But there are more ways of letting out life than through a bullet…hole。 What did you quarrel about so bitterly with her to drive her to all this？ You must have treated her badly indeed。 Well； I was always against the marriage； and I was right。”
“Are you going with me？” said Yeobright； paying no attention to the captain’s latter remark。 “If so I can tell you what we quarrelled about as we walk along。”
“Where to？”
“To Wildeve’s—that was her destination； depend upon it。”
Thomasin here broke in； still weeping： “He said he was only going on a sudden short journey； but if so why did he want so much money？ O； Clym； what do you think will happen？ I am afraid that you； my poor baby； will soon have no father left to you！”
“I am off now；” said Yeobright； stepping into the porch。
“I would fain go with ‘ee；” said the old man doubtfully。 “But I begin to be afraid that my legs will hardly carry me there such a night as this。 I am not so young as I was。 If they are interrupted in their flight she will be sure to e back to me； and I ought to be at the house to receive her。 But be it as ‘twill I can’t walk to the Quiet Woman； and that’s an end on’t。 I’ll go straight home。”
“It will perhaps be best；” said Clym。 “Thomasin； dry yourself； and be as fortable as you can。”
With this he closed the door upon her； and left the house in pany with Captain Vye； who parted from him outside the gate； taking the middle path； which led to Mistover。 Clym crossed by the right…hand track towards the inn。
Thomasin； being left alone； took off some of her wet garments； carried the baby upstairs to Clym’s bed； and then came down to the sitting…room again； where she made a larger fire； and began drying herself。 The fire soon flared up the chimney； giving the room an appearance of fort that was doubled by contrast with the drumming of the storm without； which snapped at the windowpanes and breathed into the chimney strange low utterances that seemed to be the prologue to some tragedy。
But the least part of Thomasin was in the house； for her heart being at ease about the little girl upstairs she was mentally following Clym on his journey。 Having indulged in this imaginary peregrination for some considerable interval； she became impressed with a sense of the intolerable slowness of time。 But she sat on。 The moment then came when she could scarcely sit longer； and it was like a satire on her patience to remember that Clym could hardly have reached the inn as yet。 At last she went to the baby’s bedside。 The child was sleeping soundly； but her imagination of possibly disastrous events at her home； the predominance within her of the unseen over the seen； agitated her beyond endurance。 She could not refrain from going down and opening the door。 The rain still continued； the candlelight falling upon the nearest drops and making glistening darts of them as they descended across the throng of invisible ones behind。 To plunge into that medium was to plunge into water slightly diluted with air。 But the difficulty of returning to her house at this moment made her all the more desirous of doing so—anything was better than suspense。 “I have e here well enough；” she said； “and why shouldn’t I go back again？ It is a mistake for me to be away。”
She hastily fetched the infant； wrapped it up； cloaked herself as before； and shoveling the ashes over the fire； to prevent accidents； went into the open air。 Pausing first to put the door key in its old place behind the shutter； she resolutely turned her face to the confronting pile of firmamental darkness beyond the palings； and stepped into its midst。 But Thomasin’s imagination being so actively engaged elsewhere； the night and the weather had for her no terror beyond that of their actual disfort and difficulty。
She was soon ascending Blooms…End valley and traversing the undulations on the side of the hill。 The noise of the wind over the heath was shrill； and as if it whistled for joy at finding a night so congenial as this。 Sometimes the path led her to hollows between thickets of tall and dripping bracken； dead； though not yet prostrate； which enclosed her like a pool。 When they were more than usually tall she lifted the baby to the top of her head； that it might be out of the reach of their drenching fronds。 On higher ground； where the wind was brisk and sustained； the rain flew in a level flight without sensible descent； so that it was beyond all power to imagine the remoteness of the point at which it left the bosoms of the clouds。 Here self…defence was impossible； and individual drops stuck into her like the arrows into Saint Sebastian。 She was enabled to avoid puddles by the nebulous paleness which signified their presence； though beside anything less dark than the heath they themselves would have appeared as blackness。
Yet in spite of all this Thomasin was not sorry that she had started。 To her there were not； as to Eustacia； demons in the air； and malice in every bush and bough。 The drops which lashed her face were not scorpions； but prosy rain； Egdon in the mass was no monster whatever； but impersonal open ground。 Her fears of the place were rational； her dislikes of its worst moods reasonable。 At this time it was in her view a windy； wet place； in which a person might experience much disfort； lose the path without care； and possibly catch cold。
If the path is well known the difficulty at such times of keeping therein is not altogether great； from its familiar feel to the feet； but once lost it is irrecoverable。 Owing to her baby； who somewhat impeded Thomasin’s view forward and distracted her mind； she did at last lose the track。 This mishap occurred when she was descending an open slope about two…thirds home。 Instead of attempting； by wandering hither and thither； the hopeless task of finding such a mere thread； she went straight on； trusting for guidance to her general knowledge of the contours； which was scarcely surpassed by Clym’s or by that of the heath…croppers themselves。
At length Thomasin reached a hollow and began to discern through the rain a faint blotted radiance； which presently assumed the oblong form of an open door。 She knew that no house stood hereabouts； and was soon aware of the nature of the door by its height above the ground。
“Why； it is Diggory Venn’s van； surely！” she said。
A certain secluded spot near Rainbarrow was； she knew； often Venn’s chosen centre when staying in this neighbourhood； and she guessed at once that she had stumbled upon this mysterious retreat。 The question arose in her mind whether or not she should ask him to guide her into the path。 In her anxiety to reach home she decided that she would appeal to him； notwithstanding the strangeness of appearing before his eyes at this place and season。 But when； in pursuance of this resolve； Thomasin reached the van and looked in she found it to be untenanted； though there was no doubt that it was the reddleman’s。 The fire was burning in the stove； the lantern hung from the nail。 Round the doorway the floor was merely sprinkled with rain； and not saturated； which told her that the door had not long been opened。
While she stood uncertainly looking in Thomasin heard a footstep advancing from the darkness behind her； and turning； beheld the well…known form in corduroy； lurid from head to foot； the lantern beams falling upon him through an intervening gauze of raindrops。
“I thought you went down the slope；” he said； without noticing her face。 “How do you e back here again？”
“Diggory？” said Thomasin faintly。
“Who are you？” said Venn； still unperceiving。 “And why were you crying so just now？”
“O； Diggory！ don’t you know me？” said she。 “But of course you don’t； wrapped up like this。 What do you mean？ I have not been crying here； and I have not been here befor