“I have given my word to. But what is the
use of it? He must soon know what has happened.
A mere look at your face will show him that something
is wrong.”
Thomasin turned and regarded her aunt from the tree.
“Now, hearken to me,” she said, her delicate
voice expanding into firmness by a force which was
other than physical. “Tell him nothing.
If he finds out that I am not worthy to be his cousin,
let him. But, since he loved me once, we will
not pain him by telling him my trouble too soon.
The air is full of the story, I know; but gossips
will not dare to speak of it to him for the first
few days. His closeness to me is the very thing
that will hinder the tale from reaching him early.
If I am not made safe from sneers in a week or two
I will tell him myself.”
The earnestness with which Thomasin spoke prevented
further objections. Her aunt simply said, “Very
well. He should by rights have been told at the
time that the wedding was going to be. He will
never forgive you for your secrecy.”
“Yes, he will, when he knows it was because
I wished to spare him, and that I did not expect him
home so soon. And you must not let me stand in
the way of your Christmas party. Putting it off
would only make matters worse.”
“Of course I shall not. I do not wish to
show myself beaten before all Egdon, and the sport
of a man like Wildeve. We have enough berries
now, I think, and we had better take them home.
By the time we have decked the house with this and
hung up the mistletoe, we must think of starting to
meet him.”
Thomasin came out of the tree, shook from her hair
and dress the loose berries which had fallen thereon,
and went down the hill with her aunt, each woman bearing
half the gathered boughs. It was now nearly four
o’clock, and the sunlight was leaving the vales.
When the west grew red the two relatives came again
from the house and plunged into the heath in a different
direction from the first, towards a point in the distant
highway along which the expected man was to return.
How a Little Sound Produced a Great Dream
Eustacia stood just within the heath, straining her
eyes in the direction of Mrs. Yeobright’s house
and premises. No light, sound, or movement was
perceptible there. The evening was chilly; the
spot was dark and lonely. She inferred that the
guest had not yet come; and after lingering ten or
fifteen minutes she turned again towards home.
She had not far retraced her steps when sounds in
front of her betokened the approach of persons in
conversation along the same path. Soon their
heads became visible against the sky. They were
walking slowly; and though it was too dark for much
discovery of character from aspect, the gait of them
showed that they were not workers on the heath.
Eustacia stepped a little out of the foot-track to
let them pass. They were two women and a man;
and the voices of the women were those of Mrs. Yeobright
and Thomasin.
