Then there was a weeping of women, then waiting, then hushed
exclamations, then a strange gasping sound, then a painful stillness.

"It is all over," said the doctor.

Further back in the hut the cotters whispered, "Mrs. Yeobright is
dead."

Almost at the same moment the two watchers observed the form of a
small old-fashioned child entering at the open side of the shed.
Susan Nunsuch, whose boy it was, went forward to the opening and
silently beckoned to him to go back.

"I've got something to tell 'ee, mother," he cried in a shrill tone.
"That woman asleep there walked along with me today; and she said I
was to say that I had seed her, and she was a broken-hearted woman and
cast off by her son, and then I came on home."

A confused sob as from a man was heard within, upon which Eustacia
gasped faintly, "That's Clym--I must go to him--yet dare I do it?
No: come away!"

When they had withdrawn from the neighbourhood of the shed she said
huskily, "I am to blame for this. There is evil in store for me."

"Was she not admitted to your house after all?" Wildeve inquired.

"No; and that's where it all lies! Oh, what shall I do! I shall not
intrude upon them: I shall go straight home. Damon, good-bye! I
cannot speak to you any more now."

They parted company; and when Eustacia had reached the next hill she
looked back. A melancholy procession was wending its way by the light
of the lantern from the hut towards Blooms-End. Wildeve was nowhere to
be seen.

BOOK FIFTH
THE DISCOVERY

I

"Wherefore Is Light Given to Him That Is in Misery"

One evening, about three weeks after the funeral of Mrs. Yeobright,
when the silver face of the moon sent a bundle of beams directly upon
the floor of Clym's house at Alderworth, a woman came forth from
within. She reclined over the garden gate as if to refresh herself
awhile. The pale lunar touches which make beauties of hags lent
divinity to this face, already beautiful.

She had not long been there when a man came up the road and with some
hesitation said to her, "How is he tonight, ma'am, if you please?"

"He is better, though still very unwell, Humphrey," replied Eustacia.

"Is he light-headed, ma'am?"

"No. He is quite sensible now."

"Do he rave about his mother just the same, poor fellow?" continued
Humphrey.

"Just as much, though not quite so wildly," she said in a low voice.

"It was very unfortunate, ma'am, that the boy Johnny should ever ha'
t