还乡The Return Of The Native-第73节

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er；　and　stood　without　speaking。　
“Are　you　not　ashamed　of　me；　who　used　never　to　be　a　crying　animal？”　she　asked　in　a　weak　whisper　as　she　wiped　her　eyes。　　“Why　didn’t　you　go　away？　　I　wish　you　had　not　seen　quite　all　that；　it　reveals　too　much　by　half。”
“You　might　have　wished　it；　because　it　makes　me　as　sad　as　you；”　he　said　with　emotion　and　deference。　　“As　for　revealing—the　word　is　impossible　between　us　two。”
“I　did　not　send　for　you—don’t　forget　it；　Damon；　I　am　in　pain；　but　I　did　not　send　for　you！　As　a　wife；　at　least；　I’ve　been　straight。”
“Never　mind—I　came。　　O；　Eustacia；　forgive　me　for　the　harm　I　have　done　you　in　these　two　past　years！　I　see　more　and　more　that　I　have　been　your　ruin。”
“Not　you。　　This　place　I　live　in。”
“Ah；　your　generosity　may　naturally　make　you　say　that。　　But　I　am　the　culprit。　　I　should　either　have　done　more　or　nothing　at　all。”
“In　what　way？”
“I　ought　never　to　have　hunted　you　out；　or；　having　done　it；　I　ought　to　have　persisted　in　retaining　you。　　But　of　course　I　have　no　right　to　talk　of　that　now。　　I　will　only　ask　this—can　I　do　anything　for　you？　　Is　there　anything　on　the　face　of　the　earth　that　a　man　can　do　to　make　you　happier　than　you　are　at　present？　　If　there　is；　I　will　do　it。　　You　may　mand　me；　Eustacia；　to　the　limit　of　my　influence；　and　don’t　forget　that　I　am　richer　now。　　Surely　something　can　be　done　to　save　you　from　this！　Such　a　rare　plant　in　such　a　wild　place　it　grieves　me　to　see。　　Do　you　want　anything　bought？　　Do　you　want　to　go　anywhere？　　Do　you　want　to　escape　the　place　altogether？　　Only　say　it；　and　I’ll　do　anything　to　put　an　end　to　those　tears；　which　but　for　me　would　never　have　been　at　all。”
“We　are　each　married　to　another　person；”　she　said　faintly；
“and　assistance　from　you　would　have　an　evil　sound—after—after—“
“Well；　there’s　no　preventing　slanderers　from　having　their　fill　at　any　time；　but　you　need　not　be　afraid。　　Whatever　I　may　feel　I　promise　you　on　my　word　of　honour　never　to　speak　to　you　about—or　act　upon—until　you　say　I　may。　　I　know　my　duty　to　Thomasin　quite　as　well　as　I　know　my　duty　to　you　as　a　woman　unfairly　treated。　　What　shall　I　assist　you　in？”
“In　getting　away　from　here。”
“Where　do　you　wish　to　go　to？”
“I　have　a　place　in　my　mind。　　If　you　could　help　me　as　far　as　Budmouth　I　can　do　all　the　rest。　　Steamers　sail　from　there　across　the　Channel；　and　so　I　can　get　to　Paris；　where　I　want　to　be。　　Yes；”　she　pleaded　earnestly；　“help　me　to　get　to　Budmouth　harbour　without　my　grandfather’s　or　my　husband’s　knowledge；　and　I　can　do　all　the　rest。”
“Will　it　be　safe　to　leave　you　there　alone？”
“Yes；　yes。　　I　know　Budmouth　well。”
“Shall　I　go　with　you？　　I　am　rich　now。”
She　was　silent。　
“Say　yes；　sweet！”
She　was　silent　still。　
“Well；　let　me　know　when　you　wish　to　go。　　We　shall　be　at　our　present　house　till　December；　after　that　we　remove　to　Casterbridge。　　mand　me　in　anything　till　that　time。”
“I　will　think　of　this；”　she　said　hurriedly。　　“Whether　I　can　honestly　make　use　of　you　as　a　friend；　or　must　close　with　you　as　a　lover—that　is　what　I　must　ask　myself。　　If　I　wish　to　go　and　decide　to　accept　your　pany　I　will　signal　to　you　some　evening　at　eight　o’clock　punctually；　and　this　will　mean　that　you　are　to　be　ready　with　a　horse　and　trap　at　twelve　o’clock　the　same　night　to　drive　me　to　Budmouth　harbour　in　time　for　the　morning　boat。”
“I　will　look　out　every　night　at　eight；　and　no　signal　shall　escape　me。”
“Now　please　go　away。　　If　I　decide　on　this　escape　I　can　only　meet　you　once　more　unless—I　cannot　go　without　you。　　Go—I　cannot　bear　it　longer。　　Go—go！”
Wildeve　slowly　went　up　the　steps　and　descended　into　the　darkness　on　the　other　side；　and　as　he　walked　he　glanced　back；　till　the　bank　blotted　out　her　form　from　his　further　view。　


6　… Thomasin　Argues　with　Her　Cousin；　and　He　Writes　a　Letter


Yeobright　was　at　this　time　at　Blooms…End；　hoping　that　Eustacia　would　return　to　him。　　The　removal　of　furniture　had　been　acplished　only　that　day；　though　Clym　had　lived　in　the　old　house　for　more　than　a　week。　　He　had　spent　the　time　in　working　about　the　premises；　sweeping　leaves　from　the　garden　paths；　cutting　dead　stalks　from　the　flower　beds；　and　nailing　up　creepers　which　had　been　displaced　by　the　autumn　winds。　　He　took　no　particular　pleasure　in　these　deeds；　but　they　formed　a　screen　between　himself　and　despair。　　Moreover；　it　had　bee　a　religion　with　him　to　preserve　in　good　condition　all　that　had　lapsed　from　his　mother’s　hands　to　his　own。　
During　these　operations　he　was　constantly　on　the　watch　for　Eustacia。　　That　there　should　be　no　mistake　about　her　knowing　where　to　find　him　he　had　ordered　a　notice　board　to　be　affixed　to　the　garden　gate　at　Alderworth；　signifying　in　white　letters　whither　he　had　removed。　　When　a　leaf　floated　to　the　earth　he　turned　his　head；　thinking　it　might　be　her　foot…fall。　A　bird　searching　for　worms　in　the　mould　of　the　flower…beds　sounded　like　her　hand　on　the　latch　of　the　gate；　and　at　dusk；　when　soft；　strange　ventriloquisms　came　from　holes　in　the　ground；　hollow　stalks；　curled　dead　leaves；　and　other　crannies　wherein　breezes；　worms；　and　insects　can　work　their　will；　he　fancied　that　they　were　Eustacia；　standing　without　and　breathing　wishes　of　reconciliation。　
Up　to　this　hour　he　had　persevered　in　his　resolve　not　to　invite　her　back。　　At　the　same　time　the　severity　with　which　he　had　treated　her　lulled　the　sharpness　of　his　regret　for　his　mother；　and　awoke　some　of　his　old　solicitude　for　his　mother’s　supplanter。　　Harsh　feelings　produce　harsh　usage；　and　this　by　reaction　quenches　the　sentiments　that　gave　it　birth。　　The　more　he　reflected　the　more　he　softened。　　But　to　look　upon　his　wife　as　innocence　in　distress　was　impossible；　though　he　could　ask　himself　whether　he　had　given　her　quite　time　enough—if　he　had　not　e　a　little　too　suddenly　upon　her　on　that　sombre　morning。
Now　that　the　first　flush　of　his　anger　had　paled　he　was　disinclined　to　ascribe　to　her　more　than　an　indiscreet　friendship　with　Wildeve；　for　there　had　not　appeared　in　her　manner　the　signs　of　dishonour。　　And　this　once　admitted；　an　absolutely　dark　interpretation　of　her　act　towards　his　mother　was　no　longer　forced　upon　him。　
On　the　evening　of　the　fifth　November　his　thoughts　of　Eustacia　were　intense。　　Echoes　from　those　past　times　when　they　had　exchanged　tender　words　all　the　day　long　came　like　the　diffused　murmur　of　a　seashore　left　miles　behind。　　“Surely；”　he　said；　“she　might　have　brought　herself　to　municate　with　me　before　now；　and　confess　honestly　what　Wildeve　was　to　her。”
Instead　of　remaining　at　home　that　night　he　determined　to　go　and　see　Thomasin　and　her　husband。　　If　he　found　opportunity　he　would　allude　to　the　cause　of　the　separation　between　Eustacia　and　himself；　keeping　silence；　however；　on　the　fact　that　there　was　a　third　person　in　his　house　when　his　mother　was　turned　away。　　If　it　proved　that　Wildeve　was　innocently　there　he　would　doubtless　openly　mention　it。　　If　he　were　there　with　unjust　intentions　Wildeve；　being　a　man　of　quick　feeling；　might　possibly　say　something　to　reveal　the　extent　to　which　Eustacia　was　promised。　
But　on　reaching　his　cousin’s　house　he　found　that　only　Thomasin　was　at　home；　Wildeve　being　at　that　time　on　his　way　towards　the　bonfire　innocently　lit　by　Charley　at　Mistover。　　Thomasin　then；　as　always；　was　glad　to　see　Clym；　and　took　him　to　inspect　the　sleeping　baby；　carefully　screening　the　candlelight　from　the　infant’s　eyes　with　her　hand。　
“Tamsin；　have　you　heard　that　Eustacia　is　not　with　me。　　now？”　he　said　when　they　had　sat　down　again。　
“No；”　said　Thomasin；　alarmed。　
“And　not　that　I　have　left　Alderworth？”
“No。　I　never　hear　tidings　from　Alderworth　unless　you　bring　them。　　What　is　the　matter？”
Clym　in　a　disturbed　voice　related　to　her　his　visit　to　Susan　Nunsuch’s　boy；　the　revelation　he　had　made；　and　what　had　resulted　from　his　charging　Eustacia　with　having　wilfully　and　heartlessly　done　the　deed。　　He　suppressed　all　mention　of　Wildeve’s　presence　with　her。　
“All　this；　and　I　not　knowing　it！”　murmured　Thomasin　in　an　awestruck　tone；　“Terrible！　What　could　have　made　her—O；　Eustacia！　And　when　you　found　it　out　you　went　in　hot　haste　to　her？　　Were　you　too　cruel？or　is　she　really　so　wicked　as　she　seems？”
“Can　a　man　be　too　cruel　to　his　mother’s　enemy？”
“I　can　fancy　so。”
“Very　well；　then—I’ll　admit　that　he　can。　　But　now　what　is　to　be　done？”
“Make　it　up　again—if　a　quarrel　so　deadly　can　ever　be　made　up。　　I　almost　wish　you　had　not　told　me。　　But　do　try　to　be　reconciled。　　There　are　ways；　after　all；　if　you　both　wish　to。”
“I　don’t　know　that　we　do　both　wish　to　make　it　up；”　said　Clym。　　“If　she　had　wished　it；　would　she　not　have　sent　to　me　by　this　time？”
“You　seem　to　wish　to；　and　yet　you　have　not　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　e　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