as
so concerned that he immediately followed her.

"What is the matter, Eustacia?" he said. She was standing on the
hearthrug in the bedroom, looking upon the floor, her hands clasped
in front of her, her bonnet yet unremoved. For a moment she did not
answer; and then she replied in a low voice--

"I have seen your mother; and I will never see her again!"

A weight fell like a stone upon Clym. That same morning, when Eustacia
had arranged to go and see her grandfather, Clym had expressed a
wish that she would drive down to Blooms-End and inquire for her
mother-in-law, or adopt any other means she might think fit to bring
about a reconciliation. She had set out gaily; and he had hoped for
much.

"Why is this?" he asked.

"I cannot tell--I cannot remember. I met your mother. And I will
never meet her again."

"Why?"

"What do I know about Mr. Wildeve now? I won't have wicked opinions
passed on me by anybody. O! it was too humiliating to be asked if I
had received any money from him, or encouraged him, or something of
the sort--I don't exactly know what!"

"How could she have asked you that?"

"She did."

"Then there must have been some meaning in it. What did my mother say
besides?"

"I don't know what she said, except in so far as this, that we both
said words which can never be forgiven!"

"Oh, there must be some misapprehension. Whose fault was it that her
meaning was not made clear?"

"I would rather not say. It may have been the fault of the
circumstances, which were awkward at the very least. O Clym--I cannot
help expressing it--this is an unpleasant position that you have
placed me in. But you must improve it--yes, say you will--for I hate
it all now! Yes, take me to Paris, and go on with your old occupation,
Clym! I don't mind how humbly we live there at first, if it can only
be Paris, and not Egdon Heath."

"But I have quite given up that idea," said Yeobright, with surprise.
"Surely I never led you to expect such a thing?"

"I own it. Yet there are thoughts which cannot be kept out of mind,
and that one was mine. Must I not have a voice in the matter, now I
am your wife and the sharer of your doom?"

"Well, there are things which are placed beyond the pale of
discussion; and I thought this was specially so, and by mutual
agreement."

"Clym, I am unhappy at what I hear," she said in a low voice; and her
eyes drooped, and she turned away.

This indication of an unexpected mine of hope in