“Of course I should do no such thing,” said Wildeve “But they are not engaged yet.  How do you know that Thomasin would accept him?”

“That’s a question I have carefully put to myself; and upon the whole the probabilities are in favour of her accepting him in time.  I flatter myself that I have some influence over her.  She is pliable, and I can be strong in my recommendations of him.”

“And in your disparagement of me at the same time.”

“Well, you may depend upon my not praising you,” she said drily.  “And if this seems like manoeuvring, you must remember that her position is peculiar, and that she has been hardly used.  I shall also be helped in making the match by her own desire to escape from the humiliation of her present state; and a woman’s pride in these cases will lead her a very great way.  A little managing may be required to bring her round; but I am equal to that, provided that you agree to the one thing indispensable; that is, to make a distinct declaration that she is to think no more of you as a possible husband.  That will pique her into accepting him.”

“I can hardly say that just now, Mrs. Yeobright.  It is so sudden.”

“And so my whole plan is interfered with!  It is very inconvenient that you refuse to help my family even to the small extent of saying distinctly you will have nothing to do with us.”

Wildeve reflected uncomfortably.  “I confess I was not prepared for this,” he said.  “Of course I’ll give her up if you wish, if it is necessary.  But I thought I might be her husband.”

“We have heard that before.”

“Now, Mrs. Yeobright, don’t let us disagree.  Give me a fair time.  I don’t want to stand in the way of any better chance she may have; only I wish you had let me know earlier.  I will write to you or call in a day or two.  Will that suffice?”

“Yes,” she replied, “provided you promise not to communicate with Thomasin without my knowledge.”

“I promise that,” he said.  And the interview then terminated, Mrs. Yeobright returning homeward as she had come.

By far the greatest effect of her simple strategy on that day was, as often happens, in a quarter quite outside her view when arranging it.  In the first place, her visit sent Wildeve the same evening after dark to Eustacia’s house at Mistover.

At this hour the lonely dwelling was closely blinded and shuttered from the chill and darkness without.  Wildeve’s clandestine plan with her was to take a little gravel in his hand and hold it to the crevice at the top of the window shutter, which was on the outside, so that it should fall with a gentle rustle, resembling that of a mouse, between shutter and glass.  This precaution in attracting her attention was to avoid arousing the suspicions of her grandfather.

The soft words, “I hear; wait for me,” in Eustacia’s voice from within told him that she was alone.

He waited in his customary manner by walking round the enclosure and idling by the pool, for Wildeve was never asked into the house by his proud though condescending mistress.  She showed no sign of coming out in a hurry.  The time wore on, and he began to grow impatient.  In the course of twenty minutes she appeared from round the corner, and advanced as if merely taking an airing.