It was not till this moment that Clym recollected her to be the person who had behaved so barbarously to Eustacia。 It partly explained the insuavity with which the woman greeted him。 Moreover； the boy had been ailing again； and Susan now； as ever since the night when he had been pressed into Eustacia’s service at the bonfire； attributed his indispositions to Eustacia’s influence as a witch。 It was one of those sentiments which lurk like moles underneath the visible surface of manners； and may have been kept alive by Eustacia’s entreaty to the captain； at the time that he had intended to prosecute Susan for the pricking in church； to let the matter drop； which he accordingly had done。
Yeobright overcame his repugnance； for Susan had at least borne his mother no ill…will。 He asked kindly for the boy； but her manner did not improve。
“I wish to see him；” continued Yeobright； with some hesitation； “to ask him if he remembers anything more of his walk with my mother than what he has previously told。”
She regarded him in a peculiar and criticizing manner。 To anybody but a half…blind man it would have said； “You want another of the knocks which have already laid you so low。”
She called the boy downstairs； asked Clym to sit down on a stool； and continued； “Now； Johnny； tell Mr。 Yeobright anything you can call to mind。”
“You have not forgotten how you walked with the poor lady on that hot day？” said Clym。
“No；” said the boy。
“And what she said to you？”
The boy repeated the exact words he had used on entering the hut。 Yeobright rested his elbow on the table and shaded his face with his hand； and the mother looked as if she wondered how a man could want more of what had stung him so deeply。
“She was going to Alderworth when you first met her？”
“No； she was ing away。”
“That can’t be。”
“Yes； she walked along with me。 I was ing away； too。”
“Then where did you first see her？”
“At your house。”
“Attend； and speak the truth！” said Clym sternly。
“Yes； sir； at your house was where I seed her first。”
Clym started up； and Susan smiled in an expectant way which did not embellish her face； it seemed to mean； “Something sinister is ing！”
“What did she do at my house？”
“She went and sat under the trees at the Devil’s Bellows。”
“Good God！ this is all news to me！”
“You never told me this before？” said Susan。
“No； Mother； because I didn’t like to tell ‘ee I had been so far。 I was picking blackhearts； and went further than I meant。”
“What did she do then？” said Yeobright。
“Looked at a man who came up and went into your house。”
“That was myself—a furze…cutter； with brambles in his hand。”
“No； ‘twas not you。 ‘Twas a gentleman。 You had gone in afore。”
“Who was he？”
“I don’t know。”
“Now tell me what happened next。”
“The poor lady went and knocked at your door； and the lady with black hair looked out of the side window at her。”
The boy’s mother turned to Clym and said； “This is something you didn’t expect？”
Yeobright took no more notice of her than if he had been of stone。 “Go on； go on；” he said hoarsely to the boy。
“And when she saw the young lady look out of the window the old lady knocked again； and when nobody came she took up the furze…hook and looked at it； and put it down again； and then she looked at the faggot…bonds； and then she went away； and walked across to me； and blowed her breath very hard； like this。 We walked on together； she and I； and I talked to her and she talked to me a bit； but not much； because she couldn’t blow her breath。”
“O！” murmured Clym； in a low tone； and bowed his head。
“Let’s have more；” he said。
“She couldn’t talk much； and she couldn’t walk； and her face was； O so queer！”
“How was her face？”
“Like yours is now。”
The woman looked at Yeobright； and beheld him colourless； in a cold sweat。 “Isn’t there meaning in it？” she said stealthily。 “What do you think of her now？”
“Silence！” said Clym fiercely。 And； turning to the boy； “And then you left her to die？”
“No；” said the woman； quickly and angrily。 “He did not leave her to die！ She sent him away。 Whoever says he forsook her says what’s not true。”
“Trouble no more about that；” answered Clym； with a quivering mouth。 “What he did is a trifle in parison with what he saw。 Door kept shut； did you say？ Kept shut； she looking out of window？ Good heart of God！what does it mean？”
The child shrank away from the gaze of his questioner。
“He said so；” answered the mother； “and Johnny’s a God…fearing boy and tells no lies。”
“’Cast off by my son！’ No； by my best life； dear mother； it is not so！ But by your son’s； your son’s—May all murderesses get the torment they deserve！”
With these words Yeobright went forth from the little dwelling。 The pupils of his eyes； fixed steadfastly on blankness； were vaguely lit with an icy shine； his mouth had passed into the phase more or less imaginatively rendered in studies of Oedipus。 The strangest deeds were possible to his mood。 But they were not possible to his situation。 Instead of there being before him the pale face of Eustacia； and a masculine shape unknown； there was only the imperturbable countenance of the heath； which； having defied the cataclysmal onsets of centuries； reduced to insignificance by its seamed and antique features the wildest turmoil of a single man。
3 … Eustacia Dresses Herself on a Black Morning
A consciousness of a vast impassivity in all which lay around him took possession even of Yeobright in his wild walk towards Alderworth。 He had once before felt in his own person this overpowering of the fervid by the inanimate； but then it had tended to enervate a passion far sweeter than that which at present pervaded him。 It was once when he stood parting from Eustacia in the moist still levels beyond the hills。
But dismissing all this he went onward home； and came to the front of his house。 The blinds of Eustacia’s bedroom were still closely drawn； for she was no early riser。 All the life visible was in the shape of a solitary thrush cracking a small snail upon the door…stone for his breakfast； and his tapping seemed a loud noise in the general silence which prevailed； but on going to the door Clym found it unfastened； the young girl who attended upon Eustacia being astir in the back part of the premises。 Yeobright entered and went straight to his wife’s room。
The noise of his arrival must have aroused her； for when he opened the door she was standing before the looking glass in her nightdress； the ends of her hair gathered into one hand； with which she was coiling the whole mass round her head； previous to beginning toilette operations。 She was not a woman given to speaking first at a meeting； and she allowed Clym to walk across in silence； without turning her head。 He came behind her； and she saw his face in the glass。 It was ashy； haggard； and terrible。 Instead of starting towards him in sorrowful surprise； as even Eustacia； undemonstrative wife as she was； would have done in days before she burdened herself with a secret； she remained motionless； looking at him in the glass。 And while she looked the carmine flush with which warmth and sound sleep had suffused her cheeks and neck dissolved from view； and the deathlike pallor in his face flew across into hers。 He was close enough to see this； and the sight instigated his tongue。
“You know what is the matter；” he said huskily。
“I see it in your face。”
Her hand relinquished the rope of hair and dropped to her side； and the pile of tresses； no longer supported； fell from the crown of her head about her shoulders and over the white nightgown。 She made no reply。
“Speak to me；” said Yeobright peremptorily。
The blanching process did not cease in her； and her lips now became as white as her face。 She turned to him and said； “Yes； Clym； I’ll speak to you。 Why do you return so early？ Can I do anything for you？”
“Yes； you can listen to me。 It seems that my wife is not very well？”
“Why？”
“Your face； my dear； your face。 Or perhaps it is the pale morning light which takes your colour away？ Now I am going to reveal a secret to you。 Ha…ha！”
“O； that is ghastly！”
“What？”
“Your laugh。”
“There’s reason for ghastliness。 Eustacia； you have held my happiness in the hollow of your hand； and like a devil you have dashed it down！”
She started back from the dressing…table； retreated a few steps from him； and looked him in the face。 “Ah！ you think to frighten me；” she said； with a slight laugh。 “Is it worth while？ I am undefended； and alone。”
“How extraordinary！”
“What do you mean？”
“As there is ample time I will tell you； though you know well enough。 I mean that it is extraordinary that you should be alone in my absence。 Tell me； now； where is he who was with you on the afternoon of the thirty…first of August？ Under the bed？ Up the chimney？”
A shudder overcame her and shook the light fabric of her nightdress throughout。 “I do not remember dates so exactly；” she said。 “I cannot recollect that anybody was with me besides yourself。”
“The day I mean；” said Yeobright； his voice growing louder and harsher； “was the day you shut the door against my mother and killed her。 O； it is too much—too bad！” He leant over the footpiece of the bedstead for a few moments； with his back towards her； then rising again—“Tell me； tell me！ tell me—do you hear？” he cried； rushing up to her and seizing her by the loose folds of her sleeve。
The superstratum of timidity which often overlies those who are daring and defiant at heart had been passed through； and the mettlesome substance of the woman was reached。 The red blood inundated her face； previously so pale。
“What are you going to do？” she said in a low voice； regarding him with a proud smile。 “You will not alarm me by holding on so； but it would be a pity to tear my sleeve。”
Instead of letting go he drew her closer to him。 “Tell me
the particulars of—my mother’s death；” he said in a hard；
panting whisper； “or—I’ll—I’ll—“
“Clym；” she answered slowly； “do you think you dare do anything to me that I dare not bear？ But before you strike me listen。 You will g