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VII. The Morning and the Evening of a Day

           

           Itwasastagnant,warm,andmistynight,fullofalltheheavyperfumesofnewvegetationnotyetdriedbyhotsun,andamongtheseparticularlythescentofthefern.Thelantern,danglingfromChristian’shand,brushedthefeatheryfrondsinpassingby,disturbingmothsandotherwingedinsects,whichflewoutandalighteduponitshornypanes.

           “SoyouhavemoneytocarrytoMrs.Wildeve?”saidChristian’scompanion,afterasilence.“Don’tyouthinkitveryoddthatitshouldn’tbegiventome?”

           “Asmanandwifebeoneflesh,’twouldhavebeenallthesame,Ishouldthink,”saidChristian.“Butmystrictdocumentswas,togivethemoneyintoMrs.Wildeve’shand—and’tiswelltodothingsright.”

           “Nodoubt,”saidWildeve.AnypersonwhohadknownthecircumstancesmighthaveperceivedthatWildevewasmortifiedbythediscoverythatthematterintransitwasmoney,andnot,ashehadsupposedwhenatBlooms-End,somefancynick-nackwhichonlyinterestedthetwowomenthemselves.Mrs.Yeobright’srefusalimpliedthathishonourwasnotconsideredtobeofsufficientlygoodqualitytomakehimasaferbearerofhiswife’sproperty.

           “Howverywarmitistonight,Christian!”hesaid,panting,whentheywerenearlyunderRainbarrow.“Letussitdownforafewminutes,forHeaven’ssake.”

           Wildeveflunghimselfdownonthesoftferns;andChristian,placingthelanternandparcelontheground,perchedhimselfinacrampedpositionhardby,hiskneesalmosttouchinghischin.Hepresentlythrustonehandintohiscoat-pocketandbeganshakingitabout.

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