"I hope you'll succeed."

"I shall if you help me by calling and making friends with your son.
You'll have a chance then of using your eyes."

"Well, since it has come to this," said Mrs. Yeobright sadly, "I will
own to you, reddleman, that I thought of going. I should be much
happier if we were reconciled. The marriage is unalterable, my life
may be cut short, and I should wish to die in peace. He is my only
son; and since sons are made of such stuff I am not sorry I have no
other. As for Thomasin, I never expected much from her; and she has
not disappointed me. But I forgave her long ago; and I forgive him
now. I'll go."

At this very time of the reddleman's conversation with Mrs. Yeobright
at Blooms-End another conversation on the same subject was languidly
proceeding at Alderworth.

All the day Clym had borne himself as if his mind were too full of its
own matter to allow him to care about outward things, and his words
now showed what had occupied his thoughts. It was just after the
mysterious knocking that he began the theme. "Since I have been away
today, Eustacia, I have considered that something must be done to heal
up this ghastly breach between my dear mother and myself. It troubles
me."

"What do you propose to do?" said Eustacia abstractedly, for she could
not clear away from her the excitement caused by Wildeve's recent
manoeuvre for an interview.

"You seem to take a very mild interest in what I propose, little or
much," said Clym, with tolerable warmth.

"You mistake me," she answered, reviving at his reproach. "I am only
thinking."

"What of?"

"Partly of that moth whose skeleton is getting burnt up in the wick of
the candle," she said slowly. "But you know I always take an interest
in what you say."

"Very well, dear. Then I think I must go and call upon her."... He
went on with tender feeling: "It is a thing I am not at all too proud
to do, and only a fear that I might irritate her has kept me away so
long. But I must do something. It is wrong in me to allow this sort
of thing to go on."

"What have you to blame yourself about?"

"She is getting old, and her life is lonely, and I am her only son."

"She has Thomasin."

"Thomasin is not her daughter; and if she were that would not excuse
me. But this is beside the point. I have made up my mind to go to
her, and all I wish to ask you is whether you will do your best to
help me--that is, forget the past; and if she shows her willing