had from time
to time, Eustacia; and they come to me this moment. You hate the heath
as much as ever; that I know."

"I do," she murmured deeply. "'Tis my cross, my shame, and will be my
death!"

"I abhor it too," said he. "How mournfully the wind blows round us now!"

She did not answer. Its tone was indeed solemn and pervasive. Compound
utterances addressed themselves to their senses, and it was possible to
view by ear the features of the neighbourhood. Acoustic pictures were
returned from the darkened scenery; they could hear where the tracts of
heather began and ended; where the furze was growing stalky and tall;
where it had been recently cut; in what direction the fir-clump lay,
and how near was the pit in which the hollies grew; for these differing
features had their voices no less than their shapes and colours.

"God, how lonely it is!" resumed Wildeve. "What are picturesque ravines
and mists to us who see nothing else? Why should we stay here? Will you
go with me to America? I have kindred in Wisconsin."

"That wants consideration."

"It seems impossible to do well here, unless one were a wild bird or a
landscape-painter. Well?"

"Give me time," she softly said, taking his hand. "America is so far
away. Are you going to walk with me a little way?"

As Eustacia uttered the latter words she retired from the base of the
barrow, and Wildeve followed her, so that the reddleman could hear no
more.

He lifted the turves and arose. Their black figures sank and disappeared
from against the sky. They were as two horns which the sluggish heath
had put forth from its crown, like a mollusc, and had now again drawn
in.

The reddleman's walk across the vale, and over into the next where his
cart lay, was not sprightly for a slim young fellow of twenty-four. His
spirit was perturbed to aching. The breezes that blew around his mouth
in that walk carried off upon them the accents of a commination.

He entered the van, where there was a fire in a stove. Without lighting
his candle he sat down at once on the three-legged stool, and pondered
on what he had seen and heard touching that still-loved one of his.
He uttered a sound which was neither sigh nor sob, but was even more
indicative than either of a troubled mind.

"My Tamsie," he whispered heavily. "What can be done? Yes, I will see
that Eustacia Vye."

10--A Desperate Attempt at Persuasion

The next morning, at the time when the height of the sun app