our later, found Venn and Thomasin
ready to start, all the guests having departed in his absence. The
wedded pair took their seats in the four-wheeled dogcart which Venn's
head milker and handy man had driven from Stickleford to fetch them
in; little Eustacia and the nurse were packed securely upon the open
flap behind; and the milker, on an ancient overstepping pony, whose
shoes clashed like cymbals at every tread, rode in the rear, in the
manner of a body-servant of the last century.

"Now we leave you in absolute possession of your own house again,"
said Thomasin as she bent down to wish her cousin good night. "It
will be rather lonely for you, Clym, after the hubbub we have been
making."

"O, that's no inconvenience," said Clym, smiling rather sadly. And
then the party drove off and vanished in the night shades, and
Yeobright entered the house. The ticking of the clock was the only
sound that greeted him, for not a soul remained; Christian, who acted
as cook, valet, and gardener to Clym, sleeping at his father's house.
Yeobright sat down in one of the vacant chairs, and remained in
thought a long time. His mother's old chair was opposite; it had been
sat in that evening by those who had scarcely remembered that it ever
was hers. But to Clym she was almost a presence there, now as always.
Whatever she was in other people's memories, in his she was the
sublime saint whose radiance even his tenderness for Eustacia could
not obscure. But his heart was heavy; that mother had NOT crowned him
in the day of his espousals and in the day of the gladness of his
heart. And events had borne out the accuracy of her judgment, and
proved the devotedness of her care. He should have heeded her for
Eustacia's sake even more than for his own. "It was all my fault," he
whispered. "O, my mother, my mother! would to God that I could live
my life again, and endure for you what you endured for me!"

On the Sunday after this wedding an unusual sight was to be seen on
Rainbarrow. From a distance there simply appeared to be a motionless
figure standing on the top of the tumulus, just as Eustacia had stood
on that lonely summit some two years and a half before. But now it
was fine warm weather, with only a summer breeze blowing, and early
afternoon instead of dull twilight. Those who ascended to the
immediate neighbourhood of the Barrow perceived that the erect form in
the centre, piercing the sky, was not really alone. Round him upon
t