o her son's room, and with her
own hands arranged it in order, for an imaginary time when he should
return again. She gave some attention to her flowers, but it was
perfunctorily bestowed, for they no longer charmed her.

It was a great relief when, early in the afternoon, Thomasin paid
her an unexpected visit. This was not the first meeting between the
relatives since Thomasin's marriage; and past blunders having been
in a rough way rectified, they could always greet each other with
pleasure and ease.

The oblique band of sunlight which followed her through the door
became the young wife well. It illuminated her as her presence
illuminated the heath. In her movements, in her gaze, she reminded
the beholder of the feathered creatures who lived around her home.
All similes and allegories concerning her began and ended with birds.
There was as much variety in her motions as in their flight. When she
was musing she was a kestrel, which hangs in the air by an invisible
motion of its wings. When she was in a high wind her light body was
blown against trees and banks like a heron's. When she was frightened
she darted noiselessly like a kingfisher. When she was serene she
skimmed like a swallow, and that is how she was moving now.

"You are looking very blithe, upon my word, Tamsie," said Mrs.
Yeobright, with a sad smile. "How is Damon?"

"He is very well."

"Is he kind to you, Thomasin?" And Mrs. Yeobright observed her
narrowly.

"Pretty fairly."

"Is that honestly said?"

"Yes, aunt. I would tell you if he were unkind." She added, blushing,
and with hesitation, "He--I don't know if I ought to complain to you
about this, but I am not quite sure what to do. I want some money,
you know, aunt--some to buy little things for myself--and he doesn't
give me any. I don't like to ask him; and yet, perhaps, he doesn't
give it me because he doesn't know. Ought I to mention it to him,
aunt?"

"Of course you ought. Have you never said a word on the matter?"

"You see, I had some of my own," said Thomasin evasively, "and I have
not wanted any of his until lately. I did just say something about it
last week; but he seems--not to remember."

"He must be made to remember. You are aware that I have a little box
full of spade-guineas, which your uncle put into my hands to divide
between yourself and Clym whenever I chose. Perhaps the time has come
when it should be done. They can be turned into sovereigns at any
moment."

"I t