they had not
exchanged a word.

"The dance and the walking have tired you?" he said tenderly.

"No; not greatly."

"It is strange that we should have met here of all places, after
missing each other so long."

"We have missed because we tried to miss, I suppose."

"Yes. But you began that proceeding--by breaking a promise."

"It is scarcely worth while to talk of that now. We have formed other
ties since then--you no less than I."

"I am sorry to hear that your husband is ill."

"He is not ill--only incapacitated."

"Yes: that is what I mean. I sincerely sympathize with you in your
trouble. Fate has treated you cruelly."

She was silent awhile. "Have you heard that he has chosen to work as
a furze-cutter?" she said in a low, mournful voice.

"It has been mentioned to me," answered Wildeve hesitatingly. "But I
hardly believed it."

"It is true. What do you think of me as a furze-cutter's wife?"

"I think the same as ever of you, Eustacia. Nothing of that sort can
degrade you: you ennoble the occupation of your husband."

"I wish I could feel it."

"Is there any chance of Mr. Yeobright getting better?"

"He thinks so. I doubt it."

"I was quite surprised to hear that he had taken a cottage. I
thought, in common with other people, that he would have taken you
off to a home in Paris immediately after you had married him. 'What
a gay, bright future she has before her!' I thought. He will, I
suppose, return there with you, if his sight gets strong again?"

Observing that she did not reply he regarded her more closely. She
was almost weeping. Images of a future never to be enjoyed, the
revived sense of her bitter disappointment, the picture of the
neighbours' suspended ridicule which was raised by Wildeve's words,
had been too much for proud Eustacia's equanimity.

Wildeve could hardly control his own too forward feelings when he saw
her silent perturbation. But he affected not to notice this, and she
soon recovered her calmness.

"You do not intend to walk home by yourself?" he asked.

"O yes," said Eustacia. "What could hurt me on this heath, who have
nothing?"

"By diverging a little I can make my way home the same as yours. I
shall be glad to keep you company as far as Throope Corner." Seeing
that Eustacia sat on in hesitation he added, "Perhaps you think it
unwise to be seen in the same road with me after the events of last
summer?"

"Indeed I think no such thing," she said haughtily. "I sha