d then he will let her in himself. Ah--listen."

They could hear Clym moving in the other room, as if disturbed by the
knocking, and he uttered the word "Mother."

"Yes--he is awake--he will go to the door," she said, with a breath of
relief. "Come this way. I have a bad name with her, and you must not
be seen. Thus I am obliged to act by stealth, not because I do ill,
but because others are pleased to say so."

By this time she had taken him to the back door, which was open,
disclosing a path leading down the garden. "Now, one word, Damon,"
she remarked as he stepped forth. "This is your first visit here; let
it be your last. We have been hot lovers in our time, but it won't do
now. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," said Wildeve. "I have had all I came for, and I am
satisfied."

"What was it?"

"A sight of you. Upon my eternal honour I came for no more."

Wildeve kissed his hand to the beautiful girl he addressed, and passed
into the garden, where she watched him down the path, over the stile
at the end, and into the ferns outside, which brushed his hips as he
went along till he became lost in their thickets. When he had quite
gone she slowly turned, and directed her attention to the interior of
the house.

But it was possible that her presence might not be desired by Clym
and his mother at this moment of their first meeting, or that it
would be superfluous. At all events, she was in no hurry to meet Mrs.
Yeobright. She resolved to wait till Clym came to look for her, and
glided back into the garden. Here she idly occupied herself for a few
minutes, till finding no notice was taken of her she retraced her
steps through the house to the front, where she listened for voices
in the parlour. But hearing none she opened the door and went in. To
her astonishment Clym lay precisely as Wildeve and herself had left
him, his sleep apparently unbroken. He had been disturbed and made to
dream and murmur by the knocking, but he had not awakened. Eustacia
hastened to the door, and in spite of her reluctance to open it to a
woman who had spoken of her so bitterly, she unfastened it and looked
out. Nobody was to be seen. There, by the scraper, lay Clym's hook
and the handful of faggot-bonds he had brought home; in front of her
were the empty path, the garden gate standing slightly ajar; and,
beyond, the great valley of purple heath thrilling silently in the
sun. Mrs. Yeobright was gone.

Clym's mother was at this time following