A Conjuncture, and Its Result upon the Pedestrian
Wildeve, as has been stated, was determined to visit
Eustacia boldly, by day, and on the easy terms of
a relation, since the reddleman had spied out and
spoilt his walks to her by night. The spell that
she had thrown over him in the moonlight dance made
it impossible for a man having no strong puritanic
force within him to keep away altogether. He
merely calculated on meeting her and her husband in
an ordinary manner, chatting a little while, and leaving
again. Every outward sign was to be conventional;
but the one great fact would be there to satisfy him:
he would see her. He did not even desire Clym’s
absence, since it was just possible that Eustacia might
resent any situation which could compromise her dignity
as a wife, whatever the state of her heart towards
him. Women were often so.
He went accordingly; and it happened that the time
of his arrival coincided with that of Mrs. Yeobright’s
pause on the hill near the house. When he had
looked round the premises in the manner she had noticed
he went and knocked at the door. There was a few
minutes’ interval, and then the key turned in
the lock, the door opened, and Eustacia herself confronted
him.
Nobody could have imagined from her bearing now that
here stood the woman who had joined with him in the
impassioned dance of the week before, unless indeed
he could have penetrated below the surface and gauged
the real depth of that still stream.
“I hope you reached home safely?” said
Wildeve.
“O yes,” she carelessly returned.
“And were you not tired the next day? I
feared you might be.”
“I was rather. You need not speak low—nobody
will overhear us. My small servant is gone on
an errand to the village.”
“Then Clym is not at home?”
“Yes, he is.”
“O! I thought that perhaps you had locked
the door because you were alone and were afraid of
tramps.”
“No—here is my husband.”
They had been standing in the entry. Closing
the front door and turning the key, as before, she
threw open the door of the adjoining room and asked
him to walk in. Wildeve entered, the room appearing
to be empty; but as soon as he had advanced a few
steps he started. On the hearth rug lay Clym
asleep. Beside him were the leggings, thick boots,
leather gloves, and sleeve-waistcoat in which he worked.
“You may go in; you will not disturb him,”
she said, following behind. “My reason
for fastening the door is that he may not be intruded
upon by any chance comer while lying here, if I should
be in the garden or upstairs.”
“Why is he sleeping there?” said Wildeve
in low tones.
