rs like a kiss, whereupon Yeobright knelt down,
and leaning over the well began dragging the grapnel round and round
as Fairway had done.

"Tie a rope round him--it is dangerous!" cried a soft and anxious
voice somewhere above them.

Everybody turned. The speaker was a woman, gazing down upon the group
from an upper window, whose panes blazed in the ruddy glare from the
west. Her lips were parted and she appeared for the moment to forget
where she was.

The rope was accordingly tied round his waist, and the work proceeded.
At the next haul the weight was not heavy, and it was discovered that
they had only secured a coil of the rope detached from the bucket.
The tangled mass was thrown into the background. Humphrey took
Yeobright's place, and the grapnel was lowered again.

Yeobright retired to the heap of recovered rope in a meditative mood.
Of the identity between the lady's voice and that of the melancholy
mummer he had not a moment's doubt. "How thoughtful of her!" he said
to himself.

Eustacia, who had reddened when she perceived the effect of her
exclamation upon the group below, was no longer to be seen at the
window, though Yeobright scanned it wistfully. While he stood there
the men at the well succeeded in getting up the bucket without a
mishap. One of them went to inquire for the captain, to learn what
orders he wished to give for mending the well-tackle. The captain
proved to be away from home, and Eustacia appeared at the door and
came out. She had lapsed into an easy and dignified calm, far removed
from the intensity of life in her words of solicitude for Clym's
safety.

"Will it be possible to draw water here tonight?" she inquired.

"No, miss; the bottom of the bucket is clean knocked out. And as we
can do no more now we'll leave off, and come again tomorrow morning."

"No water," she murmured, turning away.

"I can send you up some from Blooms-End," said Clym, coming forward
and raising his hat as the men retired.

Yeobright and Eustacia looked at each other for one instant, as if
each had in mind those few moments during which a certain moonlight
scene was common to both. With the glance the calm fixity of her
features sublimed itself to an expression of refinement and warmth:
it was like garish noon rising to the dignity of sunset in a couple
of seconds.

"Thank you; it will hardly be necessary," she replied.

"But if you have no water?"

"Well, it is what I call no water," she said,