en
uttered.

"We have met before," he said, regarding her with rather more interest
than was necessary.

"I do not own it," said Eustacia, with a repressed, still look.

"But I may think what I like."

"Yes."

"You are lonely here."

"I cannot endure the heath, except in its purple season. The heath is
a cruel taskmaster to me."

"Can you say so?" he asked. "To my mind it is most exhilarating, and
strengthening, and soothing. I would rather live on these hills than
anywhere else in the world."

"It is well enough for artists; but I never would learn to draw."

"And there is a very curious Druidical stone just out there." He threw
a pebble in the direction signified. "Do you often go to see it?"

"I was not even aware there existed any such curious Druidical stone.
I am aware that there are boulevards in Paris."

Yeobright looked thoughtfully on the ground. "That means much," he
said.

"It does indeed," said Eustacia.

"I remember when I had the same longing for town bustle. Five years
of a great city would be a perfect cure for that."

"Heaven send me such a cure! Now, Mr. Yeobright, I will go indoors and
plaster my wounded hand."

They separated, and Eustacia vanished in the increasing shade. She
seemed full of many things. Her past was a blank, her life had begun.
The effect upon Clym of this meeting he did not fully discover till
some time after. During his walk home his most intelligible sensation
was that his scheme had somehow become glorified. A beautiful woman
had been intertwined with it.

On reaching the house he went up to the room which was to be made his
study, and occupied himself during the evening in unpacking his books
from the boxes and arranging them on shelves. From another box he
drew a lamp and a can of oil. He trimmed the lamp, arranged his
table, and said, "Now, I am ready to begin."

He rose early the next morning, read two hours before breakfast by the
light of his lamp--read all the morning, all the afternoon. Just when
the sun was going down his eyes felt weary, and he leant back in his
chair.

His room overlooked the front of the premises and the valley of the
heath beyond. The lowest beams of the winter sun threw the shadow of
the house over the palings, across the grass margin of the heath,
and far up the vale, where the chimney outlines and those of the
surrounding treetops stretched forth in long dark prongs. Having
been seated at work all day, he decided to tak