, untouched
and perfect as at the time of their erection. Those of the dyed
barbarians who had chosen the cultivable tracts were, in comparison
with those who had left their marks here, as writers on paper beside
writers on parchment. Their records had perished long ago by the
plough, while the works of these remained. Yet they all had lived
and died unconscious of the different fates awaiting their relics.
It reminded him that unforeseen factors operate in the evolution of
immortality.

Winter again came round, with its winds, frosts, tame robins, and
sparkling starlight. The year previous Thomasin had hardly been
conscious of the season's advance; this year she laid her heart open
to external influences of every kind. The life of this sweet cousin,
her baby, and her servants, came to Clym's senses only in the form of
sounds through a wood partition as he sat over books of exceptionally
large type; but his ear became at last so accustomed to these slight
noises from the other part of the house that he almost could witness
the scenes they signified. A faint beat of half-seconds conjured up
Thomasin rocking the cradle, a wavering hum meant that she was singing
the baby to sleep, a crunching of sand as between millstones raised
the picture of Humphrey's, Fairway's, or Sam's heavy feet crossing the
stone floor of the kitchen; a light boyish step, and a gay tune in a
high key, betokened a visit from Grandfer Cantle; a sudden break-off
in the Grandfer's utterances implied the application to his lips of a
mug of small beer, a bustling and slamming of doors meant starting to
go to market; for Thomasin, in spite of her added scope of gentility,
led a ludicrously narrow life, to the end that she might save every
possible pound for her little daughter.

One summer day Clym was in the garden, immediately outside the parlour
window, which was as usual open. He was looking at the pot-flowers on
the sill; they had been revived and restored by Thomasin to the state
in which his mother had left them. He heard a slight scream from
Thomasin, who was sitting inside the room.

"O, how you frightened me!" she said to some one who had entered. "I
thought you were the ghost of yourself."

Clym was curious enough to advance a little further and look in at the
window. To his astonishment there stood within the room Diggory Venn,
no longer a reddleman, but exhibiting the strangely altered hues of
an ordinary Christian countenance, white shi