ot. It brought before her eyes the spectre
of a worn-out woman knocking at a door which she would not open; and
she shrank from contemplating it. Yet it was better for Yeobright
himself when he spoke openly of his sharp regret, for in silence he
endured infinitely more, and would sometimes remain so long in a
tense, brooding mood, consuming himself by the gnawing of his thought,
that it was imperatively necessary to make him talk aloud, that his
grief might in some degree expend itself in the effort.

Eustacia had not been long indoors after her look at the moonlight
when a soft footstep came up to the house, and Thomasin was announced
by the woman downstairs.

"Ah, Thomasin! Thank you for coming tonight," said Clym when she
entered the room. "Here am I, you see. Such a wretched spectacle am
I, that I shrink from being seen by a single friend, and almost from
you."

"You must not shrink from me, dear Clym," said Thomasin earnestly, in
that sweet voice of hers which came to a sufferer like fresh air into
a Black Hole. "Nothing in you can ever shock me or drive me away. I
have been here before, but you don't remember it."

"Yes, I do; I am not delirious, Thomasin, nor have I been so at all.
Don't you believe that if they say so. I am only in great misery at
what I have done: and that, with the weakness, makes me seem mad. But
it has not upset my reason. Do you think I should remember all about
my mother's death if I were out of my mind? No such good luck. Two
months and a half, Thomasin, the last of her life, did my poor mother
live alone, distracted and mourning because of me; yet she was
unvisited by me, though I was living only six miles off. Two months
and a half--seventy-five days did the sun rise and set upon her in
that deserted state which a dog didn't deserve! Poor people who had
nothing in common with her would have cared for her, and visited her
had they known her sickness and loneliness; but I, who should have
been all to her, stayed away like a cur. If there is any justice in
God let Him kill me now. He has nearly blinded me, but that is not
enough. If He would only strike me with more pain I would believe in
Him for ever!"

"Hush, hush! O, pray, Clym, don't, don't say it!" implored Thomasin,
affrighted into sobs and tears; while Eustacia, at the other side of
the room, though her pale face remained calm, writhed in her chair.
Clym went on without heeding his cousin.

"But I am not worth receiving fur