Wildeve’s silence that day on what had happened to him was just the kind of behaviour calculated to make an impression on such a woman.  Those delicate touches of good taste were, in fact, one of the strong points in his demeanour towards the other sex.  The peculiarity of Wildeve was that, while at one time passionate, upbraiding, and resentful towards a woman, at another he would treat her with such unparalleled grace as to make previous neglect appear as no discourtesy, injury as no insult, interference as a delicate attention, and the ruin of her honour as excess of chivalry.  This man, whose admiration today Eustacia had disregarded, whose good wishes she had scarcely taken the trouble to accept, whom she had shown out of the house by the back door, was the possessor of eleven thousand pounds—­a man of fair professional education, and one who had served his articles with a civil engineer.

So intent was Eustacia upon Wildeve’s fortunes that she forgot how much closer to her own course were those of Clym; and instead of walking on to meet him at once she sat down upon a stone.  She was disturbed in her reverie by a voice behind, and turning her head beheld the old lover and fortunate inheritor of wealth immediately beside her.

She remained sitting, though the fluctuation in her look might have told any man who knew her so well as Wildeve that she was thinking of him.

“How did you come here?” she said in her clear low tone.  “I thought you were at home.”

“I went on to the village after leaving your garden; and now I have come back again:  that’s all.  Which way are you walking, may I ask?”

She waved her hand in the direction of Blooms-End.  “I am going to meet my husband.  I think I may possibly have got into trouble whilst you were with me today.”

“How could that be?”

“By not letting in Mrs. Yeobright.”

“I hope that visit of mine did you no harm.”

“None.  It was not your fault,” she said quietly.

By this time she had risen; and they involuntarily sauntered on together, without speaking, for two or three minutes; when Eustacia broke silence by saying, “I assume I must congratulate you.”

“On what?  O yes; on my eleven thousand pounds, you mean.  Well, since I didn’t get something else, I must be content with getting that.”

“You seem very indifferent about it.  Why didn’t you tell me today when you came?” she said in the tone of a neglected person.  “I heard of it quite by accident.”

“I did mean to tell you,” said Wildeve.  “But I—­well, I will speak frankly—­I did not like to mention it when I saw, Eustacia, that your star was not high.  The sight of a man lying wearied out with hard work, as your husband lay, made me feel that to brag of my own fortune to you would be greatly out of place.  Yet, as you stood there beside him, I could not help feeling too that in many respects he was a richer man than I.”