Eustacia, warmed with an inner fire, could not wait
for her companions after this. She flung back
the ribbons from her face, opened the gate, and at
once struck into the heath. She did not hasten
along. Her grandfather was in bed at this hour,
for she so frequently walked upon the hills on moonlight
nights that he took no notice of her comings and goings,
and, enjoying himself in his own way, left her to
do likewise. A more important subject than that
of getting indoors now engrossed her. Yeobright,
if he had the least curiosity, would infallibly discover
her name. What then? She first felt a sort
of exultation at the way in which the adventure had
terminated, even though at moments between her exultations
she was abashed and blushful. Then this consideration
recurred to chill her: What was the use of her
exploit? She was at present a total stranger to
the Yeobright family. The unreasonable nimbus
of romance with which she had encircled that man might
be her misery. How could she allow herself to
become so infatuated with a stranger? And to fill
the cup of her sorrow there would be Thomasin, living
day after day in inflammable proximity to him; for
she had just learnt that, contrary to her first belief,
he was going to stay at home some considerable time.
She reached the wicket at Mistover Knap, but before
opening it she turned and faced the heath once more.
The form of Rainbarrow stood above the hills, and
the moon stood above Rainbarrow. The air was
charged with silence and frost. The scene reminded
Eustacia of a circumstance which till that moment
she had totally forgotten. She had promised to
meet Wildeve by the Barrow this very night at eight,
to give a final answer to his pleading for an elopement.
She herself had fixed the evening and the hour.
He had probably come to the spot, waited there in
the cold, and been greatly disappointed.
“Well, so much the better: it did not hurt
him,” she said serenely. Wildeve had at
present the rayless outline of the sun through smoked
glass, and she could say such things as that with the
greatest facility.
She remained deeply pondering; and Thomasin’s
winning manner towards her cousin arose again upon
Eustacia’s mind.
“O that she had been married to Damon before
this!” she said. “And she would if
it hadn’t been for me! If I had only known—if
I had only known!”
Eustacia once more lifted her deep stormy eyes to
the moonlight, and, sighing that tragic sigh of hers
which was so much like a shudder, entered the shadow
of the roof. She threw off her trappings in the
out-house, rolled them up, and went indoors to her
chamber.
VII
A Coalition between Beauty and Oddness
The old captain’s prevailing indifference to
his granddaughter’s movements left her free
as a bird to follow her own courses; but it so happened
that he did take upon himself the next morning to ask
her why she had walked out so late.
