sent to her."

"True; but I have been tossed to and fro in doubt if I ought, after
such strong provocation. To see me now, Thomasin, gives you no idea
of what I have been; of what depths I have descended to in these few
last days. O, it was a bitter shame to shut out my mother like that!
Can I ever forget it, or even agree to see her again?"

"She might not have known that anything serious would come of it, and
perhaps she did not mean to keep aunt out altogether."

"She says herself that she did not. But the fact remains that keep
her out she did."

"Believe her sorry, and send for her."

"How if she will not come?"

"It will prove her guilty, by showing that it is her habit to nourish
enmity. But I do not think that for a moment."

"I will do this. I will wait for a day or two longer--not longer
than two days certainly; and if she does not send to me in that time I
will indeed send to her. I thought to have seen Wildeve here tonight.
Is he from home?"

Thomasin blushed a little. "No," she said. "He is merely gone out
for a walk."

"Why didn't he take you with him? The evening is fine. You want fresh
air as well as he."

"Oh, I don't care for going anywhere; besides, there is baby."

"Yes, yes. Well, I have been thinking whether I should not consult
your husband about this as well as you," said Clym steadily.

"I fancy I would not," she quickly answered. "It can do no good."

Her cousin looked her in the face. No doubt Thomasin was ignorant
that her husband had any share in the events of that tragic afternoon;
but her countenance seemed to signify that she concealed some
suspicion or thought of the reputed tender relations between Wildeve
and Eustacia in days gone by.

Clym, however, could make nothing of it, and he rose to depart, more
in doubt than when he came.

"You will write to her in a day or two?" said the young woman
earnestly. "I do so hope the wretched separation may come to an end."

"I will," said Clym; "I don't rejoice in my present state at all."

And he left her and climbed over the hill to Blooms-End. Before going
to bed he sat down and wrote the following letter:--

MY DEAR EUSTACIA,--I must obey my heart without consulting
my reason too closely. Will you come back to me? Do so, and
the past shall never be mentioned. I was too severe; but O,
Eustacia, the provocation! You don't know, you never will
know, what those words of anger cost me which you drew down