slopes with Venn’s velocity without falling
headlong into a pit, or snapping off his leg by jamming
his foot into some rabbit burrow. But Venn went
on without much inconvenience to himself, and the
course of his scamper was towards the Quiet Woman
Inn. This place he reached in about half an hour,
and he was well aware that no person who had been near
Throope Corner when he started could have got down
here before him.
The lonely inn was not yet closed, though scarcely
an individual was there, the business done being chiefly
with travellers who passed the inn on long journeys,
and these had now gone on their way. Venn went
to the public room, called for a mug of ale, and inquired
of the maid in an indifferent tone if Mr. Wildeve
was at home.
Thomasin sat in an inner room and heard Venn’s
voice. When customers were present she seldom
showed herself, owing to her inherent dislike for
the business; but perceiving that no one else was there
tonight she came out.
“He is not at home yet, Diggory,” she
said pleasantly. “But I expected him sooner.
He has been to East Egdon to buy a horse.”
“Did he wear a light wideawake?”
“Yes.”
“Then I saw him at Throope Corner, leading one
home,” said Venn drily. “A beauty,
with a white face and a mane as black as night.
He will soon be here, no doubt.” Rising
and looking for a moment at the pure, sweet face of
Thomasin, over which a shadow of sadness had passed
since the time when he had last seen her, he ventured
to add, “Mr. Wildeve seems to be often away
at this time.”
“O yes,” cried Thomasin in what was intended
to be a tone of gaiety. “Husbands will
play the truant, you know. I wish you could tell
me of some secret plan that would help me to keep
him home at my will in the evenings.”
“I will consider if I know of one,” replied
Venn in that same light tone which meant no lightness.
And then he bowed in a manner of his own invention
and moved to go. Thomasin offered him her hand;
and without a sigh, though with food for many, the
reddleman went out.
When Wildeve returned, a quarter of an hour later,
Thomasin said simply, and in the abashed manner usual
with her now, “Where is the horse, Damon?”
“O, I have not bought it, after all. The
man asks too much.”
“But somebody saw you at Throope Corner leading
it home—a beauty, with a white face and
a mane as black as night.”
“Ah!” said Wildeve, fixing his eyes upon
her; “who told you that?”
“Venn the reddleman.”
The expression of Wildeve’s face became curiously
condensed. “That is a mistake—it
must have been some one else,” he said slowly
and testily, for he perceived that Venn’s countermoves
had begun again.
Rough Coercion Is Employed
Those words of Thomasin, which seemed so little, but
meant so much, remained in the ears of Diggory Venn:
“Help me to keep him home in the evenings.”
