fool
afore," said Fairway from the fire, beside which he knelt, blowing it
with his breath.

"D'ye think so, Timothy?" said Grandfer Cantle, coming forward to
Fairway's side with sudden depression in his face. "Then a man may
feel for years that he is good solid company, and be wrong about
himself after all?"

"Never mind that question, Grandfer. Stir your stumps and get some
more sticks. 'Tis very nonsense of an old man to prattle so when life
and death's in mangling."

"Yes, yes," said Grandfer Cantle, with melancholy conviction. "Well,
this is a bad night altogether for them that have done well in their
time; and if I were ever such a dab at the hautboy or tenor-viol, I
shouldn't have the heart to play tunes upon 'em now."

Susan now arrived with the frying-pan, when the live adder was killed
and the heads of the three taken off. The remainders, being cut into
lengths and split open, were tossed into the pan, which began hissing
and crackling over the fire. Soon a rill of clear oil trickled from
the carcases, whereupon Clym dipped the corner of his handkerchief
into the liquid and anointed the wound.

VIII

Eustacia Hears of Good Fortune, and Beholds Evil

In the meantime Eustacia, left alone in her cottage at Alderworth,
had become considerably depressed by the posture of affairs. The
consequences which might result from Clym's discovery that his mother
had been turned from his door that day were likely to be disagreeable,
and this was a quality in events which she hated as much as the
dreadful.

To be left to pass the evening by herself was irksome to her at any
time, and this evening it was more irksome than usual by reason of the
excitements of the past hours. The two visits had stirred her into
restlessness. She was not wrought to any great pitch of uneasiness
by the probability of appearing in an ill light in the discussion
between Clym and his mother, but she was wrought to vexation; and her
slumbering activities were quickened to the extent of wishing that she
had opened the door. She had certainly believed that Clym was awake,
and the excuse would be an honest one as far as it went; but nothing
could save her from censure in refusing to answer at the first knock.
Yet, instead of blaming herself for the issue she laid the fault upon
the shoulders of some indistinct, colossal Prince of the World, who
had framed her situation and ruled her lot.

At this time of the year it was pleasanter to